The Confessions of a Christian 1

The Confessions of a Christian. Book 1.

The Short Odes.
Bis repentur placet.
Horace.
Preface.
Dear reader,
You can find here many occasions to blame the author on that base that Royal English of now-a-days is far of another mode. But insisting on my rights to be in grammar as uncommon as poetry can permit, I'd want to point out the way I follow on my own.
Immortal Milton, heroic Byron, celebrated Coleridge and brilliant Shakespeare - all that had ever made me filled by spirit with which this great culture and language had here their imprint of words, reason of expression, and all that would in modest writer's cuisine be.
I hope it would be found- as usually was - that all having enough of happiness to befall here is but slight, exquisite entertainment for those as leisure as gentle people that have enough time and education to read for no other purpose but their bon-sens.
P.S. My epigraph that I took for this book is the best explanation of the rhymes' nature. Heaven knows where is the origin of harmony.
P.P.S. Royal English in my opinion is English of The Bible, Divine Service and of Saint people of God. Because Lord Jesus Christ is King of kings, and Lord of lords (Timothy 6:15).
 
 
The Prologue to Reader.
  I
So now I dedicate to You
 My modest book, and hope this time
 That royal tune of English rhyme
Will be in there though once- but true.
 II
With language which I ought to hone
 My simple-hearted lyre as may
 Did glorify its night and day,
And that's to come, and that has gone.
 III
No motto can explain my reason,
 No sentence- attitude to world,
 But speech so often golden-pearled,
But love that knows not air of treason.
 
0001 -- To St. George (acrostic).
To be the man- it means to be in war.
Oft now recalling of thy virtue's sword,
Since world has fallen from the ways of Word
Thou waited art as one immortal star!
Go higher on in light of Victory
Effacing vice. And still 'tis not in vain-
Or weary eyes, to Thou revolved to be,
Reject can this great joy for new disdain?
God- No! All life in me I ever had
Ere gets the dust- o lets the prayer get!
 
0002 -- The Hymn To Marvelous Icon "Royal" (Derzhavnaya).
Amen! Eternal Russian Queen!
   Amen! O, blissful Heav'nly maid!
O, if the Russia can be keen-
   She does rejoice uncommon fate.
 
0003 -- To St. Muse (feast day is 29th of May).
O, Heav'nly Muse!- please bless my soul and then
In happy prayer I'll respond- Amen!
 
0004 -- To My Child.
My Child!- If ever Thou be born,
 My Child!- I pray Thee be the One
Of Souls of Glory that have shone
 To world of pity as the Sun.
 My Child!- If ever Thou will see
 My stone on roadside to stay-
Pray bless me still. And God with Thee
 Let be as merciful as may.
 I don't pretend be prevoyant
 But still I say that of Fate of Thine
Shall be as pleasure as to grant
 Though drop of gift that wasn't mine.
 
0005 -- The Royal Post.
All woes and prayers, claims and cries
Are royal post of One-On-High's.
 He does select of all it pile
 With Father's humoring and smile
The heartful slang of heartless land
To make it true. On other hand
 When pettifoggings overcome
 He burns it down as Sodom.
So oft on pew regarding Host
I think again of royal post.
 
0006 -- The Hymn of Melancholy.
We've taken our lives for granted,
And dreams and thoughts on there planted
 Bring up the fruit of nicest juice
 Of Way, of Life and so of Truth.
But don't give up before the deal
With death as horrible as still.
 It's sentinel that comes tonight
 To last combat in mortal fight.
Ungodly creature of the sin
It has to be what would have been.
 
0007 -- L';p;tre ; Toi.
Thy name will be in me till breath
Is in my heart with humbleness.
 Thou art in Heaven, as a moon
 For death is night; for brightie noon
In mortal pleasures had enough
And strength of day is slightly tough.
 I'm waiting miracle, it's love
 That wants to rest as David's dove.
O David, David, make again
With godly lute my tears to rain.
 
0008 -- My Tribute To You.
So overwhelming sweet delights
 I have in shadow of memoir
 Of days so lovely, days so far,
The days for two, and lonely nights.
 Do blame me not, accuse me not
Of what we left in darkness back.
As swan with its white-snowy neck
 My song of love bemourns my lot.
 
0009 -- The Mariner's Air.
Don't thrill me- Nature! Night is black.
Boat's brought by waves too close to wreck.
 On sea was beaten by the storm
 My sails are torn, my soul is torn.
And boastings of the yesterday
Were broken now as straw of hay.
 And death turns up and up so near
 that almost mine and almost here.
 
