Poems that you liked.

[SeRg !$!]

Know, know how to order yourself,
Drill yourself, don’t nurse,
Know, know how to deny yourself
Successes that are true, but deceptive.

Know how to refuse outright,
Without fear of loneliness,
From extrajudicial dexterity,
From the saccharin of easy honors,

From affection, concerned about payment ,
And from love, loving prosperity,
And from gilded livery
Refuse even in rags,

Someone’s indifferent help,
From someone’s escaping essence,
Refuse - even while drowning -
From the enemy’s reaching hand.

[Venus]

I will be cured by time - by the best of healers...
And God will reward everyone according to their deserts...
On the one hand, I have no one to trust,
On the other hand, at least no one will betray .

Now I have become my own boss:
I go to guests where I haven’t been for a long time.
On the one hand, I feel sorry for what has collapsed,
On the other hand, I couldn’t do it anymore.

All the doors are closed and all the stones have been torn off.
From now on, I have become a stranger forever.
On the one hand , without love it’s very cold,
On the other hand, I’m calmer alone...

I’ll go my own way as best I can,
They don’t love me, they don’t they remember, they don’t believe, they don’t wait...
I know one thing: it’s better to be alone
Than to wait to be betrayed, as always...

(c) Olga Nazarenko

[Mongoose]

I’ll start with sad verses on the flute,
In vain to Russia through distant countries:
For all day I have her kindness
I have a lot of desire to think with my mind.

Russia mother! my immeasurable light!
Allow me, I beg your faithful child,
Oh, how you sit on a red throne!
Russian sky, you are the Sun, clear!...... .......
Why are you, Russia, not abundant?
Where are you, Russia, not being strong?
You are the only treasure of all good things,
Always rich, the reason for fame.

If the stars all shine with health in you!
And if the Russians splash loudly:
Vivat Russia! Viva dear!
Viva hope! Viva good.

I will end on a flute with sad poems,
In vain to Russia through distant countries:
I would need a hundred languages
To glorify everything what’s cute about you!
( Vasily Trediakovsky )
The poem is not complete - the beginning and the end)

Sent after 3 minutes 46 seconds:
INSTANCE
n
Son roars. Beaten for a deuce with a plus,
The wife took the last ruble for the curls,
The husband, lost by the shop and gumboil,
Counts the monthly loss.
They grunt pitiful pennies on the accounts:
Buying an umbrella and firewood has made a hole,
And a pink hood made of cotton wool
Throws a bent bald head into the sweat.
A siskin whistles just above your head
( Even though God’s bird hasn’t eaten since morning),
A lonely saffron milk cap is sour on the saucer,
But the vodka was drunk to the last drop yesterday.
The little girl under the bed gives the cat an enema,
In in an influx of happiness, with her mouth half-open,
And the cat, having indulged in gloomy pessimism,
Excitedly screams in a tragic voice.
An eyebrowless sister in a shabby jacket
Rapes a cold piano,
And behind the wall a seamstress dweller
Sings a romance: "Understand my sadness"
How can you not understand? In the dining room, cockroaches
Leaving the stale bread, they thought a little,
In the buffet glasses rattled sympathetically,
And dampness drips like tears from the ceiling.
(Sasha black)

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/qq5jPn08/photo-2023-11-06-10-30-45.jpg
Среди миров, в мерцании светил
Одной Звезды я повторяю имя…
Не потому, чтоб я Ее любил,
А потому, что я томлюсь с другими.

И если мне сомненье тяжело,
Я у Нее одной ищу ответа,
Не потому, что от Нее светло,
А потому, что с Ней не надо света.

Отправлено спустя 23 часа 5 минут 35 секунд:
https://i.postimg.cc/5NGzHgK8/photo-2023-11-07-09-33-54.jpg
Мне мил ноябрь — предшественник зимы,
Хоть самодур и нравом переменчив,
С дождём и снегом, властью ранней тьмы,
При свете фонарей почти застенчив…

Люблю туманы, хруст подстывших луж,
Незрячесть к лицам, дом с горячим чаем
Ноябрь суров и сентиментам чужд,
Скуп на цвета… Но так порой отчаян!

Вдруг впустит солнце. И оно, спеша,
День рассветит, раскрасит, отогреет…
Весна — и только. Вот тогда Душа
Вся встрепенётся и …зазеленеет…

[loving]

But angels are worse than demons.
At least we’re not lying to ourselves.
You blow up your Universe,
You slash yourself with a knife,

You hate yourself, you try
You fix what you have done,
nYou don’t cry, but you repent,
And you don’t have the strength to fix it.

Everything is fine, we are not omnipotent,
I want to help you,
And your eyes... the sky is blue,
And mine are like starless night.

