Poems that you liked.

Unread post by **Pierro** » 18 Jul 2023, 07:36

according to the requests of workers:

Who loves the laundress, who loves the marquise,
Everyone has their own dope, -
And I love the concierge Lisa,
nWe have an autumn romance.

Let Liza in the neighborhood have a reputation for being hard to touch, -
Love on display is funny!
But still secretly from her strict mother
She comes running more than once.

I take my mandolin off the wall,
I twirl my dashing mustache...
I gave her everything: the portrait of Little Queen
And a string of green beads.

Quietly, quietly, huddled together,
We gnaw on salted almonds.
The wind plays the November fugue for us,
Us the Russian shawl is warm.

And Lizin’s cat, sneaking behind her,
Walks around and sniffs the floor.
And suddenly, arching his neck mockingly,
nSits down on the table in front of us.

The fireplace cactus pulls its thorns towards us,
And the teapot grumbles like a bumblebee...
Lisa has wonderful warm hands
And in each eye there is a gazelle.

For us there is no longer the twentieth century,
And we do not feel sorry for the past:
We are two Robinsons, we are two people,
Quietly gnawing almonds.

But in the hallway the floorboards creaked,
The doors opened...
And Lisa leaves, lowering her eyelashes, Behind his strict mother.

Books are overturned on the old table,
A handkerchief lies on the floor.
Sticky figs are lying on the hat,
And the chair was overturned in the corner.

For clarity, after she left,
I still have to say,
That Lisa is three and a half years old...
Why do we need to hide the truth? (c)

1927 Sasha Cherny.

Sent after 1 hour 8 minutes 4 seconds:
GRAPE DOG

I told him so often: “goodbye”
that he already didn’t pay attention:
went silently to the kitchen, drank tea for a long time.
then sat down next to him, and on his lip there was a crumb of chicken.

feeling my hopelessness and anger with his skin,
his grape dog crawled, wriggling, to the sofa.
licked his fingers -
torment in his amber eyes.

However short it was, we all said goodbye seriously.
I remember a grape dog flashed in the doorway -
White as smoke,
covered with inky blue berries.

Where is he now? in whose stormy fate
does the most tender kurabye bark at the clouds?
does it often crawl, wriggling, to lick other people’s fingers -
torment in amber eyes.

(c) Chernyshova Sveta

Unread post by **Your hand 1999** » 18 Jul 2023, 08:47

You can’t call it a poem, but I liked it:

Where to? Where did you go?
We went to take a shit - and failed!

Unread post by **Mancuso** » 18 Jul 2023, 09:38

Sasha Cherny is beyond competition after all...

Unread post by **Pierro** » 18 Jul 2023, 09:51

Mancuso, modernity requires its authors.. poetry must change along with time...

Unread post by **Mancuso** » 18 Jul 2023, 10:28

That’s how it is, I don’t argue. "Each time has its own orders..." I have nothing against something new if it is of high quality. As for modern times, so many works are still relevant today...

Unread post by **Pierro** » 20 Jul 2023, 10:13

Late at night, on an empty tram -
New Year’s toy litter.
The beauty with a mourning mouth
The gaze is somehow angelically cold.
A drunken friend whispers to me: “The man
Abandoned her? Well? Nothing -
In a moment, in an hour, in a century
And she will forget him.”
When I wake up, I will say: “Maybe
A husband for a blouse didn’t give me any money...”
And then I won’t be able to forget,
Remembering the gentle maiden of sadness.
How, under these wrinkles on the lips
Substituting my misfortune,
I am outwardly windy and rude—
And I love and pity her.

