Once,
on a shimmering day,
I saw the sea fly up
Llandudno Beach
and swallow our sunwashed
detritus –
faded towels, Hang Ten slops, trashy
novels, footprints
ingested,
as we scramble-watched
it from the boulders,
churning back out to the horizon
with the indigestion
of our lives,
not looking back
to wave
beeblu blog 
Magnificent, I’ve seen it happen.
The nice thing is that you generally get ample warning at Glencairn Beach …
I am so homesick.
Morning, Cin (well, of course, you should be in the Land of Nod, but I think we share nocturnal sensibilities 🙂 ) – I hope you get to live near the sea again – there’s nothing quite like it. Good dreams xx
mm. that was yummy.
hahaha, Sana – 10/10 for this comment 😀
Wonderful poem, Bb. I could even feel the spray. Excellent description and play on words. I loved it – one of your very best, I think!
Thanks,Adee – your words started and ended my day well today 😀
Gosh… this brings back many memories of walking round the Great Orme with my poor worn out Granny… and years later taking my mum and first born daughter… the Punch and Judy shows and trying to protect our fish and chips from predatory seagulls… I love the movement in this playful poem ~ you “scramble-watched” the heartless sea “churning back out.” Thanks Bluebee 🙂
What lovely memories, Lazywednesdays – Punch and Judy shows brings back some memories for me too 🙂 as do those thieving seagulls 🙂
I would imagine that the waters around the Great Orme are just as chilly as those off the coast of Cape Town (numb-bum-inducing!) 😀
Haha – love it – I’m sure the wave got indigestion, especially from the Hang Ten slops 😉 A wave of a poem – love the breathless one sentenceness of it all – yay for the wave and for bluebee.
ha,ha, yes, Gabrielle – indeed. We were certainly breathless, not to mention speechless for a while
Have you seen the documentary Flip Flotsam? I think you will enjoy it
http://wn.com/Flip_Flotsam_25min_Documentary
Thanks 😀
I haven’t seen it and unfortunately my sound on my pc is broken at the moment – but I’ll watch it down the track – looks a bit like my beach (minus the flipflops) 🙂
That’s a pity – the poetic narration is the best part :-). The link only shows the first 5 minutes unfortunately, but the complete documentary is an absolute delight, showing an unexpected full circle
I wonder if it was a ‘wave’ competition. bb, seeing how many trophies they could consume in one go… Fantastic descriptive poem. .. xPenx
ha, ha – Pen – trash trophies – I like it! 🙂 Thanks. bb.
Oh…. Llandudno beach is in Cape Town? I assumed you were writing about Llandudno in North Wales where we spent childhood holidays! hehe – brings back nice memories anyway whichever hemisphere 🙂
ha, ha – yes, an African beach called ‘Llandudno’ 🙂 As you have said, memories created in different parts of the world, but connected
The sea is so powerful. Gives us a glimpse of how small we are. Hope you got to find out how your trashy novel ended 🙂
It certainly does, Zoë. Nice to see you 😀
I love the idea of scramble-watching. This happens in my life quite a lot, BB 😀
Thanks, Kate – mine too 😀
I like faded towels. They bring back memories of good times.
You’ve given me an insight into why I find it so difficult to throw them out 😉
wonderful..i can just picture the wave!
Thanks, Eva – it was at once awesome and arrhythmia-inducing 🙂
Wonderful B., I like the parallel with life; sometimes we need a wave to come up and remove the flotsam from our lives.
Absolutely, Mark 😉 Thanks
Lots of colorful movement here 🙂
And in our faces too after scrambling up those boulders 🙂 Thanks, Jan :
Really something here… 😉
I enjoyed, Thanks Blue Bee
Peace,
Laz
Great, Laz – glad you enjoyed this one 🙂
Can’t get enough. Beautiful word play.
Thanks, chexmax 🙂
Your words astonish this inlander. I have heard of but never seen such things. The detritus of life churned like indigestion, the sea not looking back to wave – wow!
Hello, Monica 😀 – the sea is quite something, with its fickle ways (and waves).
As an inlander in your magical part of the world, you have the howling of wolves in your backyard, as it were – now that’s something I would love to experience first-hand
NIce, Bluebee. I like the idea of watching one’s stuff (“detritus,” as you put it), fading out of one’s life, without having to make all the grand decisions involved to get rid of it. “And not [even] looking back to wave.”
The fact of a “rogue” coming to do the deed, and wiping out some our creature comforts and the traces of our existence can indeed be unsettling, though, like the feeling of a stomach upset to the point of “indigestion.”
Thank you for this poem– it speaks to me in a reassuring way.
Thanks, Elaine – I like that you found reassurance in this poem – I have a cupboard under the stairs that I would love someone to come and clear the detritus from without me knowing about it! (my mum has offered to do it on her next visit to the Antipodes but that wouldn’t be fair on her 🙂 )