You are a child, you are really small,
As if you haven’t lived for a thousand years.
I ask you desperately,
And without words: you touch the soul

Mutilated, crippled,
That was once human.
You and I are eternal until nightmares,
And inside we have dirt and darkness.

But angels are worse than demons,
I have been watching you for a long time.
You don’t take prisoners either,
Only I... love you.

Don’t think with melancholy and pity:
That I have nothing to lose.
Look at me, please.
I don’t want to die.
"Yakov Ivanov"

[Murena0314]

Outside the window there is only night, only night, only snow.
I am on my knees in the twilight.
Only transparent tears running down my cheek,
Tears of joy and pleasure...

Only in the night is the belt cutting through the air,
In its strength is my weakness
Only the icy chime of heavy shackles
Brings submissive joy

Only the light of a lonely burning candle
For me it is piercingly bright
Drops of wax on the back, on the shoulders, on the chest
For me this is the best gift.

I desired pain, that’s all I want
A gag in my mouth is a consolation for me
Lying naked on the cold floor...
This is the only moment I need...

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/C5vDm5G6/photo-2023-11-08-09-54-52.jpg
Королева Осень,
Важная персона —
Шлейф из жёлтых листьев,
И венок — корона.

Из рябины гроздьев
Ягод красно-алых
Бусы получились
Краше, чем кораллы.

Дорогая осень,
Ты щедра дарами
Из грибов и ягод,
Яркими цветами.

Золотая осень,
Ты сама богата,
Осыпаешь землю
Драгоценным златом,
Одеваешь в шубу
Рыжую, пуховую,
Чтобы пережить помочь
Зимушку суровую.

[Pierro]

Forgive me for not loving
For indifference and deception
For the fact that I killed in you
Hope sewn from wounds.

nFor the fact that in the evenings in the park
Sitting under the stars alone
For the fact that you madly believed
That we would be together until our gray hairs.

nFor not sharing my feelings
I caught a crane in the sky,
And you were a wingless tit
And you were never loved.

n(c) O. Ershova

[Alex020362]

Your fingers smell of incense,
And sadness sleeps in your eyelashes.
We don’t need anything now,
We don’t feel sorry for anyone now.
And when the spring Messenger
You go to the blue land,
The Lord Himself along the white stairs
He will lead you to the bright paradise.
The gray-haired deacon whispers quietly,
Behind the bow he makes a bow
And sweeps with his sparse beard
The centuries-old dust from the icons.
Your fingers smell of incense,
And sadness sleeps in your eyelashes.
We don’t need anything now,
We don’t feel sorry for anyone now.

Alexander Vertinsky.

Sent after 13 minutes 39 seconds:

Mancuso, modernity requires its authors.. poetry must change with the times..

Yes, it does. So it was, is and will be. Must change. Only the need for new modern poetry does not in the least detract from the words, thoughts and feelings of the poets of past centuries. They (poems from different centuries) should go hand in hand. Not competing with each other, but complementing each other. Good poetry is the wisdom and experience of human consciousness, talentedly compressed by the poet into even poetic lines. Sometimes even to the point of a laconic quatrain. And love, and courage, and gratitude, and........ all other bright feelings of people were in the souls of our distant ancestors. There are today and there will be in the future. And therefore, I would not diligently divide poems into modern ones and "those..." It would be better to classify them differently: good and empty. And sometimes they are worthless. P.S. How do you like Evgeny Yevtushenko and Konstantin Vanshenkin? The very recent past.

[Whike]

I don’t remember the author. I was lying around for a week with rubella in a hospital in Severodvinsk in 1996 and there I came across this book. It’s so simple, the circulation is like 1000 copies. I memorized one verse I liked, I read it for myself on New Year’s Eve." A year passes. It’s a little sad for us. It has already become a particle. We can leaf through it day by day, Like the story of a page we’ve read. And counting, leafing through it day by day, our successes and failures. Carefully spent. We are careless. Judge us not, We spend our days thoughtlessly, like children, We have more than one century left. And we will become poorer in hope, for joy, for happiness, for sorrow. A year goes by, goes away forever. We must say goodbye to him kindly. Whether good or bad, He will never return to us again. And it will not happen again..."

[Rainmaker]

I have only one fun left - fingers in mouth, and a cheerful whistle.
The bad reputation has spread that I am a bawdy and a brawler

[Alice]

Oh! what a funny loss!
There are many funny losses in life.
I am ashamed that I believed in God.
I am sad that I don’t believe now.

