What’s in a Dream

I’ve waited for you waterfalls, I’ve longed to hear your voice

Your roaring thrilling love poems, your deaf’ning stirring noise

I’ve waited for you mountains, I’ve yearned to feel that breeze

That medal of your zenith, that zephyr of your tease

I’ve waited for you jungles, I’ve longed to venture through

Those spellbound coiled pathways, those verdant lavish hues

I’ve waited for you oceans, to take me far away

Cocoon me in your journeys, awake me with your spray

I’ve waited for adventures, savannahs, mounts of snow

Safaris, canyons, ice bergs, a rushing river’s flow

I’ve longed to feel the soaring, of the tallest redwood pines

To feel the thrill of swinging from timely vine to vine

I’ve waited for you kindly, I’ve dreamt of only you

Not seeing my surrounding – the modest, simple truth

I’m not on rushing waters; I see a humbler view

A quiet stream aholds me, in a just as meek canoe

No epic haunting soundtrack, no growing climaxed plot

No melodramas, heartbreaks, no loud exciting lot

There’s simply me, my presence, my mind, my heart, my soul

And then sometimes a chirping, of a blue jays heartened drawl

The trees that stand around me as I slowly drift on by

Are not as green as jungles, are not as tall as pines

But in their leaves are details that I didn’t seem to see

In all my restless dreamings, in all my passioned glee

The sun is brightly shining, veiling the path ahead

But his rays are warm and cozy, so I lie down instead

And there the azure greets me, with a smile that stretches on

And I feel safe and stable, in a humble wooden palm

True, these aren’t my mountains, my canyons, waterfalls

But I can’t betray this beauty, its vivid silent calls

And though my heart is grieving, for the lost could-be

I breathe this moment in, and shed the last should-be

Viktoria Nikola


The Human Gift


Here is my heart, though, how silly it is

To give you a gift, as faulty as this

I’d give you my mind, but I fear it’s away

In some faraway land on indefinite stay

I’d give you my soul, if only I could

But lost in my body is the thoughtless ol’ fool

I’d give you my spirit, but embarrassed I am

Of how small and how dim the light has become

And thus I am left with a beaten bruised heart

The one where the seems are coming apart

Don’t worry the wounds will fester, but heal

And then it's the scars, the seems that will seal

The bleeding will stop, the ache should assuage

It’s drumming might fade, It’s hearing might age

A Band-Aid or two and some gauze would do well

To send it towards heaven, or at least not towards hell

Please hold the poor darling, tell it you care

It might not believe you, but let us be fair

It’s fallen, it’s shattered, it burned and then froze

And now by it’s master so rudely disposed

I’d rather you have it though, horrid it is

For I do not trust me with such delicate things

I’ve tried and I’ve failed, and it’s time to give in

Farewell, my sweetheart, forgive me this sin

Viktoria Nikola

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


A Revolutionary Revolution

A quiet revolution, Is quite a unique thing
It’s strange in it’s unusual, it walks by using wings
It’s subtly romantic, with meaning in reverse
It’s neither hist’ry nor present, a dance that’s unrehearsed

A peaceful revolution, no bloodshed, tyrants, not a sound
Where we’ve revolted from revolting from legendary crowns
A tranquil insurrection, a paradoxal twist
A time with no more suff’ring, a place where love persists
Existing in obscurity, it shall illuminate its key
Then, with its delayed enlightenment, it’ll bring recovery
A revolutionary revolution, believe it, it shall come to pass
And with its unconforming reforms, its change will ever-last

Viktoria Nikola

Ashes Ashes

The dimming cinders of my spirit

Lay glowing feebly in the night

The smoke escaped my every merit

The arsonist: life’s pain and plight

My vessel’s blood rolled with a smolder

My passioned breath – a fev’rish dream

Here I have died, my ash grows colder

The air still vibrates with my scream

And yet a tale, I dare remember

Intangible, deep as the skies

That I exist still in these embers

And that a phoenix I shall rise

I’ll rise, and soar above my ashes

The pain I felt – a memory

The blaze, my death, might come in flashes

But stay a dying reverie

I’ll rise, but I am dust in limbo

The fire scents my senses stir

I’ll wait to cool, then from this pyre

I’ll rise. And be the firebird

Viktoria Nikola

I Think Too Much

I think too much and about everything

Does faith exist without our doubt?

