Do you know what impresses me about pebbles? They endure. Always. I mean, pick your punishment: they’ve beaten it. Volcanoes, Earthquakes, Crushed for Millennia, Slammed out of Cliffs, Storms, Waves. Dogs.   Battered beyond belief. Yet… All the more beautiful for their bludgeoning. Unbroken. Never. Ever. Shattered. As are all impressive people.   © Tom…

As from a river’s bed

  My submerged eyes peer upwards: As if reclining on river’s bed; My body craves the daylight.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017  

I shalt covet thy ticket.

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…

Everybody has a novel in them.

I do believe so. Mine is locked deep. Germinating. Coming slowly, slowly to fruition. To arrive when good and ready. Fully formed and full-bodied. Aged. All the more potent for it.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017    

Sea Wardrobe

Every weave and stitch a pigment. All hues, above and within water. Some colours warm- lapping Others chilled and dark. Even hints of the pallete of a Summer sky. Rippling like waves, Conducted by the tide of my hands, as I search for something to quench, no drench my heat.   © Tom Tide 2017


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…

Passing by

Such are rivers at dusk. Profound serenity. A beauty rippled with sadness, as if Ophelia had just swept around the bend; Robes flowing underwater. Fading as the Sun. Copyright Tom Tide 2017