0014 -- The Charming Maiden Ride.
A lightning maid in chariot,
 With sword in soft of garment held,
With tear so sweet about her lot,
 With passion any heart would've felt.
What miracle makes her afraid,
 Or dead centaur, or vivid muse,
Or love though partly was repaid,
 Or lover brave, or tragic news.
She rides the coursers, three in black.
 Dust lifts in air. And sun in strength.
And nature's scene with her was decked
 And nothing can her recompense.
 
0015 -- On The Lover's Flame.
In sky as blue as eyes of wisdom
I got to know the blow of freedom,
 And though my heart slept silently
 I got to know what's love to be.
And so experienced in it
I felt the flame of Heav'nly heat.
 But end- but norm- but very sight
 It was the sign of the love's might,
That drew me back to feet of yours
From where the flame does breathe and grows.
 
0016 -- The Mail Par Amour.
 I
I see- you'll never me forget.
   Remain I so and unforgiven!
If not on earth again we chat
   I see- we'll ever do on Heaven.
 II
O Rachel! 'Tis so dear- so sweet!
Thou echo art of Ancient Writ
That did descent from One above
As echo of the ancient love.
 III
I was slain though was immortal-
   Did Thou either look my way?
One that was so slightly moral,
   One about no word to say.
 IV
Beneath no further then above...
   Salute, Ye Love! Adieu, Ye Treason!
My heart is warmed, with wings of Dove
   It hurries up to comfort prison.
 
0017 -- On Being Near To You.
How to encharge your breast with love?
 How to enclose my love in there?
It's potty trick how to improve
 The stage so precious and unfair.
But you're too calm. Enchanted cold
 Held on the feature so unmoved,
That militant and storming world
 Can be itself by you improved.
 
0018 -- On The Waterfall.
In sylvan debris far away
 'Tween stones of ancient temple hall
The stranger can to see in day
 The lightning game of waterfall.
So I- and so my barren verse,
 On ruins of forgotten rhymes
The light of poetry disperse
 Above the people and the times.
 
0019 -- Song Of The Left Lover.
I ride the world to follow You,
 To find You out of changing scenes
Of barley in the morning dew,
 Of constant fare-wells and come-ins.
But not a step on dusty road,
 But not a man in night hotel,
But not a soul in all the world
 To me about You can’t to tell.
 
0020 -- On Intellect.
The sleepy eyes of dreaming half-unfold,
What did you see in thoughts mere half-untold?
Or rushing hence in mystic world of dream
You have no word in pre-eternal dim
To share with us for mere the price of praise
Of simple mortal in this deadly maze.
And so to-day, with rules of life neglect,
Above the all rules bare Intellect.
 
0021 -- On Birthday Of My Child.
My wife was pregnant with my child,
 I've seen it, but to trust,
That fruit of angelical mild
 Would be the maid so fast
I can't to manage. Time appears
 And birthday comes along
With all the whisperings and fears
 And then it flows to song.
So looking back, in time obscure
 I’m hearing there anew
In simple heart, the thoughts secure
 Of love and lovely due.
 
0022 -- To Woman.
My love to you was never dream.
 Was never dream my life at all.
Through desert world wind drew my scream
 As monumentum to my soul.
It's all enough to say you 'Bye',
 It's all enough to make me go,
But staring eyes so full of cry
 Permit me never be your foe.
Forgive me, if you can forgive!
 For sake of bless of One on High.
To warmth my heart from you receive
 I dare never to deny
With Hope, if there needed hope,
 With Tenderness, if I would feel,
Though any nice as salted drop
 Puts on my heart its sacred seal.
 
1994-1996
 
Fair Talks.
Beatus ille qui procul negotiis
Horace.

0001
For goodness sake, save me from money,
The gold is death for mortal man.
And if I shall be saved -O! Then
My grief will be still only funny.
My friend, if you're my friend forsooth,
Heal me please now from being greedy
Or otherwise my mind be seedy
And will not match to love and truth.
 
0002 --  Ode on War.
The war is mock-heroic business –
If to consider as nuisance
It all, we can highlight the fact
That ought in our hearts to act
As solemn pledge for love and peace;
Which is for sure be stated— please.
I’m glad to meet it in your eyes
But trace of passion that oft lies.
 
0003
E ‘l pentersi, e ‘l conoscer chiaramente
Che quanto piace al mondo e breve sogno.
Petrarch. Sonnet II.
I love to be alone- I love to know
That it is privileged the stage of show
Where are my thoughts which I don’t want to share;
For only solitude I have to care.
My bosom is not flower to be sniffed
By anyone, for loneliness I lived,
Nonplussed and baffled by society
I hold my inner world alive and free.
 
