The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov

Pavel's new collection of poems, A House Rejoicing, is now 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.

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 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."  

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




Harry Rountree (1878–1950), “The Fox and the Grapes,” Aesop’s Fables

Courtesy Pinterest


Hear Pavel read  "The Fox and the Grapes."




The hillside scat

With fruit was able

To show that Aesop

Told a fable


For in this case

The fruit hung low,

The fox in comfort

Let it grow


Until the grapes

In easy reach

Were near enough

To need no leaps


No sour grapes

That they were sour,

Wait in patience

And devour


But hasty foxes

Only whine,

With empty bellies

Empty minds


I saw the scat

But not the beast,

Perhaps an early

Morning feast


And that as well

Is no surprise,

Take no encores

Say the wise


Fame is fleeting

Grapes are sweet

But eat them ripe

And then retreat







Dolichopodid fly; photo by John Beetham

Courtesy photographer, on A DC Birding Blog





Little golden fly

With golden beads for eyes

Sunning in the sun


Workmanship so fine

That fifty on my thumb

Could fit along a line


No sumptuary rules

For lapidary schools

With insubstantial tools


A slender abdomen

With armor soldered on

By little artisans


Appointed to the court

Of some magnificent

Lord of firmaments







Who would not laugh at such a dunce

Who can both laugh and cry at once?

Let us go in peace, my friend

Of if not peace then let’s pretend


No one likes unfriendliness

So at the least let’s make them guess,

A smile for you, a smirk for me,

The moss grows all around the tree


That is the practice in this place

Where good and evil interlace,

But afterwards we are refined,

Our very persons redesigned


Appearances to be made new

No different for me or you,

Truth is what we will become

And those who see will be struck dumb


Was that my center all the time,

A mixing up of love and crime?

Yes, my friend, and not to be

Two faces for eternity







“Between the Corn Rows,” by Betsy Spencer

Courtesy Pinterest




Roads between walls of sorghum and maize

Higher than sight except overhead,

Drive to the points of the compass around

Find the way out from the maze of the dead


Each intersection where pavements meet

Is a cross of the roads at the center of vision,

Mile after mile the roadways go

Cob and tassel in blank derision


How do we find a road that leaves?

Never a house or a light or a town;

The harvest must come or the way is blocked

And the only way out is to cut it down





Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia); photo by Liz West

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons





Virginia creeper turning deepest crimson

Swathes a power pole beside an alley

As if it were a column made of porphyry


The columns in a temple or a church

Are not so beautiful, this column lives,

Climbing by a power that forgives


All is one, both animate, inanimate

A sacred temple where the Lord resides,

No roof, no walls and open on all sides


Where is the inner sanctum of this place?

What holds it up and will it ever fall?

No ruin can there be that has no wall






(September 15  is the Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows.)



Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato (1609–85), “The Madonna in Sorrow”

Courtesy Wikipedia Commons





Not alone to shepherds or in caves

No burning cherub or Creator’s slave

But one of us, Mater Creatoris


Not alone to victims or to innocents

You also come to help impenitents

And prisoners, Mater Salvatoris


Not alone to save the faithful weak

But those who crucify you also seek

To hear them, Consolatrix afflictorum


Not alone to heal infected hope

And those condemned to bullet or to rope

But also killers, Salus infirmorum


Gentle and forgiving the unloved

We hear you in the pitying of doves

And follow you, Regina Angelorum


—From Lion Sun: Poems by Pavel Chichikov (Grey Owl Press, 1999)





The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov / Last modified September 14, 2014/
Poems copyright 1994-2014 Pavel Chichikov/  

Proudly hosted by 

Opinions expressed here are solely those of the author.