The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov

WATCH FOR the publication of Pavel's latest collection of poems, So Tell Us, Christ., which will soon be available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle formats. 

Ave Maria University has released a description of its Pavel Chichikov Poetry Collection of printed, digital, and recorded materials.

Pavel's A House Rejoicing is available at, 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. From Here to Babylon is also available in print and on Kindle.

Lion Sun: Poems by Pavel Chichikov, published by Grey Owl Press, is available at Amazon, or write to 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 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 See Pavel's review on the book page!

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

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 ( and must be credited to Pavel Chichikov. No alterations in the text may be made. All copyright restrictions apply.




Illustration for Psalm 91:13, Stuttgart Psalter

“Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: : the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.

Württembergische Landesbibliothek Stuttgart

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons





Did you know that in the Rhineland of the pagans

Did you know that in the England of the Saxons

After the departure of the legions

There remained a remnant of the churches

Here and there the followers of Christ?

Congregations left within those kingdoms

Seeds of Eucharistic faithfulness?


Chronicles recorded few if any

Though there were some staying, never many

Surrounded by the temples, there among

The sacred oaks on which the captives hung

Tolerated sometimes, not remembered


Lights of vigil in a darkness, small

Every day and even through nightfall

And you might never see them there at all

Lighting for the Mass time beeswax candles

Among the Alamanni and the Vandals






Be careful where you sleep

For when you sleep afar

From your accustomed place

The fiends know where you are


They show you when you stray

Your best beloved dead,

Show as they decay

And melt on their death-bed


Then when you awake

You fear what you have seen,

The frailty of love

The pitiful obscene


Come again to Christ

The merciful embrace

Of Jesus of the Cross

In His accustomed place





Alfred Agache (1843–1915), “Les Parques"

Musée des Beaux-Arts, Lille

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons





Three were weaving, weaving on a loom

But they themselves were figures of a pattern

Woven as a triplet in the womb

Of time and circumstance, of what will happen


You and I are what they wove and now

I weave again the figures of the women—

Who designed the weave they do not know

Except that the designer works from heaven


Watch them weave and silently advance,

Those who work the loom are not aware

They are a pattern woven not by chance

Nor are their threads of being laid elsewhere


All are flat as figures in a weave

But they will come to roundness in a while—

Those who think them solid self-deceive

And those who spoil the pattern self-defile






George Tooker (1920–2011), “Un Ballo en Maschera”






Fake women, men and bodies

Fake marriage, sex, no babies

Fake hope, fake life, fake speech

Fake lessons liars teach


Falsehoods of the mind

False, the clever blind,

False, the pleasing lie

They take no life, deny


False, themselves they cheat,

They cripple their own feet,

Straight their falsehoods send

Like arrows end to end






They say that faith is blind who have no eyes

Tell that they are shrewd but are not wise,

Grope in darkness, turn away from light

Struggle not with evil though they might


Yield no praise for that which gives them all

Profess their domination as they fall.

Hide their terror, boast of being brave

Brag of being strong but are depraved


Find no meaning in the great design

See no system given by a sign,

Stand beneath a canopy of grace

But never meet the bridegroom face to face


How will they gain vision back again?

In the final moment they will, then—

And might they burn forever in a fire?

See Me, says the Lord, say your desire






Lyric for a gospel song

After W. A. Muhlenberg


When first the Ark of peace was launched

And all the world was drowned,

That refuge rode the sea of waves

No land at all was found


But when another Flood shall come

There will be seas of fire

That God in wrath of flame will send,

A holy flood of ire


And those who go within the Ark

Will find no land but then

They all will see in after days

The New Jerusalem


The Ark we call the holy place

Where Jesus Christ resides,

The Master of the ship of grace

Though some may think He hides


And those who berth within that ship

Will sail the sea of flame

To find a land of peace again

As Noah did the same





Jan Brueghel the Younger (1601–78), “Noli Me Tangere”

Musée Historique Lorrain, Nancy, France

Courtesy Olga’s Gallery





I saw the silent man across the street

Standing in his garden as if struck

By how it grew so lushly in the summer

While he himself was barren in his soul


I asked the man to visit at the Mass

We gather for on every summer morning,

For we were sterile till we saw the Christ

Who cultivates the plantings in His garden


It is the new allotment of the mountain

In which our souls were planted when He rose

That morning when the sun began to rise

Though we have yet to flourish as He did








Courtesy The Kirkwood Chicken House





A finch came down and settled on the feeder

Fed on many seeds but dropped just one

Which sprouted in the ground, it was a flower


The seed drew out its rootlet, from the top

Squeezing out a stalk that reached the sun

Which pulls the seedlings upward for its crop


Welcome little seedling, come with me

The sun said to the flower, turn and face

The west where I will set in majesty


So from a circumstance a flower grew

One flower turning westward to the sun

Though nothing that could see it falling knew



The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov / Last modified June 28, 2015/
Poems copyright 1994-2015 Pavel Chichikov/  

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