The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov

WATCH THIS SPACE for news of Pavel's latest book, Animal Kingdom.

Hear Pavel on CATHOLIC RADIO INTERNATIONAL.  New programs are posted on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Pavel's podcasts continue weekly at pavelreads.com and are archived there.

Pavel's Mysteries and Stations in the Manner of Ignatius brings together meditations on the Mysteries of the Rosary and the Stations of the Cross. See www.amazon.com for more information about Lion Sun: Poems by Pavel Chichikov and Deep Wonder: Poems by Philip C. Kolin, a collection of "poems you can pray," both published by Grey Owl Press, 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.

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

Enjoy artist Timothy Jones's blog page, which features his painting "Fallen Oak." And be sure to visit the lovely site on the Way of the Cross at Gethsemane Garden Stones!  

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@erols.com) and must be credited to Pavel Chichikov. No alterations in the text may be made. All copyright restrictions apply.













El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos), detail, “Christ Carrying the Cross,” 1580

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City

Courtesy Wikipedia Commons


"That is Christ, Father. The Greek painted Our Saviour." (J. F. Powers, "Prince of Darkness,"  Vintage Books, 1947)


Listen to Pavel read "Crucifixion Being Slow..." (MP3 format)

 

CRUCIFIXION BEING SLOW…

 

An old woman helped from a wheelchair to a pew—

“Let them shoot me like a horse when I’m as weak as you”

But Jesus looking down from the anguish of the wood

Nodded in His agony and said He understood:

 

For I would not have hung here, if there had been a way

To compass a deliverance and get around this day,

But all that I could see was the working of the will

To hang Me on this bloody cross, and I am hanging still

 

Everyone who sees Me must suffer much the same,

Whether in their own sweet time, or whether in My name,

Everything that flourishes knows that it must be:

The children of My charity must come along with Me

 

But when My heart descended to pump the mortal blood,

Then from the wounded side of Me came sorrow in a flood,

Crucifixion being slow, could not these men instead

Swiftly with an edge of steel cut off My sacred head?

 



FROM THE HOLLOW FUTURE…

 

From the hollow future

Came something that would happen,

Concussion everywhere

That roared against a membrane

 

It was so long ago,

The hottest day of summer,

I never have forgotten

How violent the terror

 

Future and the past,

It tore the world apart,

The feared foretelling blast

Tore out the city’s heart

 

Will it now descend,

The bright destroying star?

It will not long delay

The future is not far

 

Yet perhaps a branch

That never bore a tree,

A crucifix to which

I never bent a knee

 

A crucifix that never

Held the corpus of

The Crucified of cities,

Annihilated love

 


UNTIL THROUGH THIS

 

I thought that we had wandered far

Beyond the light of any star,

And there in darkness looked behind

But nothing in the dark could find

 

It was the inner universe

Where Christ can weep and Job can curse,

It was the soul’s profound abyss:

The scorpion, the Judas kiss

 

Each is lost inside each one,

Father this is chaos come,

Children I was helpless too

Until through this I came to you


 

A VISION

 

How strange! I saw the planet from above

Clear and bright and cloudless

Azure sea, transparent atmosphere

The land, its shapes, and cities too

 

Then disturbance on a coast I will not name

Now the memory has faded

Then a flight of fighter planes

Swooping, dipping like a flight of birds

And finally a little bird itself

Fluttering amongst the squadron –

The little bird descended toward the Earth

 

I swept around the world’s rim slowly

From high above, as if in orbit,

Eyes without a body I could sense,

But then could recognize no more—

Interference by the planes shut off my vision

 

I think those aircraft were not earthly

And the future is forbidden

Yet, there will occur a nearer time

When what has come to be

Will be no further hidden

 


THE ANCIENT SORROW

 

Look at my linen trousers,

Spattered drops of red,

A sacrifice to suffer

The spiritual dead

 

We are close and far

Sleeping and awake,

Souls are what we are

Which time can never break

 

Life is the spirit living,

But the spirit of the life

Is sacrificed by giving

What never felt the knife

 

Priest I do not borrow,

I give the wounds of Me,

Five and the ancient sorrow

Of lonely agony



OUT OF BABYLON

 

I have no harp to hang upon a willow,

Nor memory of any home or homeland,

No Galilee of hillsides saffron yellow,

No Sharon of the vineyards to defend

 

But I can sing memorials of sadness

To what I never knew but can defend,

It is my precious fatherland of witness,

My motherland of glory without end

 

If I ever strike the chords of exile

And then renounce the melody of honor,

Let me sing of Mary for a while

And soon I will remember to adore her

 

For she will give me every song I sing

And out of Babylon her children bring



SENTINEL

 

Heron in the morning shade,

Pool beneath the fallen tree,

How can such a form display

The commonplace of mystery?

 

Virgin of the silent dawn

Before the sun has reached the rim,

Gentle-blue and pure of form,

Sentinel announce the wind

 

 





The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov / Last modified June 28, 2009 /
Poems copyright 1994-2009 Pavel Chichikov/
URL: http://users.erols.com/fishhook/.
Opinions expressed here are solely those of the author.