(c) B. Ryzhiy 1995

Unread post by **Lisa24** » 25 Jul 2023, 07:45

On the road of yellow stones
To eternity.
Maybe you will give me too
Tenderness.
When I leave, I will leave with you
Heart.
I will return even if I enter into mortal combat
Trust me.
You will see me through. On the threshold you will cry
Again.
My thoughts silently rush to you -
Owls.
I will leave, but you will remain mine forever
Part of me.
I don’t know, but maybe this is what it is -
Happiness.©net

Unread post by **Helga** » 25 Jul 2023, 08:55

THE LION’S BRIDE

The priest decided. The people, who agreed
With him, slaughtered my mother:
The lion of the desert, the beautiful god,
Waiting for me in the steppe paradise.

I don’t I’m scared, will I hide
From the threatening enemy?
I put on a scarlet belt,
Amber and pearls.

So in the desert I cry :
"Sun-beast, I’ve been waiting,
Come and torment your prey
Human prey, prince!

Let me tremble in heavy paws ,
To fall and not rise again,
Let me hear a strange smell,
Tart, drunk, like love".

Like smoking, the herbs smell,
Like a bride, I am quiet,
Above me is the bloody gaze
of the golden groom.

Nikolai Gumilyov,

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 25 Jul 2023, 09:05

I will continue the Shakespeare quotation I started with this sonnet:

If you stop loving, so now,
Now that the whole world is at odds with me.
Be the most bitter from my losses,
But not the last drop of grief!
And if grief is given to me to overcome,
Do not strike from an ambush.
Let the stormy night not be resolved
On a rainy morning - a morning without joy.
Leave me, but not at the last moment,
When I weaken from small troubles.
Leave me now, so that I can immediately comprehend,
That this grief is more painful than all adversities,

That there are no adversities, but there is one misfortune -
Your love will be lost forever.

Sent after 20 hours 55 seconds:
I began to like being silent,
Don’t argue with anyone, don’t swear,
Watch the sky more often,
Don’t get carried away with trifles .

I began to like to keep
Peace and tenderness in my soul,
And cherish every moment,
Where vanity is the enemy, serenity.

I began to like to appreciate
What I am rich in in the world,
To love the world around me,
I am not guilty of anything at all.

I began to like shining,
giving warmth and smiling.
Someone can’t understand me,
But is it really worth being upset?

[

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 28 Jul 2023, 03:08

I kept thinking about him
And fell into an unexpected slumber.
And then I saw him.
Oh, if only I could realize that this was a dream, -
Would I have woken up?!

— Ono no Komachi
https://i.postimg.cc/Y0K7B553/photo-5339195200414797819-y.jpg

Unread post by **|_rarely_|** » 28 Jul 2023, 03:35

Either gray leaves in the cold twilight of the night
It’s either snow, or rain, or it’s just a miracle
Fate has broken down and doesn’t want to work out
And laughs at us - “it’s all useless” , stop!

If you did not appreciate the vastness of the hands of your loved ones
And the warmth on the bed, and the poems on the envelope
If you forgot that there is tenderness in the world...
You yourself wanted it, you wanted it, believe me

You wanted freedom, absolute freedom
But it doesn’t happen without heavy retribution
The gold was exchanged you can’t put together a handful of copper from the fragments that once broke

The silver of the moonlit night rolled into the darkness
And bad weather hung over the world these days....
There is no such thing in the world, no matter how much we would like,
Absolute and easy freedom from each other

Unread post by **Bully Carrie** » 28 Jul 2023, 03:39

Sonnet 66, translated by Marshak

I call death. I cannot bear to see
Dignity that begs for alms,
A mocking lie at simplicity,
Nothingness in luxurious attire,

And a false sentence to perfection,
And virginity, rudely abused,
And shame on inappropriate honor,
And power in captivity in toothless weakness

And straightforwardness, which is considered stupidity ,
And stupidity in the mask of a sage, a prophet,
And a clamped mouth of inspiration,
And righteousness in the service of vice.

Everything is disgusting, what I see around,
But how can I leave you, dear friend!

Unread post by **Bully Carrie** » 28 Jul 2023, 03:44

And also the 116th sonnet))

I don’t intend to interfere with the connection of two hearts
. Can betrayal
Immeasurable love be put to an end?
Love knows no decline and decay.

