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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
You thought you owned the night,
But the night owns you.
A shadow dancing in a borrowed light,
A ghost in rewound time,
A ghost in fading blue.
Rock and roll is dead from the start,
And you're all dead with it.
You've never contained anything more than this emptiness.
Rock and roll is dead from the start,
And you're all dead with it.
Your eyes are blinded by passion and conceit.
The leather jackets, the ripped-up jeans,
A costume party for a false dream.
You can’t resurrect what never lived,
A tombstone anthem, no love to give.
Rock and roll is inherently dead,
And you all are dead with it.
You’re dancing on graves, but the music won’t rise.
Only motley ribbons and smoke under neon skies.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
To the soul that is proud, dark demons appear,
Whispering lies—that it’s holy and pure,
Or they plunge it in deep despair,
Saying salvation will never be there.
Who prays with a heart still sullied by pride
Sees demons arise where the saints should reside,
Taking bright forms, as if clothed in light,
To drag down the soul into endless night.
Without humble awe, none may approach God’s throne,
Without tears of repentance, no heart is made clean.
Without holy fear, no love can be known—
Without love, a slave or a hireling remains.
Without purity, never the Eternal Light shown.
No contrite heart ever sees Truth’s radiant glow,
And none shall be saved but by Grace freely given,
Dwelling in souls by His mercy made shriven.
None shall enter the Kingdom above
Who did not first enter through faith and love.
Once soul from body is torn apart,
Too late to seek God—too late to start.
Too late to weep, too late to pray,
Only to wait for the Judgment Day—
For every thought, for each hidden deed,
When all that was secret shall rise, revealed.
Keep your mind in hell, yet do not despair,
Count yourself worthy of torment untold,
Worse than all creatures, demons, and men—
And God’s mercy will hold you then.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
Save me, my Saviour, by Thy Grace alone,
Not by the deeds my sinful hands have done.
Thou willest me to save: Thou knowest well
The way to rescue me from death and hell.
Save me as Thou wilt, as Thou canst, as Thou knowest;
By Thy known paths, Thy saving mercy showest.
Upon Thee, O my Lord, I set my trust,
And to Thy holy will my spirit I adjust.
Do with me what Thou wilt; Thy will be done;
I seek no other refuge, save the Holy One.
If Thou wouldst see me in the Light—blest be Thy Name!
If Thou wouldst have me in the darkness—blest the same!
If Thou unfoldest mercy’s door to me,
’Tis good and blessing; if Thou shuttest it,
Blessed art Thou, O Lord, whose just decree
Hath closed that door, as Thou dost see it fit.
If Thou destroy me not with all my sin,
Glory to Thy mercy’s boundless store!
If Thou condemn me for my sin within,
Glory to Thy righteous judgment evermore!
But as Thou wilt, dispose my path below,
That I at last Thy full salvation know.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
Longing for faith, my soul beneath the veil in grief did pine,
Till Thou didst teach that Grace alone bestows this gift divine.
Nor can repentance bear its fruit, nor contrite tears impart,
Except Thou cast perfect brokenness into the sinner's heart.
In showing me the true beginning of the way to Thee,
Thou humbledst Thyself unto hell's lowest deep;
The fearful gulf yawned wide beneath my wandering feet,
Yet Thou Thyself – the only Way – dost safely keep.
Thy Grace alone sustaineth whom the deeps would claim;
Thou stayest him that else were swallowed in despair.
Thou askest nought but tears in true repentance' name,
And mind made new by holy change and faithful prayer.
From Thee all things receive their life, their breath, their being;
Thou bringest forth from hell, corruption, passion's night;
Revealing purity no mortal thought can compass seeing,
And givest Living Water, lest the seeing soul should die.
May each inhale be Thy cold fire –
Ineffable, unseen, without beginning,
Unchanging, deathless, never to expire,
Intangible, yet all my being filling.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
Blessed love can never be despair,
For the Creator knows the heart’s hidden prayer—
Even words the lips refuse to bear.
The thoughts of men are fleeting, vain,
Chasing dust, a dying flame.
But Heaven’s law stands firm, untamed—
Like stars in a soul unstained.
Nothing is darker, nothing as dire,
As spurning the light of God’s own fire,
And calling truth a fleeting shade
That leads where all is lost, unmade.
No horror cuts so deep, so true,
As turning from the light that’s due,
Embracing ghosts that fade to black,
And never, ever lead you back.
If the light inside you turns to night,
How deep then is the dark’s embrace?
When trust in Heaven’s will takes flight,
A blind man walks in endless waste.
