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Minnoor srinivasan

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Breeze wooed and whispered
In the rustle
Of the ear-leaves
Of the tree:
“I love dear”

The tree in a mood,
Self forgetful,
Spoke to the breeze;
“I pine for you”

So, the breeze replied
“You are the tree pine”.

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Myself a Sea-gull

I threw the net in the ocean of experience, on the bank of life.
The net is but my poetry;
I sat on the chill soft sand.
Contemplating i sat on the shore of life.
I cast the net, yonder i see the waves of the sea appearing like the waving green fields.
And the foam and surf of the sea
Resembling the grains at the top, in the fields of ocean's coast.
The sea-field has the eternal harvest ready with the surf grains.
To be reaped by the sea-gulls flying like the silver-sickles
I will also love the sea of life let me become a sea-gull
Wading and flying through- singing the song of the surging sea of life;

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