It is the strangest of sensations to be transported. Away from one’s feet. One’s rationality. To another place entirely. To see Inca ruins within rural England. Yes, odd. I know. Yet I felt it. It was the deep, pure green. The presence of past Industry and civilisation all reclaimed by nature. Wildness. I thank the … More Displacement-or finding oneself suddenly transported to another place.
We are bound together, you and I. Fierce friend, brave ally. We grow together, light we chase, Intertwined in deep embrace. © Tom Tide 2016
The day is but newly struck. Blushing in its naïveté, yet still A Brave New World. Most still abed: whether Messiah or monster (and everybody else in between). What a difference today could make, In its increments of pivoting hands. Shifting digits. Whatever. I take you, day. For richer, for poorer. In rank sickness or … More Shepherd’s Warning
A carved face. Your chiselled features surrounded by heavenly curves. Hair whitened as if by flecks flung from your tools. In your chapel of marble, with slender legs Encased in linen, veined like purest Carrera. Arms folded, cradling your strong hands- The soul of your art. © Tom Tide 2016
This is Golden time for water-folk. Water calm and glassy; beckoning with undulating ripples. Time to feel the Jasmine air of evening light upon skin Immersed, in the flesh or the mind’s eye. Time to drift. To imagine breathing underwater, gliding with eyes open. Through a portal bedecked with green finery, To a of perpetual, … More Reflective Evening
It is a very valuable experience to watch a person engaging with their passions. It is a privilege to observe, and one that I always value greatly. A person may embrace their chosen field with grace and serenity, or hurl themselves at it with full force. However it manifests itself, it is always mesmerising. What … More Sails of Silver
An Ark. Firmly run aground in a safe harbour. Once a refuge for animals, milked two by two. Now a home, lovingly crafted. Formidably hulled: all Shipshape and Bristol fashion. A beam-boned whale, with portholes Peering out at rolling landscapes. All wood a creaking, flexing, holding fast. Scything the wind. Enduring rains. Prow raised up to … More The Shippen a storm
What a gift! To stand within a tree and breathe its musky depths. Lean against worn bark hewn out by countless rings Over years and decades and monarchies. Feel the becalmed air within the depths- Sharing spaces with myriad lives, unseen in crevices. Playing at being The Green Man. Peering out Still and watching. Amused … More Inner Space
I should be burned, dead and buried. God knows, I could have helped them burn. Soap does burn, does it not? I am made of ash and oil. Twas my place to soothe, though. To aid. To cleanse. My current station? To laquer a haunted Thane with fresh layers of guilt, year by year. They … More Thane Of Strife
I count myself blessed. I may be but a window, but I am frequented. We Tuscan windows are known as ‘the eyes of buildings’. Eyes are oft known as ‘the windows to the soul’. Therefore, I count myself soulful. I am an observer of encounters: both voyeuristic and by mutual consent. A connoseur of many … More Allegedly (an imagining of what the window from ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ would say, given half the chance.