None shall see the gates of Grace
Till the heart is cleansed, unveiled,
Till it turns from its defiant way—
And lets the Light inside it stay.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
Part of my inheritance I did receive,
Though unworthy was I that gift to conceive;
Younger in mind, and wilful in thought,
I went to a distant land and squandered what I brought.
I wasted my Father’s gift in a wanton way;
From Grace I departed, and fell far astray.
Then, passing into spiritual insensibility,
The husks of the swine I desired to share,
Whose keeper I was—yet none would spare;
I longed to eat what they were given,
Yet no man gave me aught, though I was driven.
Thus was my soul perishing, bereft of all answer,
Having lost the dignity of sonship I bore;
Not merely as a hireling, for some wage,
But even as an unworthy slave.
How shall I return, when I have no boldness to plead?
I see how my brethren thy commandments heed;
Their obedience they keep, without blame,
While I have cast away my sonship and name.
O Father, I have sinned; I have gone astray—
Yet behold my repentance, and look on me, I pray.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
Through gaping chasms and depths untold,
Thou leadest me into Thy light;
Each grief I bear, each loss I hold,
Makes stronger still my faith's pure might.
Thou carvedst me deep, through trials and knife,
Each cut a step to eternal Life.
The weight of the cross, the sting of the thorn,
In the crucible of love, a new heart is born.
Through shadows that linger, through starless night,
Thou’rt grinding my edges till I shine just right.
Every scar tells the story of Grace,
Every flaw touched by a Saviour’s embrace.
Like a diamond in the rough, I was hidden, unseen,
But Thy hands, O Lord, make the broken gleam.
Like stars above,
I’ll reflect Thy boundless love.
Purified by suffering’s flame,
I’ll rise and glorify Thy name,
A jewel cut by Thy hand.
Let me sparkle in the promised land.
So rest, O soul, in the Saviour’s hand,
For the Master’s touch is never in vain—
Let Him grind and polish as He hath planned.
A humble jewel I shall remain.
Shine, crazy diamond, shine!
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
For thousands of years since their fall from Grace,
The desperate demons learned to twist the straight,
To steal the unripe in the darks embrace—
What lacks Gods root, what bears no Graces weight.
They work through blood, through marrow of the spine,
To breathe a paralyzing, nameless dread,
To plant their whispers deep into the mind,
Till men believe the thoughts are theirs instead.
Those not led by the Grace of God Most High
Are blind in spirit, helpless to defy.
They do not see their souls slow, sick decline,
And so they fall—they cannot help but die.
They cannot help but sink into the deep,
Trusting their strength—so frail, so incomplete.
The undertow will drag them in its sweep,
Down to the depths where Light and Mercy cease.
To fear a thing but God is to believe
That evil wins—the madness of proud hearts,
Locked in the prison of flesh, deceived;
And to rise—not for the Holy Endowed,
Not for the Holy Wills own arts,
But for unending torment, never freed.
Fear is the faith that lets evil prevail,
Forgetting all things by Gods will are made well.
But trust in His hand—only this breaks the spell.
* * *
O Light of Light—
The path is narrow.
O dark of dark—
The gate is wide...
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers—
Soft as whispers, bright as stars,
Untouched by earthly hours.
No hand may pluck their Grace,
No foot may mar their place—
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers.
Oh, the seekers come and go,
Clutching truths they’ll never know—
But the summit, cold and deep,
Guards its bloom in sacred sleep.
Veils of mist obscure the climb,
Fate selects the few to find.
What is pure will not be seen,
By the eyes that crowd between.
On the inaccessible peak, there must be flowers,
White as the dawn, untouched by hours.
No voice to name them, no step to mar,
They gleam like vows on heights afar.
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers—
Untouched by the seekers who climb,
Unspoiled by hours.
Where no voice calls,
And no foot treads at all,
On the inaccessible peak,
There must be flowers.
And if one soul, by Grace, should rise,
They’ll find the bloom… with chastened eyes.
They kneel in the temple of silence,
Where echoes dare not break the air—
The chosen, the cold, and the blameless,
Alone are permitted there.
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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Sergey Dobrenkov Poem
The key turned in the lock—a familiar sound…
The door sighed… just as we once sighed
Over lines of old and bitter rhymes profound,
So, gift, oh gift this loneliness till dawn’s light,
Love, with verses left unwritten, unbound…
Steps on the stairs like notes—a rise, then fall…
Words, doomed to the page, as if to the block, lie still!
I became the executioner of lines, killing all…
This pain, this bitterness… countless lines to fulfill—
Life, with verses left unwritten, stands tall.
Life, with verses left unwritten, stands tall…
Copyright © Sergey Dobrenkov | Year Posted 2026
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