Nonsense

  There’s a place where all the shavings go, Where it is I do not know; At night when we all sleep and dream, They write the things that should have been.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017

Watering can soothe

I sweltered in my car. A metal box, arid and non-living. Then with a click, she emerged. Cradling a watering can wearing a top blue as an April sky. To revive a beloved garden of England. Or perhaps Japan: so lovingly fed and swept in to place by delicate hands. All ferns and fronds.   … More Watering can soothe

Draw what you see

Splodges. Squiggles. Paint blots. A lady in a headscarf? An elephant! Thus my mind went a swooping when I saw this ‘Draw what you see’ canvas outside an art shop in Bristol. It was proudly displayed on a trestle table on the pavement, and attracted a great many amateur artists. My son gravitated towards it, … More Draw what you see

Magpiedoscope

One for Cobalt, Two-Sea Green; Three for Copper, Four for Cream. Five? Cerulean. Six for Jet- Seven for all, flashing bright at Sunset.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017

Pipe Dreams

Briar wood grows and forms achingly slowly. It forms beneath the ground in bulbous swell, somewhere between tree trunk and roots. Only once heated, rested and then fire-hardened once again can it be turned cunningly into a pipe bowl. Ready to be smoked. I now know all of these things, and am fascinated by them. … More Pipe Dreams

A Mermaid Jewellers

  All wet and glistening shimmered colour. Blessed by driving rain and the Sea. The world submerged in water. The whole, wild beach laid out in its finery.   Like a Mermaid Jewellers.   © Tom Tide 2017

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

Interweave

  A labour of love Built with offerings of those dearest to me.   The lining of my son’s abandoned toys has become bedding to warm the tender bellies of fledglings. The spun gold of my wife’s brushed  hair cast from the window for the birds now binds curving walls with a burnished strength. My frayed … More Interweave

Night Sea

Porthgwidden, that most welcoming of sands. Blue in the sapphire moonlight. At moonrise, the waves are amplified. Becoming the soft breathing of sleeping giants. Gulls glide ghostly above the midnight black waters as the surf draws contoured hills on the sloping tideline.   Busy ships twinkle: stars in a velvet sky, with no horizon. All … More Night Sea