Welcome to my website! Here you can find some of my short stories, poetry and a few essays…
I moved to the UK from Russia now more than ten years ago. I have been collecting bits of writing, short stories, poetry.
With all that has been going on in the world right now, it feels at times that writing is all that we have left to maintain strength. I hope that some of you may find here what may resonate with you too or shed a new light/perhaps hope during what proves to be a very tragic time for our humanity…
MUSIC: IVAN SVETUNKOV ‘MY MOTHER’
Dear friend of mine, Ivan, has written a song inspired by my recent poem. Its beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time but illustrated horrible divisions within our families on matters of war. Ivan is also a writer and writes stories, poems…
Essay: A symbol for being human?
There should always be a symbol for something you own, right?What about the thoughts, an idea?What about when you feel warm/cold/hot?To a child you would have a symbol/ a drawing for everything, would you? For an adult, symbol is politics, right? What…
Poem: My mother
Every time I see pictures of the dead bodies,I think of my mother.Every time I hear about another war crime,I think of my mother.Every time I see tears,I think of my mother.I think of my mother,Who thinks that one day this will…
Poem: I thought I knew
I thought I knew what the pain is,I thought it is to be left brokenhearted by someone you love/trust,I thought it is saying goodbye to a friend, to my mother, whom I see so rarely.I thought the pain was to stand, to…
Poem: Knows it All
Someone who knows it all Can’t hold himself all together when someone speaks, Trembling with an urge… ‘Let me add here’, ‘let me add there’ I know it all! Someone who doesn’t know it all, Often is quiet, Often sits there waiting,…
Poem: A Man Who Laughed at the Funeral
I heard the sound behind my back, It sounded at first like the bird which tickles the ground Is someone laughing? Why not? After all, for once, we are all around. Isn’t it the time to share? The true faces, the true…
“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.”
― Anton Chekhov
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