Teasing The Waves (Day 11)

This poem is a Reply Poetry to The Jealous Sea, posted after my reply poem.

I hear thee:

The waves hit me,

With a voice,

I want to listen to, always.

How can I sit?

How can I rock on this chair?

The waves are singing,

Beckoning me, to ballet with the sea.

Yet, I stay, to

Tease those waves,

Agonize their rapturous music,

Let them anticipate.

I caught the book,

Before the sea drank the,

Venomous black ink, that

Barricades me from the sea.

Oh but this tease,

This green envy of the sea,

Springs a desire, which my

Eyes carve out on the sand.

These eyes speak,

The tongue of the violent,

Splashing tides, that sting harshly

Breaking the barricade open.

And as I walk,

The tidal clashes welcoming me,

Sing the songs of those bitter bygones,

That sailed once.

The following Poem The Jealous Sea by my friend Harsh. 

The sea speaks;

Listen closely,

It wants to strike a conversation

with you.

Sit on that

rocking chair of yours,

on the veranda of

the sea side cottage.

Its floorboard creaking,

the chair rocking.

Let the book slip

from your hands.

Its cover is white,

without the name of author or title.

The sea has swallowed

its ink,

baring it white.

Its jealous.

It will erase all that's printed.

It will swallow everything,

where your eyes stray.

Its jealous,

it wants to strike a conversation.

Talk to the waves.

Listen intently,

they say something,

ancient poets echo back,

waves carrying lost ships' cries.