0004
The life is lot to get from here
 Along the obstacles of path
That makes from sinner the martyr,
 And never well-disposed to us.
And so, the man or woman, go!
 As strong as it's allowed by heart.
In God is our the hope. We know—
 The aim is crown that multi-starred
That wait to decorate our brow
 Among the glorious passers-by.
So let our reason put us now
 Afar from ubiquitous lie
That tells as has told: ‘Throw away
 The hardship of Commandments quick!
And get along yet day by day
 For heart can never pray and sing.’
 
0005
Too much of that get-rich-quick schemes
I changed in mind, so always screams
 My intellect, if just approach
 The new ones, there will be reproach
To that example of the fortune
I never fulfill, only torture
 In depth of heart with ruthless flame
 That bears no aspect and no name.
To be have-not means feel well-off
Under surveillance from above.
 
0006
We heal our poor souls with the word
That one which holds us on the cord
Of Love, Devotion, Care and Dream.
These bonds are easy to esteem,
And easy to forget for sake
Of ever present Grief and Fake.
So let’s be firm on blissful soil
Where our souls fight Sin and Spoil.
       
0007 -- On the Death of My Goddaughter Mary.
My child is dead. What’s all it worth?
With wind of Death to shore of Hers
The newborn soul now had departed.
Life’s ended when it only started.
I don’t like cry, but tears roll—
For yesterday my treasure stole.
My Mary left us all for good;
‘Tis something to me just to brood
On mores, years, people, fates—
They’re Fortune’s independent mates
Of now-a-days that rule unfair
In life and death, in tears and prayer.
 
Husky Chimes.
0001
“For bless my beard they aye shall be
My beloved Trinity.”
        Women, Wine And Snuff.
        John Keats.
Beer, pretty girl and rock’n’roll-
The modern trinity of all.
I’d like to say that modern reason
To cause divine is kind of treason.
We build the houses, smoke the cigars
And always out of our figures.
We like the football. MasterCard
Will pay for us where lacks the heart.
 
0002
I’m born to sing, to entertain
The shade of thought, the touch of pain.
Mon Dieu! I’ve nearly forgotten
To bless the day I’d been begotten.
The spare air on the lyre of mine
Will teach you lesson- Life is fine!
But burden of the years passed
Will knife me for my sins at last!
 
0003
Here come the God and sweetest tune
To rule my life and rather soon.
I like the air of mystery
Of David’s lyre the sage and free.
Come! Come the inspiration! Heaven
To give me sign to be regiven.
It’s sign of love- the last or lost-
The love to love at any cost.
 
0004
I like the music of my heart.
It’s not the cant of wholesome tart
Of pitty age. It’s just confession
In every likeable transgression.
My love is God! My God is Love!
Forevermore is not enough!
I’m stupid like your comic-strip
And years come will say me 'R.I.P.'
 
0005
So! So! I have no time to cry
Though I have anything of why.
Somewhere in future dead and cold
I’ll go to Judgment Heav’ns hold.
And there the hearty word of truth
Will make me smile afar of blues.
O, Reason! Reason - never mind
To be to poor and good and kind.
 
0006
I love Saint Icons. Our Lady
And Her Son Jesus make me heady
Or nearly so, when I can see
The mercy and to say “Merci!”
God save my soul! It needs salvation
Since moment of the my creation.
I’d like to beg The Heav’nly Father
To have after this life another.
 
0007
My God! I’m sinner. What it is
To have this rot in underneath
Where I’m writing Thee this letter
With tricky rhymes, with strict the m;tre.
I hope Thou read it to Thy Son,
As earthly Who’s as heav’nly born.
I pray Thee let Him save my soul.
It’s all I need. I need that all.
 
0008
Lo!- dear. O! look at Earth on map!
It’s miracle or shy mishap?
The people saints are, or the sinners?
The losers all? Or all the winners?
Who knows? The God if He exists?
He does!- my mortal frame insists!
So why the verse? So why the rhymes?
The Time will show! It nearly chimes!
 
0009
Take sword, my son!- and praise the God!
No fluctuations! Hit the road!
The sky will open to discover
That Time is up and Game is over!
Don’t worship Sun! Don’t worship Moon!
Thy day is near and to be soon!
Lift thought about in prayer where
The all is silence! God is fair.
 
Dust And Heart.
0001
Song is long. To cut it short
Say the same and only word-
‘Passions!’ Noble or obscure-
Ones to bear and to endure.
I had burnt too much to feel
Anything as clean as real.
Busted at the every turn
Of my life I ceased to burn.
 
0002
My days- that worthy and unworthy-
Scud now away. I’m not that tossy
Just to pretend I’m not the man
Who has made errors now and then.
Getting wiser with the years
I forgot about the fears.
I admit that death is scary
But, my dear, not too very.
 
