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…

Watering can soothe

I sweltered in my car. A metal box, arid and non-living. Then with a click, she emerged. Cradling a watering can wearing a top blue as an April sky. To revive a beloved garden of England. Or perhaps Japan: so lovingly fed and swept in to place by delicate hands. All ferns and fronds.  …

Uphill struggle

  Clouds hang low as smog. Cars complain; the hiss of watered tyres: Damp seeps through my jacket.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017.

Thanksgiving for a Path

When I would curse or cry or shout, I take a walk to vent it out: To tread alone among the trees, Feel warmed by sunlight, cooled by breeze. Soothed by every fall of feet, A gentle metronomic beat. Thus as I pace the air smells clear, Whatever season of the year.   Summer with…

Pipe Dreams

Briar wood grows and forms achingly slowly. It forms beneath the ground in bulbous swell, somewhere between tree trunk and roots. Only once heated, rested and then fire-hardened once again can it be turned cunningly into a pipe bowl. Ready to be smoked. I now know all of these things, and am fascinated by them….

An innate sense of place

I live in the city of Bath, in the South West of England. It is a very beautiful place, and I love it for many, many reasons. I love the tall Georgian buildings that reveal their cavernous interiors through large, frame-like windows. I love the history of the place, that seems to seep out of…

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…

Beautiful Bath

A view across the river to the glowing, affluent side. © Tom Tide 2016    

Art Nouveau

  No more than Ivy winding around branches, Deep down a Somerset lane. Yet the glimpse of it took me to Paris: to flowing Guimard Ironwork. Arching stonework on Barcelona streets. Exotic, urban landscapes.   © Tom Tide 2016  

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…

Over and Over Again

Folks in Bath must have looked upwards in days gone by. Look up today, in 2016, and you will see faded, flaking murals. Murals over murals. Adverts skillfully painted by hand on to the corners of buildings. Flowing fonts and delicate pigments. So precise, and yet in their decay somehow reminiscent of Titian. Crumbling frescoes….