Room with a View

House of all seasons. All seasons, turned willy-nilly. Salt-mist crystalized one month: azure lenses the next. The entire curved ocean a stage to gaze upon. Storms were best, with their hiss and slap of surf. Sharp cracking strafe of current-honed pebbles. Bay window-watching, mug in hand. All topsy-turvy on the Buckled floor In this building slowly … More Room with a View

Oh Dear Me

I look at me three decades ago. Or you, rather. I’m unrecognisable now. Every cell thrice renewed. I wish I could take your head between my hands, Look in to your eyes and say ‘Your mind is wired strangely. Talk to people about it, in all its frenzied energy’. I would say ‘Swim every day. … More Oh Dear Me

Coffee Oracle

My morning coffee teases me with glimpses of all the things I could write about today but cannot yet see they swirl and vanish all too fast in steam of consciousness way before I can capture them yet some meagre impressions remain like sunspots- here’s to inspiration!   © Tom Tide 2016

Room of Requirement

    Now here’s a room of requirement: Loft space, bedroom, storeroom (in that order). Murals turned in to hieroglyphs. Bedding for all, from babies to the aged. The whole slowly moving family  museum as cluttered and muddled as my subconscious. Hermetically sealed, save for exploratory recce’s. As dusty yet expectant as Haversham’s gaff.   … More Room of Requirement

Aberystwyth

I lived on the seafront for two years. For two out of three years of my degree, my calendar was dictated by the waves and seasons. June sunbathing on the stony shore after lectures. November kitchen tea-sipping, whilst  gazing at waves battering Victoria Terrace bringing with them pebbles that strafed the road. Cycling down the … More Aberystwyth

Over and Over Again

Folks in Bath must have looked upwards in days gone by. Look up today, in 2016, and you will see faded, flaking murals. Murals over murals. Adverts skillfully painted by hand on to the corners of buildings. Flowing fonts and delicate pigments. So precise, and yet in their decay somehow reminiscent of Titian. Crumbling frescoes. … More Over and Over Again

Ghost Sign

This is Ghost Sign, my poem about a beautiful mirror and gilt shop sign that was rediscovered behind paneling in Bath recently. Hidden for nearly 70years, its discovery marks the building’s transition from Fancy Dress shop to a Bar and Restaurant.   Ghost Sign What did you hear, in all those years locked away Boarded and barricaded? … More Ghost Sign

Yearning on the beach, when I was Sixteen

Salt-flecked skin, bronzed and quivering. Slenderly fastened swimwear, straining Mid sea jump. Seductive water highlighting Achingly beautiful contours. Breasts rising- falling on the offbeat. So defined in the twilight. Sloe-eyed stares from beneath sun-bleached hair. Glimpsing elegant, arcing, casual sunbather stretches. As nothing to them, but so, so intense to me. In the yearning burn … More Yearning on the beach, when I was Sixteen

A picture paints…

I adore dreams, and I crave them intensely. The combination of vividness and adrenaline they subject me to is intoxicating, and always too brief. Often though, the echo of a dream is almost as precious. In the fleeting wafts of recollection there is something precious, and all the more so because those impressions are soon … More A picture paints…