0003
Church is only place where heart
Feels eternity. Apart
Of my previous gloom and doom
I am luckier. And whom
I’m to praise but God of mine.
I just wanted drop the line
On the subject of the fate-
Happiness is rare date.
 
0004
Hallmark serials and coffee
It’s to-day my only trophy.
Locked from world with my TV
New ascetics I decree.
No more news, no VH1,
No commercials and fun.
Childish movies is enough-
All another’s pretty tough.
 
0005
Bright future ev’n if it exists
Does not me hasten to enlist
To roll of fame in all my glory.
I’ll be forgotten. Readers!- sorry.
My verse too light to entertain
Though any part of any brain.
So when I’ll die just drop my books.
I will be spookiest of spooks.
 
0006
No waste of time to live along
The age of ours. It’s like song.
You sing it- so you have a clue
To know how every dream comes true.
If you broke silent- you are off
From all the happiness and love.
So tune your lute and strike the chord-
And you will be in better world.
 
0007
What way-way way to have the way
I did learn but yesterday.
When you way-way out of way
The position’s not OK.
Look and see the way is near-
Stupid laughter, honest tear
Will provide you with direction-
Be the human, take the action.
 
0008 -- My Will To My Daughter.
Dearie child, you’ll read this verse
Till the end of universe.
Listen fatherly advice.
Love the truth and say no lies.
Love the priest who feeds the poor.
Love the shy and the demure.
Love the fool and love the wise.
Love your Lord- He’s Jesus Christ.
 
10th of  May, 2006. Moscow.
 
Odes of Happy Morning.
0001
My Lord, my God, my Judgment come.
I waited years just to say-
‘I love Thee! Though I have to pay
For sins I did. Now I’m back home,
The pilgrim of no way, no use
I ploughed the roads those near or far.
The name of Jesus was my star.
The ways of world was all my blues.
 
0002
My heart to plead my guilt again.
Sin is distortion of the mind.
It charges the mortal with disdain
Of every prospect, every kind.
I drew the line on thoughts of mine
Which claimed to manage on their own.
Now I’m forgotten and alone
In fits of moods, in run of time.
 
0003
I was the man when time did come-
I had my wife and child and money.
I drank this epoch as a honey
To get the juicy one on bum.
I soon get crazy, undevote
To anything but God and truth.
So buzzed away my golden youth
Without even the afterthought.
 
0004
The passions come to us to daunt.
They are to hide, they are to flaunt.
We hate them, call them, treat them, bust them.
But after all we cannot trust them.
The family, the loneliness
Are different the games of chess.
We often sacrifice the pawn
When going to drive win home.
 
0005
My age is 35 this day.
The death is question of decay.
The love is question to survive
In future blessing, endless life.
I’ve seen the earth, I’ve seen the skies,
I’ve heard the truth, I’ve heard the lies.
When day will come and I will die
I hope to come to live on high.
 
0006 -- To my daughter Mary.
My child, if only you’ll forget
My foolishness in saintest goodness.
I’ll abandon all my aloofness
And we will meet. Then to be said
That you’re my blood beloved and pure,
That you’re my dream of life eternal,
That you’re the blessing my paternal,
That you’re my pain I cannot cure.
 
0007
Hills are silent, sun is down.
Night’s above in starry gown.
Birds are sleeping, wind is going
Through the trees in tender blowing.
Earth is moveless, moon above
Shedding light on the behalf
Of the day devoid of dreams.
Darkness all around swims.
 
0008
My word is final- I love God.
He’s miracle, He built creation.
With Him my future and the lot.
His kingdom’s final destination
For whole my life. In light of His
I will receive His final will.
What’s God of mine? And who He is?
The One beyond the word and feel.
 
2006.
 
The Songs of Grace.
0001
No way to help me with a booze.
I’m gentleman but out of use.
I’ve spent the years on tobacco,
On wine from Frenchman or from dago.
I loved and hated, dreamt and lived,
I cried and prayed, and swore, and grieved,
And now I’m honest to my God,
Know when, and why, and how, and what.
 
0002
Wake up, my soul!- ye pilgrim shrewd!
Put up the fight against the feud
Of sin and sorrow, wrath and lie.
You’ll never loose, you’ll never die.
And time will go, and tomb will come,
But you’re to live, my pretty chum.
We’ll win- The God set honest rules
For rich and poor, for wise and fools.
 
0003
Leave me alone. I want to cry
And touch my lute. I don’t know why
But fingers longing for the strings.
They are my voice, they are my wings.
I’m rare bird, to be poetic
It’s partly stupid and prophetic.
I don’t know which of that in me.
The song will show! The Heav’n will see!
 