[Pierro]

How do you like Evgeny Yevtushenko and Konstantin Vanshenkin?

my dear Alex! After all, I’m a local morgenal here... so, I’m digging slowly, without understanding what’s going on..
in “Zostav Ilyich” the faces of the people, greedy for fun, are well captured. straight documentary filming at the Flight Technical Institute..
the audience is packed..and they..they catch the ear - every line, every word..every pause between words..
p.s. and Yevtushenko was there..

[loving]

Petya is sitting on the couch, watching porn, eating a banana.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a cockroach runs out.
As soon as Petya bent down to crush him with his slipper,
The cockroach knelt down and began to beg Petya:
—Don’t destroy me, Petrusha! I’m not just a cockroach!
I am a wizard and magician from distant lands overseas.
If you let me go, you will not harm me,
I will fulfill your only wish in an instant.
Having hidden a cockroach in a jar so that it could not escape,
Petya began to think quickly about ordering one.
Suddenly, he remembered about the porn, the one he was watching,
And how much he wanted to participate in that debauchery:
—And this, cockroach, will you be able to handle?
Look at the TV... that’s exactly what I want!
You would put me on the TV for twenty minutes,
And then I would come back and free you.
— Okay! Agreed! Go on your debauchery!
Promise that you won’t crush me when you come back.
Soon Peter returned from a sex trip, a little alive,
He began to bludgeon a cockroach:
—What have you done, you bastard, to me!!!
I wanted to be a sultan surrounded by women’s bodies,
And I didn’t want to be in the place of that blonde at all!!!
"Yakov Ivanov"

[Christmas_Christmas]

CAT

In dusty Moscow, an old house with two stained glass windows
It was built in some kind of 11th century...
Nearby lived a Dazzling Black Cat...
The cat, whom the Man loved very much...

No, Not Friends... The cat just noticed him -
Squinted a little, as if she was looking at the light
Heart was beating... Oh, how Her Heart Murmured!
If, at the Meeting, He Quietly Whispered to Her: “Hello”...

No, Not Friends... The cat is just for him allowed
To stroke Herself... She sat on Her Knees...
One day in the park She was walking with a Man
He suddenly Fell... Well, and the Cat suddenly went crazy...

The neighbor howled, the siren... The ambulance was rushing...
What was going on in Everyone’s Head?
The Cat Was Silent... She Wasn’t His Cat...
It Just Happened That Way, that... That was Her Man...

The Cat Was Waiting... Didn’t Sleep, Didn’t Drink or Eat...
Meekly Waited for the Light to Appear in the Windows...
Simply She sat... And even turned slightly gray...
He will come back and quietly Whisper to Her: “Hello”...

In dusty Moscow, an old house with two stained glass windows
nMinus Seven Lives... And Minus One More Century...
He Smiled: “Are You Really Waiting for Me, Cat?”
“Cats Don’t Wait...Stupid, Stupid You...My Man”

[Alex020362]

A year is passing. We are a little sad. He has already become a particle of what he has lived. We can scroll through it by day

Poems - A year is passing
A year is passing. The calendar is losing
The last pages are rapidly disappearing.
And soon the fancy amber candles
Touches the fingers of a trembling hand.

A year passes like a gray-haired veteran,
Leaving his own temporary boundary,
So that the long-awaited, strong, young
Gives us new aspirations and hopes.

A year passes. He was complicated, not simple -
Not everyone was warmed by his warmth.
He answered a tricky question,
Although not everyone liked the answer.

A year is passing. And let him not help
Achieve everything for someone in a short time,
For all the accomplishments...
Author: Vasilkov

[Bully Carrie]

The cat inside is made of love
And the outside is all fur.
If you are sad, call the cat.
He will come and sit next to you.
He will sing furry songs,
He will stick his claws into you.
You are ready to die from melancholy,
But it’s not time to die yet.
You are losing your cat here:
Don’t combed, doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink,
Is it in vain that he sings to you?
Is it in vain that he screams at the door in the morning?
In his world, love is food,
The rest is all vanity.
- You love me, right? - Well, yes!
- Well, get up, feed the cat!
Every cat is made of love,
No matter how much hair grows on it.
Stroke it and feed it all year round.
Because you are lucky.
Because a cat is made of love.
Because he says: “Live!”
(c) Darina Nikonova

[Pierro]

It’s dark under the arches of the Kazan Cathedral.
The heavens are hidden by the usual dirt.
On the sidewalk in a sluggish outbreak of argument
The voices of night beauties wheeze.

Shops are sleeping , walls and gates.
The plague of love in painted eyebrows
Reminded the passerby of someone
Long decayed in abandoned lands...

A short bargaining finished hastily -
There’s a loving couple in a cab:
He smokes greedily, and she snorts.

