This week’s creative theme is “waves.”  I am looking forward to seeing everyone’s contributions.  August Strindberg is better known as a dramatist than a poet but this short poem struck me and I thought it might inspire some responses.




WE, we waves,
That are rocking the winds
To rest–
Green cradles, we waves!

Wet are we, and salty;
Leap like flames of fire–
Wet flames are we:
Burning, extinguishing;
Cleansing, replenishing;
Bearing, engendering.

We, we waves,
That are rocking the winds
To rest!


August Strindberg

7 thoughts on “Waves

  1. Two great poems from Hilary to start us off

    You know,
    I have
    This wave
    I call
    My Weeping Wave.
    When calm, I sit upon
    My comfy rock and
    Gently beckon
    Through rippled waters for it to come.
    To come to me.
    My Wave
    And when it does arrive
    I tell to it my troubles,
    This Wave,
    My Weeping Wave,
    And then in it’s turquoise crown,
    Will carry my uncertainties
    Our there, out yonder.
    You know,
    This wave
    My Weeping
    Returns to me gifts,
    Of spherical foam bubbles
    On windy days,
    And that’s not all,
    Late Septembers’
    Hazy days
    Presents to me
    The sparkly toes
    Of Luminescence.
    My Wave
    My Weeping Wave.

    You remain helplessly sunny
    A wild orchid adorning,
    Your Damp salty hair.
    Dance with me, dance.
    We’ll dance to the rhythm
    Of snipe wing and tide turn
    We’ll dance to the waves
    Till the waves
    Lull our cares.

    Hilary Sludden.



    Waves hiss
    They make a mist
    An unrolling fist
    Batters down on sea
    Then land
    It keeps coming
    And the sand
    Moves back on the winds
    To make space
    For the hissing thumping roaring tide
    Waves hiss
    Spray splashes his face
    And for that instant
    Water earth and man
    Are joined in element
    For this
    Waves hiss

    Cathy Macleod


  3. Wave

    The last wave
    I remember the last wave as my daughter left
    Left on the first of March
    Went back to London
    I waved her off from the house
    Little did we know that was the last wave we had until ………
    We did not know when because
    This was twenty twenty
    The year of the pandemic
    Suddenly the whole country
    Went into lockdown
    No one could travel
    My group the over seventies
    Particularly to take care
    I was going to visit family
    At the beginning of May
    So that did not happen
    No waving goodbye again for now
    When we would see each other again



  4. WAVES
    By Mairi Cable.

    The waves I am going to to write about I heard on the television news. It was a man flying his plane and leaving messages for his grandchildren in the form of the waves that came from his jet. He also waved to an elderly couple, the man suffering from vascular dementia who delighted in the Red Arrow effects he was getting off his plane. There were streams of jets waving both at his grandchildren and the elderly couple who both got great pleasure with his antics in the sky.
    Another person who waves a lot is the Queen. Her wrist must get sore with the amount of waving she does. She has an elegant wave. When I go on my walks in the Castle grounds, I say “Hello, lovely day” to the passers by and if they have headphones on, or are on the phone I I give them a quick wave not as elegant as the Queen’s but effective nevertheless.


  5. Great contributions everyone. I wonder if now is the time to confess that the theme was really “wave” (singular) which somehow got translated in my head to waves, plural between reading the email and putting up this page on the blog! Wave or waves I expect it is ok so long as no one waves their fists at me.



    • Mike Dawson has written a terrific, cosmic take on this theme:

      It’s all waves, even down to the subatomic,
      Quanta and quarks,packets of waves
      Interference waves,wavicles, standing waves
      From the nano wavelengths to the macro
      Waves building harmony, waves building discord
      All waves traversing space/time
      Itself distorted by gravity waves and mass
      Imperspectively but perceivable
      On this tiny spheroid of rock
      With it’s skin thin biosphere
      Still filled with with waves, ocean waves, standing waves
      Sound waves,from the songs and clicks of whales
      Some strong enough to kill,
      To the hypersonic squeaks of bats and shrews
      The cries of babies,the wailing of those who have lost loved ones
      songs of martial glory, shouts of triumph,the roar of a crowd
      Mexican waves, wave goodbye, all waves
      All in harmony, with some discord
      The sweet music of that which is


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