Not To Write Is A Choice Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

Not to write is a choice -
A painful choice.
So I write -
Even when words are hard to come by
Even when the realm is pretty dry. Dry.
A few minutes ago, a van gogh painting
Appeared on my screen and I thought
I got a glimpse of the painter -
He - sort of - distracted by my presence
Muttered, told me to have some sense -
Sense.
This world, sensible, sensuous, senseless
So much sense! Or lack of it!
Starry nights, the sunflower, vase
They all made sense once upon a time.
Suddenly they come back and leave me pained.
Colours disappear, words too,
And I try to fill my heart with starry nights
And the sunflower tightly held in my hand.
At this hour, I live on paintings.