Love is a beacon raised above the storm,
Not fading in darkness and fog.
Love is the star with which a sailor
Determines a place in the ocean.

Love is not a pathetic doll in the hands
U of time, erasing roses
On fiery lips and on cheeks,
And time’s threats are not afraid of her.

And if I’m wrong and my verse lies,
There is no love - and there are no poems of mine!

Unread post by **Pierro** » 28 Jul 2023, 08:11

Before I crashed on a tractor,
shot myself, or drowned in the river,
the forester came to get a hangover,
brought me cherries in his fist.

With a glass drinking alcohol, my mother came out
less beautiful than in the dream.
She left again, washed the cherries
and brought it to me on a saucer.

Having hung up the bandolier in the corridor,
my father brought from afar
blue lakes with reeds,
white clouds in the lakes.

Because everyone loved me,
the trees were silent until the morning.
“They gave the girl a bear,” -
my sister read to me before going to bed.

They gave the boy half the sky,
the darkness of the fir trees, the gold of the birches.
At dawn a loon was shot.
And the forester brought three cherries.

There was a lot of morning light,
water fell from the roof into my hands,
it was autumn, and summer
I never remember.

B.Ryzhiy 1999

Unread post by **Phantom** » 28 Jul 2023, 08:30

Among the worlds, in the twinkling of the stars
I repeat the name of One Star...
Not because I love her,
But because I languish with others.

And if doubt is hard for me,
I look to Her alone for an answer,
Not because it is light from Her,
n But because with Her there is no need for light.

I.F. Annensky.

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 02 Aug 2023, 05:28

Come.
I want to kiss you today
For a long, long time. Slowly. And also -
Quietly, looking into the eyes, say words
That then make you feel anxious and passionate.

Come. Let’s make some tea, pour some wine -
Bodka-whiskey - what are you drinking today?
Come - and to hell with countries and times -
Sun-snow-cold this rain...

Hy, what’s the difference - what is it - April - February? -
Bear-evening-eternity-sunset-surf...
I feel sorry for the tears, the stupid hysterics
Every moment - killed - lived - not with you...
n
I want you today... My God! -
I can’t talk to you about everyday life and simplicity...
Please come, just stay with me.
And I don’t care what happens to me later.

Sent after 21 hours 38 minutes 9 seconds:
So many of those , with whom you can go to bed,
How few are those with whom you want to wake up
And in the morning, parting, smile,
And wave your hand, and smile,
And all day, worrying, waiting for news.
There are so many people with whom you can simply live,
Drink coffee in the morning, talk and argue
With whom you can go on vacation at sea,
And, as it should be - both in joy and in sorrow
To be close... But at the same time not to love
How few are those with whom you want to dream!
Watch the clouds swarm in the sky,
Write words of love on the first snow,
And think only about this person
And not know or desire more happiness.
How few are those with whom you can be silent,
Who understands from half a word, from half a glance,
Who doesn’t mind giving year after year,
And who are you for? You can, as a reward,
Accept any pain, any execution...
This is how this gimmick winds its way -
They meet easily, they part without pain
That’s because that there are many people with whom you can go to bed.
All because there are few people with whom you want to wake up...
https://i.postimg.cc/TwbxBTqm/msg-1752090075-2568.jpg

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 04 Aug 2023, 04:14

and meanwhile it’s already August

Sideways, sideways, diagonally,
almost without a trace
passed like a boat in the sand
summer has ended.

A random note on a string,
barely touched,
and on a starry night, August
told me about this.

It is still dawn at six in the morning,
but weightlessly
and powerfully a new time
approaches the house.

And he is no longer waiting for easy words,
not breaths,
but mature thoughts, cold weather
and revelations...

