All Ways

  Deep within my beating Heart : I Love you to the last degree; Every which way and back     Copyright 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?…

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    

When I Grow Up

When I was growing up, my bedroom was in the loft of my parents house. I had to ascend a steel ladder, and If I so wished could shut a hinged trapdoor against the rest of the house. Hermetically sealed and Ten years old, I would read Arthur C Clarke novels and listen to Mike…

St Solen-Part 2

    Tomas had barely slept. The many cockerels next door had awakened him well before he padded down the granite steps, picking his way barefoot across the road to the well. Nobody stirred in St Solen before dawn apart from the rats, and only they emerged at the peril of Raymond, the indomitable finger-wagging…

En Bretagne-Dinan

Perhaps it was the light that made it so particularly special. Bright, white sunshine reflected off lead flashing and mottled slate tiles. Light made all the brighter for the contrast of grey cobbles and dark, dark timbers. Light that threw long sharp shadows, as slim and defined as the church steeple with its plaintive bells….

Burning impression

To say visiting India is an assault on the senses is akin to saying that rubbing your eyes after chopping chillies is slightly uncomfortable. I spent six weeks in India, and every one of my senses was constantly battered. There was not one millisecond of silence between stepping of one aeroplane in Delhi  and leaving…

If a handkerchief could speak. Part One.

I am now naught but a party piece of the new governor of Cyprus. Stained.  Passed around like a whore in a tavern. Devoid of dignity, pride or ownership. Yet once I was a talisman of great import. My maker poured all of her essence and power and wisdom in to me, and gave me…


I looked at my dog-eared road atlas today. Battered. Only turned to in lost, driving  desperation. I happened upon a page, with a red dotted line. Felt transported. My fingertips running over names long forgotten. Suddenly recalled in sharp focus.   Every step measured out and walked with you. So long ago. You, a globe…

Sea Change

There is comfort in a beach. To gaze on stone worn down To endure as sand. Sheet metal folded like pastry, Branches sculpted by time. People endure.   To hold a world of colours between fingertips, A galaxy of grains on your palms. Listening to each wave’s sigh, as your own Breath That Will come, However painful….