A policeman floated by, yawning sadly,
Floated a lantern of a deserted bridge,
And a drunken maiden whistles after them.

(c) S.Cherny

[March]

https://i.postimg.cc/0Qy0vr2N/image.jpg

[Pierro]

There is a glove on my hand,
And I will not take it off,
Under the glove is a riddle,
Which is sweet to remember
And which leads the thought into darkness.

On the hand is the touch
of the thin fingers of dear hands,
And as my ear remembers the singing,
So preserves their impression
An elastic glove, faithful friend.

Everyone has a riddle,
Leading into darkness,
I have my glove,
And it’s sweet for me to remember it,
And I won’t take it off until we meet again.

(c) N. Gumilyov

[alexey.bro]

He was red,
like a stew made from saffron milk caps.
Red,
like oranges in the snow.
Mother joked,
Mother was cheerful:
“I gave birth to a son from the sun...”
And her other one was black and black.
Black,
like burnt tar.
She laughed over the questions she
said:
“The night was too black!..”
In the forty-first,
in the forty memorable year
they shouted loudspeakers are in trouble.
Both sons, both two, the salt of the Earth -
bowed to their mother at the waist.
And left.
I had a chance to smell the young ones in battle
red furious fire
and black smoke,
the evil green of stagnant fields,
the gray color of front-line hospitals.
Both sons, both two, two wings,
fought until victory.
Mother waited.
She did not anger,
she did not curse fate.
The funeral
went around her hut.
She’s lucky.
Happiness suddenly struck.
Lucky one in three villages around.
Lucky her.
Lucky her!
Lucky!—
Both sons
returned to the village.
Both sons.
Both two.
Flesh and become.
Golden orders cannot be counted.
The sons are sitting in a row - shoulder to shoulder.
Legs are intact, arms are intact - what else?
They drink green wine, as usual...
Both of them have changed their hair color.
Hair has become
deadly white!
Apparently, a lot
nwhite paint
y war.
1972

[sensitive]

https://i.postimg.cc/G2Z1MxSP/39161457-SHpalikov.jpg (с) Геннадий Шпаликов

[Pierro]

Don’t cover your face with a rag,
After all, soon there will be nothing left for you,
I could hang around between two capitals,
But I don’t know who I’ll have to bow to.

Friends, there is nothing but ignorance all around
Disbelief and no information.
Ah, girls, oh lovely, your freshness -
For the truth, another obstacle.

Whether the drum thunders or the pipe cries -
It’s all the same to me if it’s right,
But if a bitch walks nearby with a purse,
I’m not sure , that this is right.

Why, tell me, am I not sure about the future?
After all, the past sounds like a discordant string,
And I will meet the present in the bakery,
Ah, the new is so obscene.

But there is a guarantee that everything is beautiful in the future,
Not dust and heat, but a pleasant cloud.
A magical moment - a bitch comes with a handbag,
Every movement in her is incomprehensible.

Ah, this moment, ah, bitter brew,
Let the beer ferment in a barrel along with malt,
After all, life could have been pure soaring,
But the sky was filled with rain and cold.

There were no pleasures, no clothes -
An army in shirts passes by,
Her hearts are located between,
As if the sound is in five-line lines.

A thread stretched at the five ends,
And the insect does not want to live.
It does not want to breathe, however,
No one can know its intentions.

(c) Tail and Henri Volokhonsky 1968.. song..

[SeRg !$!]

We return beauty to our dark, depraved little world)

Sent after 4 minutes 24 seconds:
https://i.postimg.cc/s22gh88q/photo-2024-04-23-12-49-30.jpg

Влажная печать признаний,
Обещанье тайных нег —
Поцелуй, подснежник ранний,
Свежий, чистый, точно снег.

Молчаливая уступка,
Страсти детская игра,
Дружба голубя с голубкой,
Счастья первая пора.

Радость в грустном расставанье
И вопрос: когда ж опять?..
Где слова, чтобы названье
Этим чувствам отыскать?

[Pierro]

about ten years
she walked ahead
she had a net in her hands
there was something round in the net
wrapped in newspaper
tried to catch up with her
but to no avail
tried to call out to her
but no result
waited - maybe she would look back
but she didn’t look back
finally she stopped
turned around
and stared at me
why are you following me? -
she said angrily -
I am Judith
I have the head of Holofernes in the net
do you want to see?
she unfolded the newspaper
and showed
the severed head of Holofernes
I almost fainted
that’s how we met
since then
we’ve been walking side by side
I’m carrying net with the head of Holofernes
it comes light
the head is quite heavy
I must say

(c) G. Alekseev

[Hair shirt]

Forgive me for not loving
For indifference and deception
For the fact that I killed in you
Hope sewn from wounds.

