The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov

Pavel's new collection of poems, A House Rejoicing, is now available at Amazon.com, in print and on Kindle, and at Barnes & Noble. The cover art is "The Little Festive House," by Lisa Lorenz. Hear what Pavel says about the book.

Pavel's book From Here to Babylon is available in print and on Kindle.

Lion Sun: Poems by Pavel Chichikov, published by Grey Owl Press, is available at Amazon, or write to nlevine@erols.com. Read the review of Lion Sun on Scribble on the Net, an electronic journal of New Zealand and international poetry.  

Also by Pavel are Mysteries and Stations in the Manner of Ignatius  and Animal Kingdom, from Kaufmann Publishing. 

Pavel's poems inspired by Goya's etchings are at www.homagetogoya.com. And a selection of his photos can be seen at Catholic Images by Pavel Chichikov.

Sylvia Dorham's moving The Book of  Names is available at Amazon.com. See Pavel's review on the book page!

Enjoy artist Timothy Jones's blog page, which features his painting "Fallen Oak."  

Guest poet Charles Van Gorkom's blog may be found here.

All poems on this page are by Pavel Chichikov. They may be freely distributed, if not for profit, upon the permission of Pavel Chichikov (fishhook@atlanticbb.net) and must be credited to Pavel Chichikov. No alterations in the text may be made. All copyright restrictions apply.


   


(December 25 is Christmas Day.)

 

 

   


  Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617–82), “Adoration of the Shepherds”

  Museo del Prado Madrid

  Courtesy Wikimedia Commons


 

Hear Pavel read  "Such Light."

 

SUCH LIGHT

 

The little place where Christ was born,

Oil, the lamps, the lighted wicks,

Shadows dancing multiform,

Flames against the shadows lick

 

Beasts that shed their body heat

To warm the child who lies asleep,

The gleaming star and shepherds meet,

The smell of damp and wool-grown sheep

 

How plain the house, the little place,

There is no mystery to see

For us, complacent weary race

Who are not wakeful, joyful, free

 

But only look, miraculous the ordinary living fact

That One was born who is of us

And of the world, the flesh, the act

Of coming up from senseless dust

 

How can it be that dust can breathe

And think and love and trust and give?

Not even on a Christmas Eve

Could one expect such Light to live

 

               

 


 

 

Red-Shouldered Hawk landing

Courtesy Pinterest

 


NONE CAN GUESS

 

As if now summoned she alights again

Broad of shoulder, tapering of wing

And how should we who see her know her name?

 

The creatures on the ground are not afraid

One small beast approaches her and sniffs

Stretches out as if it had been tamed

 

I see her on the fence from where I sit

A soul of wing and steel from those deep draughts

That flow in icy currents on her breast

 

As I have summoned one who seemed like her

In mental picturing, this day she comes

As powerful as then in fledging dress

 

But when full-fledged what messenger is she

And on what day will she alight, arrive?

That time will be which none of us can guess

        

  

 

 

 

CLIMB UP MOSES

 

Marooned in the present, Robinson Crusoe

Hearing late the dying echo

Waiting for the rain that happened

Seeing ships that no one summoned

 

Finite is as finite does

For him the shore is mountainous

But all the same the sea is vast

The present small and does not last

 

Somehow there across the sea

And into visibility

A cloud that takes familiar form

A thunder cloud, a rainless storm

 

Climb up Moses to the peak

The view from there not for the weak

Suddenly the sea goes dry

As when the fierce Egyptians died

 

Then the waves roll back at last

The future claps against the past

Who escapes and shall not drown

Are those who can recall that sound

 

 

     

   

 

 


 

Lions running;  photo © Colin Bogle

Courtesy photographer and Becuo

 

 

THE WHELPS OF JUDAH

 

I saw the lions mass and run

Across an unknown plain, their flanks

Were pressed against each other and

They moved as one in rows and ranks

 

What lions are these, sir, I said

And when can I stand farther back

To see the rising of the dead,

The glory which the world has lacked?

 

On no, he said, this is no end

But first there must be massacre

When no one can the wealth defend

Within the whitewashed sepulcher

 

Their capital was bones and skin

Prosperity putrescent meat,

The whelps of Judah have grown thin

And now they starve and wish to eat

 

  

   

 

IN CONFESSION

 

The Devil’s a gunman who stands in a doorway

Waiting to prey on the passers-by,

The soul is a hostage standing beside him

And who will release the soul but I?

 

The gun is a rusty, unhandy weapon

And yet it intimidates those who are scared,

The demon assumes a covered position

Walls on three sides but exposed to the air

 

Soul of my soul, up to the doorway

He is more cowardly than you might guess,

Thrust him aside and rescue the prisoner

Take up your courage my soul and confess

 

 

   

 

 

SUCH A CLEVER MONKEY

 

There used to be a saying

A Chinese apothegm,

A monkey in the road

Can stop ten thousand men

 

See the column halted

The army is spellbound,

Such a clever monkey

We put our weapons down

 

We have seen the monkey

Who stops an army dead,

Here we will be halted

In regiments of lead

 

The Devil is the monkey

Who capers in disguise,

Such a clever monkey

To keep us paralyzed


        

  

  


 

Blue Knob, Bedford County; photo by Joe Calzarette

Courtesy photographer and Wikimedia Commons

 


ON THE MOUNTAINS

 

As the dew falls lightly

The Spirit of God on the hills

The sweet valleys

 

So on my soul

Fertile or sterile, never at peace

Except in your presence

 

So in that place

The Lord’s appearance

Grace upon grace

 

What will there be

When the dew has fallen

Above and below?

 

In the valleys peace

The grain of God

On the mountains, snow

 

  

   

     

The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov / Last modified December 21,  2014/
Poems copyright 1994-2014 Pavel Chichikov/  
URL: http://pavelspoetry.com

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