Search Poem by Pankajam Kottarath

A song in heart,
Born in the depth of my stomach
Waits to be formed
I rush on to pen and paper,
Oops, no single pen around.


Search, search and search
Under the table,
Between pages of the books;
At last find one,
Beneath the pressed clothes.


With heart in fingers
I sit on the floor
Put daily sheet calendar upside down


Eyebrows, raised
Oh, My Good Lord,
The writing pad is soaked.


Diligent not to bow out
Resolved to stand upbeat
And at the height of rage
Mumble to myself
"Nothing shall distract me".


All in place
The pen refuses to spill ink
Shop on the main road; too far,
Scooty with a flat tyre,
Vows to test my patience.


Fury swallows despair
And at a hit awkward,
Splinters under my aching limb
None to grouse at,
And so I mutter, "Better to walk".


"Mom, Can you pack my bag? "
Resolve trips instantly
And I search nonstop
For the song that went in exile.