Can we believe while never wavering?

Is this true faith that preachers spout?

I think too much and about everything

Are people good or evil-clad?

Or is this thought of these too severing

Can stains exist on a stained pad?

I think too much and about everything

Do we live life by choice or fate?

Can freedom be in actions following

A certain act, retort, debate?

I think too much and about everything

I question questions that I ask

And once I know, again I question them

I’m drunk on probes I might unmask

I think too much and about everything

Though is the key that I must stop?

For without thought, might I be burying

The aim for this, soul-body swap?

Viktoria Nikola

How Are You, God?

Tell me, God, how are you? Do many people ask?

What is this moment bringing? What is your current task?

Does anyone remember, to see how your ‘now’ is?

How many people pray, to not to pray for bliss?

Does anyone invite you, on a rendezvous of souls?

Where no one asks for something, where silence is the goal?

I can imagine what your world must now ahold

What novas you awaken, what planets you unfold

What angel you must council, is Gabriel of those?

Who pleas and pleas for something, till you undo his woes?

And what about the demons that you must now assuage?

Do they beg less than humans? Perhaps that comes with age.

Perhaps you’ve quelled a riot, of beings yet unknown

Or lit a revolution, in some forgotten zone

Or maybe in the belly, of the darkest galaxy

You paint a dance of colors, a nebula’s decree

How many deaths you witness, while I sit and write these words?

How many lives created. How many loves unfurled?

Your day must be a full one, for time is yours to wield

So in my daily praying, my begging I shall yield

I thank you for your greatness, and thus my prayers I quench

And if you have the time, come join me on this bench

Viktoria Nikola

Not Yet Done

Emerging from the woods at sunrise,

I scarcely could believe my breath

I was preparing for demise,

A painful end without reprise

Abandoned, lost, and doomed for death

My clothing ripped, my scratches bleeding

I looked up to the dawning sky

Why did it hide when I was pleading?

A time of sorrow superseding

When I believed ‘twas time to die?

Yet here I was, alive and healing

My strength returning with the sun

The heated rays my wounds were sealing

My joy anew the light revealing

I realized I was not yet done

The sun rose high above the trees

And I walked out onto the plain

A gentle wind called in a tease

And I surrendered to the breeze

Then stepped towards living life again

Viktoria Nikola
April 2018





I Sought You

I sought You in the silence, where stillness quakes the soul

Where doubts arise in violence, where thoughts the mind cajole

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But even in the quiet, You sat along with me

I sought You in the heavens, where stars our thirst ignite

Though winking giggles leaven the gravity of night

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But You were winking with them and smiling at me

I sought You in the river, that ever-changing flow

That silver-loving sliver, where golden flakes aglow

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But even in the riches, You reached to be with me

I sought You in the forests, where mazes blur the mind

Where cunning toxic florists, could even charm the blind

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But even in the toxins, You found some health for me

I sought you in the music, where tremb’ling notes despair

Their broken hearts so fearful that life plays out unfair

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But even in the heartbreak, You cried along with me

I sought you in the science, where atoms swarm with life

Where logical defiance aborts belief with strife

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But even in the logic, You kindled faith in me

I sought You in the soil, dead, veiled by a stone

That good will never spoil, That sin will never clone

I thought it was unlikely, that there you’d surely be

But even in that void…

You came and You held me

Viktoria Nikola
March 2015

If Only To Survive

In vain, in agony I loved you

Aflame with love’s tormenting light

For you in turn loved yet another

And had her only in your sight

I wept, I prayed, I paced, I wondered

Insane and wrecked at your behest

And yet I’d choose to stay asunder

To feel such passion and unrest

For life is dull and death untimely

How do we live while we’re alive?

Feel love, however grim, unsightly

Feel pain, if only to survive

(Written for my novel The Crystal Knights)