For the fact that in the evenings in the park
I sat alone under the stars
For the fact that you madly believed
That we would be together until our gray hairs.

For not sharing my feelings
I caught a crane in the sky,
And you were a wingless tit
And you were never loved.

As I understand it, this was carved on the tombstone of the husband who passed into another world?

Sent after 5 minutes 18 seconds:

I will be cured by time - the best of healers...
And God will reward everyone according to their deserts...
On the one hand, I have no one to trust,
On the other hand, at least no one will betray me.

Now I have become my own mistress:
I visit guests, where I haven’t been for a long time.
On the one hand, I feel sorry for what collapsed,
On the other hand, I couldn’t do it anymore.

All the doors and stones are closed all torn off.
From now on, I have become a stranger forever.
On the one hand, without love it is very cold,
On the other hand, I feel calmer alone...

I will go my own way as best I can,
They don’t love, they don’t remember, they don’t believe, they don’t wait...
I know one thing: it’s better to be alone,
nWhy expect that you will be betrayed, as always...

Come on, then you make faces.
I think that everyone deserves what he receives from the Lord through life. If, of course, this Lord really exists.
But I think the majority, by and large, do not believe in this.

I think that life is like a game of cards. That is, no matter how bad a player you are, trump cards still come to you during the game. And sometimes it’s not bad at all.
And the question is just not to screw up this hand and play these trump cards.
That is, you just need to be able to wait and then be able to not screw up your happiness.

I have heard from many people who have gone through divorce that in their hearts they regretted that they separated. In the sense that their expectations from life after divorce were better than reality. And it turned out that it didn’t get any better. That some of the following men did not live up to their husband. Of course, I don’t take the case when the husband was simply a binge alcoholic. That is, the majority of men and women get divorced because the family in which they now live does not correspond to the ideas of what it should be.

And then after the divorce it turns out that this former family is already destroyed it was awesome compared to the reality you have to face. Moreover, in all respects, and in terms of attentiveness to each other, and in terms of sex, and in terms of money, and in terms of leisure time.
And that’s why people often push around after a divorce, push around, and get back together again.

Long ago I read a post on this forum where some woman wrote that she was now the mistress of her ex-husband. It’s like they completely separated. My husband got married after some time. And this woman who was his wife, she pushed around so much and didn’t find anyone better than her husband. And somehow she invited him home, like moving the refrigerator or something else. Well, they had sex in the end - these people are not strangers to each other!

Well, we both liked it.
Well, they practice this business from time to time, well, once or twice a month. And in fact, she is his mistress, her husband is married!
Oh, how it happens!

[Venus]

hair shirt, )))A lot happens in life) )) that’s what life is for.

[Aion2012Dead]

hair shirt,
As if, perhaps This state of affairs does not suggest the idea that the existing system of monogamous relationships is ineffective?
And it is much simpler, better and more profitable to follow the idea of ​​unbridled copulation of everyone with everyone?
Naturally, this is not an option. While STD diseases exist in our society.
Although there is protection, it is based on the consciousness of the person himself (use of contraceptives) - which is already a failed idea.
Therefore, the status quo, in terms of moral understandings of correctness will not go anywhere and will not change, and even more than before they will instill their correctness.

Sent after 7 minutes 15 seconds:
I myself was what I now consider a thought form.
I was aware of vice and whim.
I was aware and was predicted.
And I had no sadness.
Besides the one that gnawed at my soul, which was in spite of me.
And although I will not disturb this peace -
I ask for one thing - to kill me.

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/Dw23QHtK/photo-2024-04-26-13-05-25.jpg

Грубым дается радость,
Нежным дается печаль.
Мне ничего не надо,
Мне никого не жаль.

[Pierro]

The rude are given joy,
The tender are given sadness.
I don’t need anything,
I don’t feel sorry for anyone.

You can’t do that! this verse is good in continuation, development... and climax!

I feel sorry for myself a little,
I feel sorry for the stray dogs.
This straight road
She brought me to a tavern.

Why are you swearing, devils?
Or am I not the son of the country?
Each of us pledged
For take a glass of your pants.

I look dully at the windows,
There is melancholy and heat in my heart.
Rolls into the sun, getting wet,
The street in front of me .

And on the street the boy is snotty.
The air is fried and dry.
The boy is so happy
And he picks his nose.

Pick, pick, my dear,
Stick your whole finger in there,
Only with this force
Don’t meddle in your soul.
n
I’m ready... I’m timid...
Look at the army of bottles!
I’m collecting corks -
Plug my soul

(c) S.E.

[SeRg !$!]

