Tendere

I dearly love this hulking, hump-backed thing hovering on my lawn. An exotic beetle- This time capsule, poised taut and proud in Summer rain. Walls tight as a drum skin bead away rain as I gaze at my childhood colour. That orange- so bright outside but within? Lurid. Flaming. Bathing everything in a warm glow. … More Tendere

Out In The Open

Something wonderful happened today. It raised my spirits immensely, and I want to tell everybody about it. I found a small, oval stone with the letters ‘OTR’ delicately penned in Turquoise on its surface. Intrigued, I held it in my hand throughout my walk and googled the letters on my laptop at home. As I … More Out In The Open

Heeby GB’s

There’s a stamp on my car, It say’s GB; I’m leaving GB for a spell, you see. And there’s something deeply troubling me- about my land of songs and tea.   There’s anger like I’ve never known. Fires lit, fuses blown; Curses reaped from bad seeds sown- Snap decisions. Good sense flown.   So I’m … More Heeby GB’s

All Ways

  Deep within my beating Heart : I Love you to the last degree; Every which way and back     Copyright Tom Tide 2017    

Eyes Playing Tricks

I love abandoned and damaged vehicles that have been laid to rest in gardens. I love capturing how nature seems to slowly engulf them. The shadows caused by missing parts are very sculptural to me, and full of shapes and lines made by negative space. I merrily snapped this image because I liked the shape … More Eyes Playing Tricks

Morning has mended

Here’s to the gently stretched legs- To the sleepy roll over; furtive clock glances. A grin. The ‘not yet up time’. Before anything moves but colour, peaceful in cool sheets rippling as waves on dawn’s sea. Just before the birds wake, In this womb of light.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017  

Bold

Sultry machines, typewriters. Yes, really.      Think. Silken ribbons, sopping in anticipation. Traces of  wetness left on sheets of white. Intense, this fluid exchange.   These keys are as blindfolded lovers- ribbed and longing for touch, they quiver at the first stroke as hot darts of desire leap upwards. Arched limbs. Every finger’s caress … More Bold

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

Streets of Lansdown

Originally posted on Tom Tide thinking:
? Have you seen the landlord, Who owns a third of Lansdown, Sucking up the rent To fund his year-long cruise? In his eyes you see pound signs, Glinting at the arrears fines, Interest just soaring, Oh how could he lose? ? So how can you tell me that…