0004
I wrote, burnt all old stuff, and wrote.
My friend, I’m perfect don’t-know-what.
The melodies of rhythms and rhymes
Fly from my heart and all are crimes
By laws of now-a-days and on.
Fame is capricious on her throne
Built on the bones of glorious past.
Let’s sing her reign, and do it fast.
 
0005
Christ will come to judge our sins.
Love declares its rules and wins.
What to be said then for my part
By My Dear Lord? Thought gave me start.
But I hope! For what? For grace.
All my age was fault and craze.
Only power of Supreme
Can absolve my every sin.
 
0006
I’m ill with song. I dare to say
I’m burning over as dry hay.
The fire from Heavens pierced my frame
And my absurdly morbid shame
Did give in to the word from high.
I cannot sing, I cannot lie.
My heart is lyre that full of truth,
My soul is shaky, mind is loose.
 
0007
I beg your pardon, beg your pardon.
Your eyes ablaze with tender stardom.
Be careful- love is so ferocious
And often knock us out of conscience.
Be careful- but trust yourself!
Do have insight in soul to delve
For gift that suits the sacrifice
On altar of the Truth of Christ.
 
0008
I’m goofy chap- no more, no less.
It’s damn of mine that came to bless.
I see the world through rosy fog
Of foolish dreams. And like a rock
That stands the storm of open sea
I stand the life. And so would be
One day I’ll wake among the saints
And soul be free of all the stains.
 
0009
My verse and lute will have their end.
And both began with good intent.
Now I pretend to be the poet-
The pose not always be right-ho-ed.
The poetry will never die,
With angels it will ever fly
In New Jerusalem in skies.
The poetry’s not thing that dies.
 
0010
I sit in church. Five women sing.
All is calmness on the wing.
Once in a week I hear their song
To be not one, to be among
The people who believe in God.
It’s unconceivable the thought
To understand the gist of faith,
But lovely one, the one that dares.
 
0011
Don’t blame me on my shabby rhymes.
They come in harmony sometimes.
More often they are just a word
Not to be read, nor to be heard.
To piece together thought and feeling
It’s like a labor of birth-giving.
The baby all of a sudden cries
Just to begin its way to skies.
 
0012
It’s morning. Time to rise and shine.
It’s Sunday morning all divine.
I’m toiling on the book of verses
Not for the money, not for service
To anybody’s fun or crack.
Words come and go, and then come back.
The poetry is art of love
To one beside, to One above.
 
0013
Wine has its taste, tear has its run,
Man has his woman, earth its sun.
I have my poetry and reader
Has something stupid to consider.
Some say ‘It’s good.’ Some say ‘It’s bad.’
And so enough there will be said.
And finally I’ll meet my God.
What will He say- no word or lot?
 
0014
My dearie child, don’t scorn the father.
I was unhappy man- o, rather!
You’ll hear the plenty of the lies
On my account. So be nice.
Don’t trust to hatred full of wrath.
Don’t trust to oily sainted gloss.
I hope you’ll be content with story
About my life. So I don’t worry.
 
May 7th, 2006. Moscow.
 
Pensive Rhymes.
0001
Insight in the hell is a damn.
Insight in the Heaven is blessing.
Stop preaching the business and messing,
Please get in the clear, like was dreamt.
I hope I’m not much Nosey Parker
In hearts of my nearest ones.
The life is exceptional chance
To see light when it’s getting darker.
 
0002
I’m dark in heart, I’m light in mind.
We move to Doomsday side by side
Just to obtain through Godly law
What planted was the years ago.
It’s thoroughbred of fault and love,
Not rather too much pleasant stuff,
That gonna kill us one a day
And no one will have much to say.
 
0003
Lock your soul in the chest
For all convenient and best.
Lock your reason in the head
Not to hurt the quick and dead.
Lock your feeling in the heart
It’s your trump and only card.
Lock your life in modest thought
You are not what you are not.
 
0004
I’m bred of people e’er content
To spend that much they could to spend.
They were the officers in army-
No vapid sorts, not that the barmy.
They hated, loved, and fought, and died
When could not hate, and love, and fight.
Now I’m alone. They all are gone.
I’m next to go. I’m their son.
 
0005
Big times when rhyme was worthy thing
Had buzzed away at fullest swing.
To-day the rhyme is just old game
That cannot help to win the fame.
It’s hallmark of be not aware
Of now-a-days and be not there.
I’m rhyming poet nonetheless
And oft was damned when hoped for bless.
 
 
22nd January, 2005 Moscow (Russia).
 
Fighting Melancholy.
0001
I was the MasterCard-less man
In age of plastic credit
But finally I get it
And now I much more can.
Here are no Ads in rhyming-
I know I have to pay
For credit, not to say
That credit is but dying.
 