Come on?! Truth? otherwise I didn’t know that this was an excerpt

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/4xShnrVv/photo-2024-04-30-16-17-42.jpg

Ну кто бы смог, ну кто бы вынес,
Когда бы не было для нас
Торговли масками на вынос
На каждый день, на каждый час?
Рядись лифтером и поэтом,
Энтузиастом и хлыщом,
Стучись в окошко за билетом,
Ори! Но но забудь при этом,
Что «Вход без масок воспрещён».

[RANGE_]

The night rushed about in pre-dawn delirium,
Clouds like Mongolian horses,
He smoked on the cool balcony
Under the scandal of midnight neighbors.

And she , spread out shamelessly
On the spread out flimsy sofa,
Like rust in a broken faucet.
It was a molten red sun.

Blurred shadows were approaching,
They swam into the sky like stupid herons
They followed the raindrops.
On the entrance cement steps.

And in the apartment that smelled of love
The sounds evaporated like ghosts
On the scales of inevitable separation
Loneliness put weights.

The door will slam, putting all the dots
The half-smoked smoke of a cigarette,
Hidden the answers to the questions
And he will lock her in solitary confinement.

The stars will be further away, then closer,
For in winter, summer will crumble,
And she, under the clock of castanets.
She will sleep, spread out shamelessly.

On the pillow, molten red,
A lock of hair , like a ray in a window,
He can no longer reach the sun.
He just became a little lower.

And wrapped in a checkered blanket,
The city will stand on the platform,
And play a dull saxophone
To the scandal of midnight neighbors.

(c) A. Gutin

[Bully Carrie]

The night rushed about in pre-dawn delirium,
Clouds like Mongolian horses,
He smoked on the cool balcony
To the scandal of midnight neighbors.

And she, spread out shamelessly
On the spread out flimsy sofa,
Like rust in a broken faucet.
She was a molten red sun.

They were approaching blurry shadows,
Swimmed into the sky like stupid herons,
Followed by raindrops.
On the entrance cement steps.

And in the smell of love apartment
The sounds evaporated like ghosts
On the scales of inevitable separation
Loneliness put weights.

The door will slam, putting all the dots,
The half-smoked cigarette smoke,
Hidden the answers to the questions
And he will lock her in solitary confinement.

The stars will be further away, then closer,
Summer will crumble after winter,
And she will play castanets under the clock.
She will sleep, spread out shamelessly.

On a molten red pillow,
A strand of hair, like a ray in a window,
He can no longer reach the sun.
He just became a little lower.

And wrapped in a checkered blanket,
The city will stand on the platform
And play a dull saxophone
To the scandal of the midnight neighbors.

(c) A. Gutin

GOOD!

[Bully Carrie]

Immortal Sasha Cherny.
"Error"

It was in the provinces, in the terrible wilderness.
I had for my soul
A dentist with a body whiter than lime and chalk
And for the body -
A milliner with an amazingly tender soul.

Ten years have flown by.
Now I’m big...
I am so bitter and ashamed
And severely offended:
Oh, why did I miss out on being a dentist
Beautiful body
And on a milliner
An amazingly tender soul!

It’s always like this:
You have to live boringly for ten years,
To understand sometimes,
That you can quench your thirst with water ,
And beautiful roses for the nose.

Oh, I would sell my books and vest
(They are not needed in spring)
And under the fresh breath of spring
I would buy a ticket
And go to the province, into the terrible wilderness...
But, alas!

Mad mind croaks confidently: “Nonsense!
Don’t rush -
Your dentist,
Your milliner
has neither body nor soul.”
n
(1910)

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/kgjTzPw8/photo-2024-05-01-08-41-10.jpg

Мы рядом шли, но на меня
Уже взглянуть ты не решалась,
И в ветре мартовского дня
Пустая наша речь терялась.

Белели стужей облака
Сквозь сад, где падали капели,
Бледна была твоя щека
И, как цветы, глаза синели.

Уже полураскрытых уст
Я избегал касаться взглядом,
И был еще блаженно пуст
Тот дивный мир, где шли мы рядом.

Отправлено спустя 23 часа 37 минут 41 секунду:
https://i.postimg.cc/dQfBG0Tg/photo-2024-05-02-08-18-41.jpg

Пустое вы сердечным ты
Она, обмолвясь, заменила
И все счастливые мечты
В душе влюбленной возбудила.
Пред ней задумчиво стою,
Свести очей с нее нет силы;
И говорю ей: как вы милы!
И мыслю: как тебя люблю!

