Crisp and cold

A crisp and cold morning. Cloudbanks looming like a wave. Rolling fields beckon. Copyright Tom Tide 2017

Sylvan

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…

Ode retold

Car tail-lights are red, Folks language is blue; I wait at the Bus stop with thoughts just of you. With my hands blue with cold I see others see red; rain makes most folks just long for their bed. Not I (well, not yet), For I savour your eyes, Your words and your thoughts, and…

Never be Forgot

The whole city a coral reef. Resplendent with phosphorescence. Beautiful, really. Punctuated with staccato blasts. Syncopated echoes to every flash. Yet so fragmented. Too many, many small, pigeon holed shouls. Hardly an ecology. Or society. My God, united, all displays could make a blaze fit for a King. Whole streets pooling  knives and Fawkes to…

Hibernation

Yeah. I caught that look matey, I’ve seen it many a time; You’re picturing me, young and carefree- All shiny, in my prime.   Yeah I’ve still got it don’t ya know. The Muck’s just dirt, not rust. Even though I’m sitting low, this engine’s full of thrust.   Are you the one who’ll take me…

Mother Nature Makes a Seat

Mother Nature makes  seat, for the ones who search, Those who strive for green and air, and sometimes seek a perch. Somewhere to recline, breathing deep, to contemplate the day. Away from hubbub, strife and noise, away, so far away.   Searching brings such wondrous yields, tis truly worth a look, For my perch yielded…

Displacement-or finding oneself suddenly transported to another place.

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…

About turn

I updated my ‘About’ description today. Almost a year after first writing it. Perhaps worth a read if you have enjoyed any of my posts. It means a great deal to me if you have. Thank you.   Good evening all xXx

Improvising

To become a snail, when human, is quite a thing. To make one’s home mobile, and transport it to a new place, is yet another. To convey one’s family in the same frail shell is yet another permutation. One which I undertook in August, along with my wife and Four Year Old son. We went…

Detectorists

I am truly, madly, deeply  in love with the TV programme Detectorists. It is a wonderful, soulful celebration of life and love in all its desperate yearning and brutal reality. Everything about it is lovely. The characters and plot are irresistible to me, but I was most seduced by the theme tune. Jonny Flynn’s eponymous…

Shepherd’s Warning

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…

Nevil and Alf-Part One

To the rest of the world, the leafy  nursing home Sunset Oaks was a picture of calm repose. At 3.26 am even the night staff were asleep, and but for the occasional thrum of the boiler room all was silent. Even the keenest of ears would have missed the jazz music escaping from the soundproofed mahogany door…