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 07 Aug 2023, 08:40

Me and You, There Are Only Two of Us?
Oh, what Self-Deception.
With Us Walls, Sconces, Wallpaper,
Night, Champagne, Sofa...
With With Us There is Silence in the Apartment
And there are Drops outside the Windows,
With Us Everything that is in This World
Sank to the Bed...
We are only Points of the Universe,
Someone’s Fine Carving,
Our Heyday and Decay
Called Fate...
We Breathe into Each Other’s Face,
The Clock Strikes the Midnight Hour ,
And Someone Above Us
Everything Was Decided For Us A Long Time ago...
https://i.postimg.cc/Z5tGnMJp/photo-2023-08-07-17-55-54.jpg

Отправлено спустя 14 часов 26 минут 37 секунд:
немного хокку

…жене букет подарил.
В итоге, весь вечер и утро
Пришлось ей в верности клясться
https://i.postimg.cc/wvvhNsNL/photo-2023-08-08-09-05-19.jpg

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 11 Aug 2023, 06:14

I will fall into your bottomless world,
I am in the labyrinth of your dreams -
There are no doors, but there are balconies,
Here are the bindings of old books.

I smell mint
And the delicate aroma of flowers.
You will throw on your funny robe,
With a pattern of tiny cats,

And you will go out to balcony furtively,
And I stand with my back to you...
From afar you will purr sweetly -
And call me with you...

n
https://i.postimg.cc/DwZyQ8Hb/photo-2023-03-13-17-37-28.jpg

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 14 Aug 2023, 01:14

Control yourself among the confused crowd,
Cursing you for the confusion of everyone,
Believe in yourself, in defiance of the universe,
And forgive those of little faith their sin;
Let the hour not strike - wait without getting tired,
Let liars lie - do not condescend to them;
Know how to forgive and do not seem, by forgiving,
More generous and wiser than others.

Know how to dream without becoming a slave to dreams,
And think without deifying thoughts;
Equally meet success and reproach,
Not forgetting that their voice is false;
Remain quiet when your own word
Cripples the rogue to catch the fools
When your whole life is destroyed and again
You must recreate everything from the basics.
n
Know how to put, in joyful hope,
On the line everything that you have accumulated with difficulty,
To lose everything and become a beggar, as before,
And never regret about
Be able to force your heart, nerves, body
To serve you when in your chest
Everything has been empty for a long time, everything has burned down
And only the Will says: "Go!"

Stay simple when talking with kings,
Stay honest when speaking to the crowd;
Be straight and firm with enemies and friends,
Let everyone, in their own time, consider you;
Fill every moment with meaning,
The elusive rush of hours and days, -
Then you will take possession of the whole world,
Then, my son, you will be a Man!

Rudyard Kipling

Unread post by **Whisperer** » 14 Aug 2023, 01:26

Smile at a girl on the subway.
Perhaps her day is ruined,
And a smile is like a ticket to Sochi
Or a whole bucket of apples.

Smile to a girl in the subway.
And a smile will drive away all the melancholy
In this stuffy, rushing carriage,
Full like a coastal bistro.

Smile to a girl in metro.
Smile, come on, smile!
And let the threads lie between you,
Hundreds of threads of fictional paths.

Smile at the girl in metro.
Whether it’s for her or anyone else.
Smile at least for the whole car!
Even at a huge metro station.

Even if the feather is broken,
If your world collapsed overnight,
Give happiness to those around you -
Smile at a girl on the subway.
https://i.postimg.cc/KYx0ry63/543821.jpg

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 14 Aug 2023, 03:06

There is a cherished trait in the closeness of people,
It cannot be crossed by love and passion, -
Let lips merge in eerie silence
And the heart is torn apart by love.

And friendship is powerless here, and years of
High and fiery happiness,
When the soul is free and alien to
The slow languor of voluptuousness.

