Selkie

If I have had a past life, I feel I may have been a Selkie. Folklore tells of this mythological race of seal-people that could shed their skin and walk on land. They had to leave their seal pelts on the beach before growing legs, but if they failed to return then they would remain…

Irish Roads

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

Back to Work

  A Treasure Map. In my workaday pockets, brushed by inky, clammy fingertips. Once pristine, lacking any wrinkles. A land to discover. Now dog-eared, yes, but also gilded with love. My memories, awoken by this talisman? Emerald roads, scarlet paths, like veins- All leading to wide- sweeping beaches. Undulating hills with cloud-shadowed flanks, now just sleepy…

Heartstone for Helen

    When I am gone my love, hold this in your hands. It is full of all I hold dear. I give it all to you. Tossed, scoured shaped by waves. My heart, fashioned over millennia, to lie nestled now in to your cool palm. Brush its concentric circles with your thumb. Feel, at…

Waveform

  Shattered fishing float: Mimics waveform at its crest; Jagged, yet so calm.   © Tom Tide 2017

Little Wonder

Little wonder Eire breeds so many World Travellers. Look: in one wild rock in the far-flung North West blossoms a lichen globe. Whole wide shining continents- each with  new borders to cross. And all this glimpsed in one misty minute. How many broadened horizons birthed by one swift glimpse of this single slab, across centuries?…

Bog Wood

A seed. Long dormant. Lovingly laquered, cradled womb-like by gentle turf. For many generations. By some fair chance comes an unearthing: A keen eye fashions wings from time-frozen knots. Carves a thrusting neck and beak. Unleashes a Phoenix, now poised mid-arc, Or bursting from beneath the fish- harbouring waves. From this crucible centuries long, Soars…

Dunfanaghy

I’ve waited a lifetime to reach Donegal, With its mountains encircled by seas: To see roads tightly-wound, around peat-enriched ground, Every gorse bush a chorus of bees. To drink in broad bays topped with high tide-flecked dunes, All bedecked with pastel-hued stones: To see broad-sweeping beach stretching far out of reach Save for deep-walled, hewn…

Ballyduff

They’ve a flair for lettering. Especially the pub signs all flamboyant. Worthy of manuscripts. It could be the Wild West here: Streets laid out Frontier-wise. A chapel at the top of town. The drugstore. Banks with barred Windows. A flag or three. Round, wall-jutting clocks telling the right time twice a day. Wagons, rolling on…

Irish Easter Sunday Best

There is a deep calmness to Mass here. Warmly hunkered down and sheltering from Emerald rain. Officiants  gliding to their sacred tasks, as if on oiled rails- Even the tiny alter-folk, combed hair hovering above an altar massive as a billiard table. Today, the Priest rattles on as if shouting the odds, Yet people are…

Would you care to take a turn with me?

Bath came out in its finest and most flamboyant last weekend. Or, as I should rather say, the world came to Bath in its finest and most flamboyant. I was celebrating a momentous birthday with my family on Saturday, and was delighted and perplexed to see several taffeta and silk-attired ladies sailing past me, all…

Knopfler

  I might just  as well just post a hyperlink to a Youtube clip for this entry. I could do. Maybe I should. Mark Knopfler’s performances need to be seem to be believed. Yet to do so I feel would be a disservice to a supreme communicator. A person who has for over four decades…