Ophelia is outside my house. Painting the very air in cinnamon hues. Swirling past garbed in widow’s weeds. Spiraling off strange currents. There is musk and spice in the air: The tail-end of lusty desires. The very air resonates with a heady tang and bated breath This storm blows. Copyright Tom Tide 2017 … More Dusky Musky Ophelia
Clouds hang low as smog. Cars complain; the hiss of watered tyres: Damp seeps through my jacket. Copyright Tom Tide 2017.
The water had a velvety softness to it, and from the surface was the colour of linseed oil. Once I was thigh-deep though, I saw how pure and clear the water really was. Perched on smooth river stones, I could see my feet and toes vividly, and even pick out the current flowing around my … More Frog’s Eye View
I got thoroughly drenched by a Spring downpour today. It was a violent, dense throw down of a shower, accompanied by gusting wind. I felt immediately permeated by the cold air which was so very different from the foetid, stuffy fug of my classroom. Venturing out for a lunchtime walk without my coat, my shirt and trousers were sodden within … More A Sudden Downpour
Even here, deep in suburbia, It is wild tonight. Everything gilded in Silver. Sharp silhouettes softly shadowed yet lights fan out, sharp as a blade. Slipping out, no sound carries. I feel in the deep Sea or darkest space. The chill calms me. Soothes my teeming mind. Yet also excites it, for even though I … More Sylvan