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/dtkBMdgt/photo-2024-05-03-08-19-01.jpg

Спустилась ночь, луна мерцает,
В окошко, льется мягкий свет
В дверях открытых возникает,
Сердец влюбленных, силуэт

Он и она, в объятьях ночи,
Сладкий витает аромат
Ей о любви, сказать он хочет
Да губы шепчут не впопад

Она смелей его, немного,
Целует алые  уста...
Ложились тенью, от порога,
В ложе, влюбленные сердца

Укрывшись покрывалом счастья,
Сливаясь в целое одно,
Забыв о непорочной страсти,
Пили греховное вино

А лунный свет, все лился струйкой,
Ночи, стирая темный цвет
И дымки, легкие чешуйки...
Стелясь на землю,шли в рассве

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/BnRsF2wY/photo-2024-05-08-08-18-46.jpg

Я знаю: пройден путь разлуки и ненастья,
И тонут небеса в сирени голубой,
И тонет день в лучах, и тонет сердце в счастье…
Я знаю, я влюблен и рад бродить с тобой,

Да, я отдам себя твоей влюбленной власти
И власти синевы, простертой надо мной…
Сомкнув со взором взор и глядя в очи страсти,
Мы сядем на скамью в акации густой.

Да, обними меня чудесными руками…
Высокая трава везде вокруг тебя
Блестит лазурными живыми мотыльками…

Акация, чуть-чуть алмазами блестя,
Щекочет мне лицо сырыми лепестками…
Глубокий поцелуй… Ты — счастье… Ты — моя…

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/vmLjX3JX/photo-2024-05-15-11-08-51.jpg

Мой тихий сон, мой сон ежеминутный

Мой тихий сон, мой сон ежеминутный -
Невидимый, завороженный лес,
Где носится какой-то шорох смутный,
Как дивный шелест шелковых завес.

В безумных встречах и туманных спорах,
На перекрестке удивленных глаз
Невидимый и непонятный шорох,
Под пеплом вспыхнул и уже погас.

И как туманом одевает лица,
И слово замирает на устах,
И кажется - испуганная птица
Метнулась в вечереющих куста

[spartakbubnov]

There are aunts, like aunts,
There are uncles, like uncles,
There are people, like people,
There are whores, like whores,
But in life it sometimes happens differently:
There are uncles, like aunts, there are aunties, like uncles,
There are whores, like people, and people like whores!

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/4Nz63mRr/photo-2024-05-15-18-40-45.jpg

Встречаются, чтоб разлучаться…
Влюбляются, чтобы разлюбить…
Мне хочется расхохотаться,
И разрыдаться — и не жить!

Клянутся, чтоб нарушить клятвы…
Мечтают, чтоб клянуть мечты…
О, скорбь тому, кому понятны
Все наслаждения тщетны!..

В деревне хочется столицы…
В столице хочется глуши…
И всюду человечьи лица
Без человеческой души…

Как часто красота уродна
И есть в уродстве красота…
Как часто низость благородна
И злы невинные уста.

Так как же не расхохотаться,
Не разрыдаться, как же жить,
Когда возможно расставаться,
Когда возможно разлюбить?!

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/d3S73QvN/photo-2024-05-22-09-41-29.jpg

Если радует утро тебя,
Если в пышную веришь примету,—
Хоть на время, на миг полюбя,
Подари эту розу поэту.

Хоть полюбишь кого, хоть снесешь
Не одну ты житейскую грозу,—
Но в стихе умиленном найдешь
Эту вечно душистую розу.

Отправлено спустя 3 часа 40 минут 22 секунды:
https://i.postimg.cc/1zzqF0GX/photo-2024-05-22-13-20-43.jpg

Обойми, поцелуй,
Приголубь, приласкай,
Еще раз — поскорей —
Поцелуй горячей.
Что печально глядишь?
Что на сердце таишь?
Не тоскуй, не горюй,
Из очей слез не лей;
Мне не надобно их,
Мне не нужно тоски…
Не на смерть я иду,
Не хоронишь меня.
На полгода всего
Мы расстаться должны;
Есть за Волгой село
На крутом берегу:
Там отец мой живет,
Там родимая мать
Сына в гости зовет;
Я поеду к отцу,
Поклонюся родной
И согласье возьму
Обвенчаться с тобой.
Мучит душу мою
Твой печальный убор,
Для чего ты в него
Нарядила себя?
Разрядись: уберись
В свой наряд голубой
И на плечи накинь
Шаль с каймой расписной;
Пусть пылает лицо,
Как поутру заря,
Пусть сияет любовь
На устах у тебя;
Как мне мило теперь
Любоваться тобой!
Как весна, хороша
Ты, невеста моя!
Обойми ж, поцелуй,
Приголубь, приласкай,
Еще раз — поскорей —
Поцелуй горячей!

