Brutalism

I love Brutalist Architecture. I love it. I love the size and the shape and the colours (or lack of colours) of it. I feel strongly about it. To me, it is anything but brutal. It is sublime and sculptural, and makes me feel immediately fascinated yet humbled whenever I see it. As an appreciator…

Heavenly Glimpses

I was irresistibly drawn to the above words today. Not for their original, intended meaning, but in a deeply intense, personal manner. As my ‘About’ section suggests, I am a midnight writer, and begin writing usually after the witching hour has begun. My eyes often sting, and I have to flail my thoughts in to some…

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…

Fresh

I paused yesterday. Worn out, strung out. Eyes burning from frenetic activity. I paused yesterday. When my child self suddenly  ignited. Vibrant colours spun. I remembered. The arc of a blue sky. Lying flush to the grass and playing with beaded orbs of dew. Not remembered for decades. Until yesterday.   © Tom Tide 2016…

Momentary Mindfulness

  No, not just a bloom. A swift, carving rising winds; Joyful in freedom.   ©  Tom Tide 2016    

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…

À Mon Retour

It is all so very familiar: From a certain light at sunset to the sudden fresh breeze. Dusty warmth to the air caressing lithe beach bodies, both male and female. In fragrant supermarkets the strong, open-faced women with Work-worn hands. Their denim-clad husbands. Family dinners with all eating together. Fireworks after dark, and the sensuality of everything….

Picture Perfect

What better picture is there in the world? A masterpiece of special places Resonant with happy memories. Hard to believe that so much could be framed So completely, in both my mind’s eye and my loving gaze.   © Tom Tide 2016    

Chance Encounter

Currents surge and seethe, Sometimes strange bedfellows meet; Binding themselves fast.   © Tom Tide 2016  

Brief Hiatus

These words are for anybody and everybody who has read my words since I began sharing them last October. I have four words for you: Thank you all wholeheartedly. To know and to see that people read my words is an utter joy. You have given me the confidence to carve out a voice, and…

Growth

You are but new to the world Yet I know you to your very bones. Deeper, indeed. I was shown you on a screen Before you arrived. As your fragile self bound itself together. Now here, you are full of the joys of Spring, Summer. Autumn. Winter: a calendar of joys Captured in moments too…

We do not stop playing…

G B Shaw was precisely, poignantly right when he said ‘we do not stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing’. To play, to indulge in the simple pleasures of life whilst shrugging off adult sensibilities and inhibitions, is glorious.If you want to see Shaw’s philosophising perfectly illustrated, then have…