One Night Only

Infamous for just one night: A year of growing, slumber-filled- Only to be scooped and carved.   © Tom Tide 2017

To All Things

Window pane wears Autumn frost. Only a sliver of Summer life remains, Soon to be brushed away.   © Tom Tide 2017

Sunday

Mug still warm between hands, Painting with dregs, still lost in dreams. Caffeine courses through my veins.   © Tom Tide 2017

Cast

Lifeless wings pinned tight Shadow glides as if  in flight; Just a trick of light.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017

Seeking

Pensive face, formed in branches: Lips part, nostrils flare as if seeking divine scent upon the winds.   © Tom Tide 2017  

Kiss

Branches kiss the lake: Ripples lick to give their love, Glassy waters sigh.   © Tom Tide 2017

Find bench will sit

The water had a silken, peaty feel to it. The cold was shocking  at first. The  wooden seat of the bench damp on my behind. Once settled though, I felt a deep serenity. My feet were floating, and gently rocked by lapping ripples. With the breeze cool on my face, it felt a lot like…

Irish Roads

Gentle, sweeping curves trace a path across deep earth- Fierce in hues of green.   © Tom Tide 2017  

On Reflection

Mirror, Mirror in the gloom, Staring out from this dark room Tell me please what you can see, Where in the future I shall be?   ‘Do not ask me’, it replies, ‘There is a film over your eyes that filters things which may well be, and shrouds them in anxiety’.   © Tom Tide…

Dusky Musky Ophelia

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  …

The Diving Pool

A place that forged me no longer exists. Stafford Leisure Centre was razed to the ground long ago, but I have such potent memories of it. Of the sparkly Blackcurrent drink that the vending machine spewed out for 35p. The inexplicable tannoy announcements of ‘211140 to Z2’, and the sillhouettes of folks walking to the…

Autumnal Poem for Bobbie

The very ground resonates. It is anything but a Fall, this time of year. Suffused by beauty, the air lifts. Hazy light; a welcome sight for sore eyes. All glows warm, as sated lovers.   Summer’s passions spent- now comes repose. The land exhales- all growing passed as nature stretches languid, Pulls up its leafy…