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/pV9f88wG/photo-2024-05-23-17-05-20.jpg

Тебе покорной? Ты сошел с ума!
Покорна я одной Господней воле.
Я не хочу ни трепета, ни боли,
Мне муж — палач, а дом его — тюрьма.
Но видишь ли! Ведь я пришла сама…
Декабрь рождался, ветры выли в поле,
И было так светло в твоей неволе,
А за окошком сторожила тьма.
Так птица о прозрачное стекло
Всем телом бьется в зимнее ненастье,
И кровь пятнает белое крыло.
Теперь во мне спокойствие и счастье.
Прощай, мой тихий, ты мне вечно мил
За то, что в дом свой странницу пустил.

[Venus]

One of my favorite poems. I don’t even know how many times I read it, listened to it... and continue...

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/26HNkBXb/photo-2024-05-27-13-37-19.jpg


Учите красоте друг друга –
И вам откроется любовь.
Пусть станет вашею заслугой
Её светящаяся новь.

Живите так, чтоб зазвучала
Она из сердца, сутью стала,
Чтоб ваша жизнь себя саму
Впредь от любви не отличала.

Отправлено спустя 19 часов 30 минут 21 секунду:
https://i.postimg.cc/y6bNt7kY/photo-2024-05-28-09-07-51.jpg

ожится сумрак голубой, -
В саду, под белою сиренью,
Хочу я встретиться с тобой.

Тоска любви!.. с какою силой
Она сжимает сердце мне,
Когда я слышу голос милый
В ночной унылой тишине!

Деревья дремлют… небо ясно…
Приди! - я жду тебя одна.
О, посмотри, как ночь прекрасна,
Как упоительна весна! -

Все полно неги сладострастья,
Неизъяснимой красоты…
И тихий вздох избытка счастья
Раскрыл весенние цветы.

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/bJC6zTv7/photo-2024-01-26-09-17-06.jpg

Я скажу тебе "доброе утро",
Проведу по щеке украдкой,
Улыбнувшись, шепну премудро,
Что ты спишь, как ребенок, сладко.

Заварю крепкий-крепкий кофе,
Принесу тебе шоколадку,
Расскажу, кто такой Иоффе,
А ты скажешь, что я психопатка.

Я добавлю с любовью нежной:
- Да, такая вот я загадка,
Но люблю я тебя безбрежно -
И в плечо поцелую кратко.

Я скажу тебе "доброе утро",
Проведу по щеке украдкой,
Целый мир тебе, недотрога,
Подарю в этот миг без остатка.

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/vmw6JZyk/photo-2024-06-06-08-44-00.jpg

Давайте, меняйте свой облик,
одежду, работу, жилище.
Наплюйте на глупые вопли,
обрящет сокровищ, кто ищет.

Давайте, меняйте наборы
желаний простых и не очень,
заполните эти просторы
всем тем, что вы любите точно.

[Rabbit]

...He eloquently asks for something,
With one hand he brings her a flower,
With the other he crumples a simple linen
And sneaks under the vestments hastily,
And a light finger touches playfully
To sweet secrets... Everything is a wonder for Maria,
Everything seems new and sophisticated to her.
And meanwhile a shameless blush
On the virgin cheeks began to play -
And the languid heat and the impatient sigh
Mary’s young breast lifted.
She is silent; but suddenly there was no more urine,
Barely breathing, she closed her languid eyes,
Bowing her head towards the evil one on her chest,
She cried out: ah!.. and fell on the grass...
A. S. Pushkin

[edgard.shuhard]

Wonderful...wonderful topic... Glad you exist... Such beautiful and warm people... With soul...

Underground there is a secret cave,
There are high tombs,
Fiery dreams of Lucifer,
Slender harlots wander there.
You will die ingloriously or with glory,
But he will come and look imperiously into your eyes
Death, a gloomy and bony old man,
A tedious and slow worker.
It will carry you through the corridors,
It will carry you from tower to tower.
With glass , with a bulging gaze,
You will understand that this is an everlasting dream.
And when, having fallen into your tomb,
You dream of a heavenly temple,
You will see before you a harlot
With sharp pearl teeth.
It will be sweet for her to touch you,
Kiss with endless malice.
You will not be able to move and scream...
That’s all. And it will last forever. N.S. Gumilev

[SeRg !$!]

https://i.postimg.cc/fLPZQRFm/photo-2024-06-07-08-31-03.jpg

Ярким солнцем, синей далью
В летний полдень любоваться —
Непонятною печалью
Дали солнечной терзаться…

Кто поймет, измерит оком,
Что за этой синей далью?
Лишь мечтанье о далёком
С непонятною печалью…

[