My submerged eyes peer upwards: As if reclining on river’s bed; My body craves the daylight. Copyright Tom Tide 2017
Bath has been full of pilgrims seeking Paradise: Shangri-La, Music Mecca, call it what you will. Now? They have arrived: greeted by flags. A year of desire begins to be sated… For me, this SO bittersweet. I observe through a screen, through a lens the joy of others. Glittered, beautiful faces. Arms raised, arched in … More I shalt covet thy ticket.
Voices carry through the night. Amplified by still-warm walls. Ironic: humans outside and cats in. Every window door vent thrown wide, As the moths have a jamboree. No breeze to ruffle my book leaves tonight, only the tap of winged things, scampering over mottled ink. All dry, everything dry, save my sweat. Tonight, England has … More Solstice
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
When I found you, you were ragged. So dusty. Sleeveless in the cold of your neglect. Though metal-rimmed. Built to last. Bumping through the decades, from storage to storage. But what did you mean? You were and are a demo. So: Did you spark a tryst? Give words to some unspoken love? Why didn’t … More What did you mean?
A momentary glow. Warm evening embers. Tender shoots blessed with hazy radience. Others by purple shadows. Air-formed dew already in the air. Grass seed on my damp shoes. and my mind full of nothing but the colours… Yet with this child’s-eye view come a throng of memories unbidden yet welcome. The beading of dew held fast … More Luminescence of a Summer evening.
Floating in pale sunlight: Leaves pivot above my rocking hips; Reminiscent of al fresco wildness. Copyright Tom Tide 2017
Clouds hang low as smog. Cars complain; the hiss of watered tyres: Damp seeps through my jacket. Copyright Tom Tide 2017.
Writing is a blessed curse, Imagination veils my sight; Transforming most mundane of things to figmentations of pure fright. Winding creeper takes on fangs, Becoming Mowgli-seeking Carr, The jungle spreads beneath my feet With vipers seeking flesh to Mar. Honey-tongued and forked mischief, Whispers of forbidden fruit Whilst over growing temples peep from … More Serpentine
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