0002
I wish I’d master peace of mind
Which is responsible for sadness.
I wish I would forget the madness.
So Heav’nly blessing I to find.
It’s love for every fellow being.
It’s will to live and will to bless
All those who hurt me. I confess
That nothing like was in beginning.
 
0003
My tummy’s not the child of beer.
It raised on neuroleptics.
And if your mind is skeptic
Do test my breath, my sir!
It smells of milk and honey.
It smells of lonely home.
And you will say “Bon homme!”
And you will think “Good sonny.”
 
0004
I hope for best when fight to write.
I wait for worst when get to read.
This book is not the child of greed
For fame and gold, nor claim of might.
Almighty Word, The Son of God
Had come to us to teach
The rules and pleasures of the speech,
To save us from the rot.
 
0005
My gov is dot God not the other-
The prayers have own Internet
Where runs thru the years things been said
With Jesus, and Mary, and Father.
I was little boy when connection I found.
I plugged all my soul to saint glory.
So now I have nothing to worry-
I’ve happiest life all around.
 
0006
Scott said “So down with British rule!
Of these PMs I’m tired.
I love my freedom hot and cool-
The one to be admired.
Globalization’s bliss, my foot!
The Island’s full of rockets!
Excisemen rob the pockets
And buzz away with loot!”
 
0007
I have no time to sing my song
So I’m to cut her short.
Kind Microsoft did give me Word
To spell my words along.
The typo can kill gist of zeal,
The grain of inspiration,
And murky intimation
Is not the tune to feel.
 
12th of April, 2007. Moscow.
 
Holding Steel.
0001 --The Letter of Damnation To Antichrist
You’re damned, and damn, all over damn.
You won’t be happy. So what then?
To cry in blasphemy and sin;
And you will be what would have been.
You’re not the God, nor Son of God.
You’re ailing weakling and the sod.
Flame waits you in the shortest time.
I’m not the yours, you’re not the mine.
18th of March, 2008.
 
0002
Last time I cried when did suppose
What am, what will be and what was.
Last time I cried and omen came
That all the one and all the same.
The baby, man and elder are
Three bodies of one soul so far.
And moral of this poem short
Is that I know what, what and what.
18th of March, 2008.
 
0003
I love to pray, the Book of Psalms
Is inspiration mine. I’ll come
To Heaven on a one a day
To have Eternity to pray.
I’ll sing with angels and the saints
In glory ever. David deigns
To such poor stupid like I am
And he is blessing all of them.
18th of March, 2008.
 
0004
My mother’s kind, I’m sort of bore
Ungrateful one to say no more.
I love her, she is only treasure
I have on Earth in human measure.
But unobedient to core
I’m brute indoor and outdoor.
The Judgment come will show my sin
Though even nowadays it’s seen.
18th of March, 2008.
 
0005
My simple poetry makes life
In simple hearts, in simple reasons,
In simple climes, in simple seasons,
In simple way and with no strife.
The simplitude for me is blessing.
All complicated things I leave
With no disdain, no pain, no grief,
And with no shame in it confessing.
19th of March, 2008.
 
0006
The quiet wisdom is all for
The quiet life, the quiet love.
But you won’t hide in holy grove
From warlike struggle and the chore
Of worldly movement and consent
To be the one in sin and glory
That is about to be more gory
Than all the previous ones in end.
20th of March, 2008.
 
0007
My love is God. It’s chaste and free,
Illustrious and much rewarding.
And if to find the perfect wording-
It’s Holy Trinity of three-
First’s knowledge of the Holy Writ,
The second’s word of saint accord,
The third is blessing of the Lord
To be the one of Holy Wit.
20th of March, 2008.
 
0008
Now I’m to finish new my book.
The poetry is aye short run,
But aye it shines like summer sun,
But aye it’s clear like summer brook.
It’s hot and sweet like Russian tea
That served was at the five o’clock.
Now book is ended and to walk
Over the land and over sea.
20th of March, 2008.
 
Odes And Hymns.
0001
Atonement of any my transgression
Is in the prayer. It’s a fire comes from Heavens
And holding all of me alive through years.
And when I die I will be held
In flames not of the hell but of paradise
To glorify The God, Saint Mary,
The prophets, and the saints in Temple
On High and blessing all I love.
 
0002
My age is rare evidence of weakness
In poet that is to pursue
The misery and vanity of glory
To know just only jokes
From those who never sing
In inspiration and are never to pursue
The misery and vanity of glory
To hear just only jokes…
 
0003
I love to hear song of spring
And whispering of old the autumn,
The wail of winter, and the summer’s storm.
The melodies of earth remind me
The Hymns of Heavens
Where the angels and the saints
Live in glory that eternal
Which is a psalm from book to read
When I’ll be one of them.
 
