The Lost Notes

Those lost notes
The wind, as though in a drunken stupor
Stumbles on to the windowpane.
Why is it beating its head against the pane?
Is someone dead, someone in pain?

A vulture wheels overheard
And the Jhelum bleeds red
As darkness descends
In a sweep relentless.
A panoply of verdant profusion
Tries to shine with a faux brightness.
But my heart weeps.
As bleak darkness creeps.
And creeps.

Poems roam the dark streets orphaned
Hunting for those lost notes
Drooping spirits, shoulders stooping
Only to fall silent on curfewed lips
To die
Unsung, uncommended.
Unattended.

by Santosh Bakaya

Other poems of BAKAYA (63)

Comments (5)

EXCELLENT, to call beauty is something very special, ...10
Quite captures the essence of woman, I think. Or the wrath thereof.
Lovely with matching contrast what always saturated within beauty. Good stroke to define good.
Simply more than beautiful.....................
Well, with a name like Wylie/Wyllie, how could you go wrong, the strong the brave, the scottish wave-from me to you, ya stylish gurl, fined in pen, adored the swirl Love- Duncan The Part Scot XXXXXXX