I was told to write a poem,
On our marvellous brain, you see?
I racked my head, multiple times,
But I couldn’t find anything fitting.
What should I write about?
Should I write about its anatomy or about its physiology?
I think, I can write about how uncannily it resembles a walnut,
Or maybe how it’s coiled structure,
Looks like cold Tiffin maggi.
Should I mention about the right brain and the left brain?
I think I’ll write about how the left brain makes us right,
About the statistics and bets,
Of algorithms and logic.
Then, maybe I’ll talk about how the right brain makes us fly,
Fly into the sphere of vivid colours and dancing words,
Coz it’s the one dealing with creativity.
Or maybe I’ll go deeper and talk about its 3 divisions,
Forebrain, midbrain and hindbrain.
Maybe I’d write about how the forebrain is the thinking part,
The one I’d use in a letter, I’d soon email to the school,
Reasoning why I can’t send this poem,
Coz, yet again my dog ate my homework,
The excuse I’ve been using since I was five,
An excuse the forebrain stored in my mind,
Then, I’d need the forebrain once again,
As I click ‘send’ on that email,
Coz, it controls our voluntary movements,
And I am only using ‘voluntary’,
Coz it’ll be rude if I say this movement can be involuntary too.
Then, I’ll need my midbrain,
As, I’d wake up in the middle of the night,
Opening my laptop, its screen stinging my eyes,
To control my pupil size,
And my head, neck and trunk for visual reflexes,
As I pathetically write the email, I conveniently forgot to draft in daylight.
I’ll use my hindbrain now,
As I pace across the room,
Contemplating on a good enough excuse.
I’ll stop midway; thinking how it isn’t a good time to lie,
I’ll take a deep breath,
And sit back down on the chair,
My posture erect,
I’d write why I didn’t turn in a poem,
It was because I wasn’t able to write one.
I’d begin it like this, “I was told to write a poem...”