The Edge Of Darkness

The edge of darkness keeps a monster

That rules the wall of “now” and “then”

And on this bulwark, this imposter

Instills cold dread in nearing men

 

The air there smells of blood and murder

The wind there moans in loss and threat

One’s heart there whimpers in a murmur

One’s palms there drip with nervous sweat

 

The edge’s monster knows true horror

One’s greatest fear is his to bend

He could command one’s deepest terror

And turn one’s will to useless sand

 

Yet in its claws it holds a secret

That it can too be crucified

For all it takes is one’s defiance

A dab of courage in the eyes

 

To stand up to the dread it summons

And know one might succumb to fright

To weep and see the end as coming

Yet stay and bear the fearsome plight

 

For only then will this imposter

Yield way for one to leave the ledge

Where what-may-come lives in a fostered

Light’s warming loving waiting edge

 

Viktoriya Neverov-Krstic

2019

An Era Gone

I woke to find the day was night

The mist of dew dried out

The morning jay’s song of delight

Replaced by music’s drought

 

I woke to find the trilling birds

Had flown down south for summer

The snow had come of cold curse words

And war beats of fate’s drummer

 

I woke to find an era gone

Its dreams dead for re-gift

An age had come and now twas done

And I never knew it lived

 

© Viktoria Nikola (2018)

My Favorite Pushkin Poem

Like the typical Russian, I love Pushkin’s work. It’s so profound and heartbreaking and it captures the very essence of all tortured souls. Unfortunately, it’s really difficult to translate and make it sound as good in English as it sounds in Russian. Nonetheless, I tried. Here’s my favorite Puskin poem, translated by yours truly.

The Angel

By the gates of Eden, an Angel, gentle

Shone with his softly drooping head,

And in the darkness a Demon, rebel

Over the hellish ravine fled

The sp’rit of doubt and of negation

Looked at the other one of good

And in a flame of forced elation

For the first time, he understood

“Pardon,” he said, “but I have seen you

And not in vain you’ve shined me light

Not all in heaven I had hated,

Not all on earth I had despised.”

Alexander Pushkin

Translated by Viktoria Nikola

Paradox

I didn’t choose to be a paradox

It’s simply so unorthodox

And seem to be a dark anomaly

A weird asserted mystery

Somehow defined by ambiguity

Make rational decisions stupidly

I didn’t wish it, but here I am

I am a lamb; I am a ram

I’m definitely undefined

Confused, refused, then re-defined

I am not sure and yet assured

That when time comes I am insured

I’m two unlikes on the same end

I am a good, which good amends

Stranger than thou, weaker than thou

But somehow plow a larger plow

Two parallels run within me

Both magnet polars, complexity

I seem to live in joyous death

Yet I take pleasure in every breath

Unsatisfied in my content

And happily at times lament

I live inside pure non-conformity

Thus love’s a burden, hence I am free

© Viktoria Nikola

The Finish Line

I’m running to the finish line
And I ignore the pain
I’m running to the finish sign
Soon I will win; soon I will reign

I’m running, but the goal’s far-set
Nor do I hear my chanted name
My victory’s a silhouette
For I have promised the crowd my fame

Deep in my veins I feel the rush
Of triumph’s gold-heaving breath
And in my ears the audience’s hush
Is pumping, throbbing, killing death

Inside my heart I feel the joy
I sense the soon relief
And then despite the ache decoy
I soar, I fly, and I believe

There is no one to say I can’t
Although I hear this cry
For blessed God, whose blessed grant
Is confidence doubts can’t defy

For me, there’s no more time
I’ve won, I’ve reached my goal
I am the victor, calm, sublime
And I am great and I am whole

© Viktoria Nikola

Finding Ourselves in Nothing

Between the words that are spoken, there lies a fragment of truth

Where life exists unaltered, where being roams in sooth

Where spirit finds its essence and egos cease to exist

Between the words that are spoken, before it fogs over with mist

Between the breaths that are taken, a hint of forever dwells

The shards of immortal presence, the songs of eternal bells

The nothing in all existence, the everything in a void

Between the breaths that are taken, we live, before we’re destroyed

Between the thoughts that are rising, our consciousness dares to be

Our limitless burning power, our soul’s perpetuity

Our senses in endless directions, impervious to demise

Between the thoughts that are rising, WE ARE, until silence dies

But with every quiet instant, we resurrect anew

Like the stillness of a sunrise, like the drops of a morning dew

And in these silent moments, we are love and truth and space

We find ourselves in nothing, then in something lose the trace

© Viktoria Nikola (2018)

The literati mafia

Between the words that are spoken, there lies a fragment of truth

Where life exists unaltered, where being roams in sooth

Where spirit finds its essence and egos cease to exist

Between the words that are spoken, before it fogs over with mist

Between the breaths that are taken, a hint of forever dwells

The shards of immortal presence, the songs of eternal bells

The nothing in all existence, the everything in a void

Between the breaths that are taken, we live, before we’re destroyed

Between the thoughts that are rising, our consciousness dares to be

Our limitless burning power, our soul’s perpetuity

Our senses in endless directions, impervious to demise

Between the thoughts that are rising, WE ARE, until silence dies

But with every quiet instant, we resurrect anew

Like the stillness of a sunrise, like the drops of a morning dew

And in these silent moments, we are…

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