0004
I’m only Christian – good or worst
I don’t know. But I know for sure
That it’s a gift from High –
From Godly Heaven –
From Mother of Lord Jesus Christ –
The gift to bear like sweetest burden
Of all are possible on Earth and there on High.
It’s Gift of Life and Love and Chastity of Heart.
 
0005
I sang minority of God;
I sang The Christians – glorious tribe.
And song was pure and words were mercy.
I preached The Gospel in The Church
To babes and sucklings, and to lepers.
And wisdom came as fire from Heavens
And burnt my sins and warmed my heart.
I’m not the prophet but the madman.
 
0006
In Heaven angel sings of Love
Among the blacks and whites and others.
And hermit did cry on the earth
When heard this song.
Because its words were wonder
Of the Life and Blessing.
And hermit said to angel then
“When Christ will come we’ll sing together.”
 
0007
My soul is sinful, I am sinner.
My ways are dark, my mind is dim,
But when I sing I watch the Heavens
In heart of mine by spiritual eyes.
These eyes can see the mysteries of God,
The words of prayer of angels’ language,
The light of Love, and Life, and Truth, and Wisdom.
These are much clear the moment when I cry.
 
0008
I wait the frightful hour when I die.
The devil and the angel then will come
To fight for right on me,
To hold me in their hands.
And angel will be winner in the combat
For right on me. And we will go on High
To Christ and Mary, Saints and Father.
And there will be the table, bread and wine.
 
0009
I loved and hated, hoped and was dismayed.
I bear the Cross among the beasts and people.
I saw the wonders, treasons, prophets and the death.
I’ve read in Holy Scripture explanations
Of all and all – and these are words of Truth.
Truth personally which is Jesus Christ,
The son of God and God Himself.
In resurrection I’ll be by His feet and singing.
 
0010
My melodies are not ingenious.
I sing the rivers and the hills,
The heroes of the past, ancestors,
The Bible, angels, prophets, kings,
The Holy Trinity of God.
And song of mine goes on and on –
It’s song of glory never-ending.
 
0011
The Christians know that Church will never die –
Lord Jesus Christ proclaimed it in the Gospel.
And troubles are to come, and darkness to descend,
But we will be the One with God.
And final battle is to show our courage,
And we will be the One eternally. Communion Holy
United us in Blood and Flesh of God.
 
0012
America – it means Beloved.
It’s in old Spanish dialect, you know.
But who loves her? The Christ? Or Devil?
What’s answer to be? By the way
Of shedding the innocent blood
She came in power –
And that is awful harvest of this job.
America! – Thou cryest for peace. But what to come?
 
0013
Strict dress code of Washington,
And light fancy of L.A.
What is better? Years gone
Have the answer for this day:
“Look and see! Be proper man,
Or the woman, or the girl.
Tastes are different in all –
Go according purpose then!”
 
0014 The Prayer.
Angel, angel, angel my!
Sing me saintest lullaby!
 That’s about Saint Mary, God,
 Gospel four, and Christ – The Lord.
Angel, angel, angel my!
Sing me saintest lullaby!
 That’s about all saints, and kings.
 That’s like psalm that David sings.
 
0015 Ode on Saint Nicolas.
I have defender on the Heaven.
His name Saint Nicolas, he’s given
In nightly dream his blessing me
To sing the Kingdom come and be.
Whole planet calls him Santa Claus
And asks for gift. I’m at a loss
How Heathens, Muslims, Jews believe
In Christian saint in Joy and Grief.
 
0016 To Rev. John Waddington-Feather.
You’re friend of poetry alive
Who dares to sing his own song.
The years will pass. Yet there’s strife
With devil, with ungodly folks.
But, Christian, go! The plume’s your sword.
With Word of God does live your word
In rhymes, and metre, and the talks.
 
0017 Ode on Saint Icon of Mather of God of Vladimir.
Thou art the Mother of ye God.
Thou art on High, and angels sing
Thy glory taking on the wing
To help the people. There’s no thought,
No word, non psalm that can express
Thy love to God and to His Son.
Saint Mary, Thou art only One
Who can the love of God confess.
 
0018 To Ferris Jones.
Globalism is Anti-Christian.
Fight the Devil is your mission.
And be brave because you’ll see
Kingdom of the Saints and Free.
Free from sin, from veneration
Of polluted generation
Of the fiends in human shape
Who descended from the ape.
 
2008.
 
Poetic Case #1.
0001 -- Ode on The Saint Annunciation.
Saint Gabriel did say to Mary –
“Thou art now Happy very-very!
Thou’ll be The Mother of The God.
Thou art Most Saint. Though Grief a lot
Will touch Thy Heart when Crucified
Will be Thy Son. And in Thy might
Will be to Save the ev’ry soul.
Be Blessed!!! Be Blessed!! And that’s the all!”
6th of April, 2008.
 
