A Novel Warning

I wrote this poem after I wrote my first novel. If I could, I'd make this the preface to all my works of fiction:




Don’t judge too harshly my rhyme and prose

My Russian soul – the lachrymose

For Pushkin’s ghost possessed my mind

And thus I build his verbal shrine


Let’s cast aside our logic’s reign

Let sane be lost to the insane

Let’s muffle screams of reasoning

Let our hearts sprout those fragile wings


And let us dive into the blue

Where shadows live, where truth’s untrue

Where all that’s wrong and all that’s right

Are switched at birth, and switched by sight


I weave a web of tale and lore

Where all our folly skips and strolls

Where civil wars divide the shards

Of broken hearts and fallen stars


Where cities die and people pass

And sands escape the hourglass

Where souls anew rekindle life

That tiny light put out by strife


Where all our hate is justified

And all our wars bleed out our pride

Where brittle hearts grow faith to soar

But chains of fear entrap that door


I weave a web, so we could learn

From fairytales how fires burn

That we need not, such travesty

I’ll weave this web, then set it free



Viktoria Nikola

2012

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