BOOK DIVING (OR THE LOVE OF READING)

  I HAVE MISSED MY BLOG WRITING  TOO MUCH TO STAY AWAY. IT FEELS LIKE RUNNING BACK IN TO A LOVER’S EMBRACE. HAPPY FRIDAY ALL!         THE UTTER JOY OF THE PLUNGE: TASTING SHARP, TANG, BURN OF WORDS. WHOLE SELF IMMERSED IN TEXT WITH EYES BATHED THEN SCOURED BACK TO LINE BEGINNINGS….

Squall

For the briefest of briefest of moments I felt I was swimming. So much fierce water, almost weightless in the wind, and submerged- surrounded by flowing water. It was bliss.   Copyright Tom Tide 2016

A dance in triple time

  A dance in three movements. All of expression is here, from rhythmic rise to syncopated sway. To flow again.   Beneath, a gentle roll presses on tide-scoured stones. Borne aloft by a lunar score.   Above is the floating hang; the breath before the crescendo.   At the pinnacle, spume- tossed sprites waltz, then pirouette in to…

Seas Of St Ives

Cerulean. Aquamarine. Cobalt. Sage. Sorrel. All undulating in shimmering bars. Matt and impenetrable in cloud, yet translucent and brilliant when brought to life by light. A spectrum of water colours swirling langorously and loyally around an achingly beautiful enclave. Surrounded almost entirely by tides, that have sulpted the deeply loved land as they do driftwood, all…

Reflective Evening

This is Golden time for water-folk. Water calm and glassy; beckoning with undulating ripples. Time to feel the Jasmine air of evening light upon skin Immersed,  in the flesh or the mind’s eye. Time to drift. To imagine breathing underwater, gliding with eyes open. Through a portal bedecked with green finery, To a of perpetual,…

The Book Barn- Part 1

There was no hiding in that place. Not really.  Yet it was all about hiding. Escaping. However briefly. Once through the brittle plastic doors, there was a muffled dustiness within the solid walls and low ceilings which was comforting. Dry and dusty, the place felt dampened, with a faint hint of spice. Noises were occasionally discernible,…

Conducting Ripples

A gentle dragging cools the veins. Flexed feet carving the glassy surface; Eddying grainy dunes rise and fall beneath toes. Play of light on dazzling water. No beach here- The wide river bed channels clear waters Skimmed over by cobalt damsel flies, Reflected charcoal crow-wings flash past, Gone before upward glances seek them. Downward, always…

Flying Underwater

On Tuesday I fulfilled a lifetime dream, which was to glimpse a real mermaid. I watched mermaid Ia wave to an excited crowd, dive in to the sea with her vibrant tail, then glide gracefully and speedily underwater to greet people. She was so genuine and kind to all of those gathered there that I…

Chance Encounter

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

Mellow Wellow

In a tiny village on the Somerset/Cotswolds border is my thinking place. Nestled at the bottom of a valley and tucked in between vibrant green fields is a wide ford; gentle water flows underneath a bridge festooned with ivy, to swirl against a worn concrete platform. Ceramic pipes channel and funnel the water through the…

Shockingly familiar

I used to dream that I could breathe underwater. Swoop and dive beneath the surface like a darting swift. Impermeable. Nowadays I am thankful for a moment’s indulgence. The submergence of tired feet, With rippled, shock-immersed light play. It is enough, to feel the silky drag of water, Rising to meet me. Enough, because even…

Moon Rock

I found you rolling in the surf. You look more akin to the moon. A set piece from Thunderbirds. I hope that dainty shell chose to wedge itself. God only knows what you’ve been through. You were heavy and waterlogged at first. Now dried out, you rattle. Hiss, when submerged. How old are you? Your…