0002 Ode Dedicated to Holy Memory of Sir P.G. Wodehouse.
I’m gay for gaiety and joy
To save my soul the Heav’ns employ.
I’m not the sod for gaiety
Can live in heart that is sin-free.
So that’s the Truth – I’m Christian Gay
In Easter, Christmas and to say
That God is joyless that’s the lie
And I will prove it when I die.
6th of April, 2008.
 
0003
     Avent donc que d’;crire apprenez ; penser.
         L’Art d’;crire.
         Boileau (1636-1711)
Great Boileau was master of satire.
So tune to laugh – o, ye my lyre!
And scourge the blasphemy on earth –
You will be worth of better worth.
So mock the heroes of the age
When devil does come forth on stage.
And teach your string to ancient air –
That’s Good for God, for people’s fair.
6th of April, 2008.
 
0004 Ode on Emily Dickinson.
            Wonder upon wonder
            Will arrive to me.
                Emily Dickenson.
Her first word was the ‘Fire’ –
The Heav’nly-borne.
She was American, the female,
The spinster in the white dress,
She locked her room when writing.
Poetessa! She knew her inspiration by the name,
And that the name was “Heaven”. Now
When reading her short poems I am praying.
6th of April, 2008.
 
0005
The Christ is superior to any my thought.
I’m blighter in vanity, He is The God.
The slavery saint to His might is my choice
And hence is my song, and hence is my voice.
The Teacher of teachers, The Savior and Lord! –
From Word of Thy Wisdom is drawn my word.
I’m weak, and blasphemous, unworthy and mad
But in Thy Saint Church united we stand.
6th of April, 2008.
 
0006
“Globalists, hands off the world!”
Jotted down little girl,
Sent to president of States
Hoping for the better fates.
Mother came and baked the cake,
Girl then asked – “For goodness sake,
Say me why are men so evil?
And they jokes that woman’s devil.”
7th of April, 2008.
 
0007
Quick sparrow and ferocious eagle
Are Heav’nly birds. And in the middle
Between the earth and the blue sky
They lead their life. And when I die
On tomb of mine will coo the doves
In honest feeling, one that loves
Without possession and regret
When free and when in hunter’s net.
7th of April, 2008.
 
0008
I’m mad as hatter with one difference – I’m writer.
So, mad as writer I’m to live in dreams.
Not plausible solution. But why it is not way
For living in the age of plastic cash,
And all the blasphemies plug-ugly.
I’m mad as writer who is Christian and
I write about The Church, about the angels
Of Mercy and of Poetry to come.
7th of April, 2008.
 
0009
Everyone who lives in Church
Bears in heart The Christ - The Torch.
Light to world of mostly dark
Is existing! Lo and Hark!
We’re The One in prayer of
Everlife and Everlove.
Who is with us? Who is not?
Christ will come! He’s our God!
9th of April, 2008.
 
0010 Ode on Royal English.
I love The English of The God.
My books are taken from The Bible.
So Royal English in its lot
Of Royalty of earthly tribe all.
Last rhyme’s from classic of the song.
Lord Byron taught me one a freedom
That everywhere is solemn wisdom
That Christian is, there’s nothing wrong.
He died for liberty of Greece
Defending Church, but not in battle.
On bed of sickness he was mad all
By thinking how the Heav’n to please.
9th of April, 2008.
 
0011
Every man in the chambers of imagery.
            Ezekiel 8:12.I
Without let and hindrance I go to poem new.
And, Reader! – what can stop me?
If there is belief in True God
Nothing will dare shy me out.
My lute is chaste and so has every way
Declared on it by Gospel.
I strike the accord. Earthly melody
Goes to Heaven’s Sanctuary.
9th of April, 2008.
 
0012
My verse is little too Byronic,
Though I’m no lord, nor macoronic.
I love the poetry as is.
It’s only way the Heav’n to please.
The poetry of prayers, fasting,
Saint Icons, life the everlasting.
The Poet first is Christ The Lord,
The Holy God of Holy Word.
9th of April, 2008.
 
0013 Prayer to King David, The Psalm-Singer.
      Who is not from David- is not Cossack.
           Ancient Cossacks’ Proverb.
O, David! – father of my ancestry
By male line – I’m certainly Thy son.
And song of mine to carry on
Thy Glory over land and sea.
Please, help me! Bless me from the Heav’n!
I’m lone, I’m poor, I’m mad but Thine.
Saint blood comes to me in the line
By God created, bless’t and giv’n.
9th of April, 2008.
 
 
 
 
To Be Continued.
In Christ We Win,
Sergey Streltsov.