Those who strive for it are mad, and those who achieve it
Those who achieve it are stricken with melancholy...
Now you understand why my
heart does not beat, under
your hand.

https://i.postimg.cc/DwZFwvpv/photo-2023-08-08-08-54-44.jpg

Отправлено спустя 22 часа 47 минут 57 секунд:
О, я хочу безумно жить:
Всё сущее — увековечить,
Безличное — вочеловечить,
Несбывшееся — воплотить!
Пусть душит жизни сон тяжелый,
Пусть задыхаюсь в этом сне, —
Быть может, юноша веселый
В грядущем скажет обо мне:
Простим угрюмство — разве это
Сокрытый двигатель его?
Он весь — дитя добра и света,
Он весь — свободы торжество!

https://i.postimg.cc/PxxT31H0/photo-2023-08-14-15-02-11.jpg

Unread post by **Helga** » 15 Aug 2023, 02:08

SeRg !$!,
Image beautiful!

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 21 Aug 2023, 05:53

Everything dies on land and in the sea,
But man is more severely condemned:
He must know about the death sentence
Signed when he was born.

But, aware of the transience of life,
He lives like this - in spite of everything,
As if he plans to live for eternity
And this world belongs to him.

Unread post by **The passage** » 21 Aug 2023, 06:08

We hate very often,
and more and more often for no reason.
We find new grievances,
wrinkles on our faces.

We hate those who are too smart ,
foolish people awaken anger in us,
mannered, pretentiously cultured,
those whose maternity hospital is called a stable.

The brute who eats in three throats,
and at the same time slender as a reed.
The poor fellow, whose breath was stolen,
he barely saw the horizontal bar.

We hate those who believes
in the wrong way, in the wrong way, or at all
doesn’t believe, but without measure
teaches us the logic of things.

We we hate, maybe that’s enough?
Loving let’s live better,
in the age of stupid phobias and apathy
let’s curb our anger.

(with ) Andrey Shalay

Unread post by **rasaroam** » 21 Aug 2023, 06:53

When blow meets blows,
And above me the fatal
The tireless pendulum swings
And wants to be my destiny,

It is in a hurry and stops rudely ,
And the spindle falls -
And it is impossible to meet, to agree,
And it is not possible to evade.

Sharp patterns are intertwined,
And faster and faster,
The poisoned darts soar
In the hands of brave savages;

And the orderly string is carried away
With autumn trepidation, and suddenly -
I came to my senses and asked straight to my heart
An arrow, describing a circle.

(c)
Osip Mandelstam
n1910.

Unread post by **The passage** » 21 Aug 2023, 07:00

Thanks to everyone who interferes with us,
Who deliberately harms us,
Who destroys our plans,
And strives to offend us!

Oh, If only these people
Could understand what role
They play in our destinies,
Causing us this pain!

Soul, not who knew losses,
A soul that knew no insults,
How will happiness in life be measured?
What will the joy of forgiveness be compared with?

Well, how to grow wiser and develop
Without these good evil people?
From the obstacles they created
Thousands of ideas will arise

Filled with goodness and light
And I will repeat to them a hundred times:
THANK YOU for everything for THIS,
Well, what would we do without YOU?!

(C) Natalia Drozdova

Unread post by **Flex** » 21 Aug 2023, 10:38

Poems about the Soviet passport, author Mayakovsky

Unread post by **The passage** » 21 Aug 2023, 10:43

Don’t forbid yourself to dream –
Even if not in color, even in black and white;
May you be open to the winds and arrows –
Remove the lock, break the seal!

Don’t forbid yourself to create,
Let it sometimes come out crooked -
Your ridiculous motives
No one can repeat it.

nDo not pick off your flowers,
Let them grow in wild freedom
With silence, song or scream
Among the boundless emptiness.

Do not forbid yourself to fly,
Don’t remember that you are not a bird:
You are not one of those for whom it is easier to break
It is much easier than to rise.

Don’t forbid yourself to love,
You don’t need to be afraid of your feelings:
Love cannot make mistakes
And it can redeem everything.

Don’t save the rays of a star –
Throw to the right and to the left,
And these strange crops

They will give wonderful fruits.

Don’t be afraid to live, don’t be afraid to sing ,
Don’t say that you can’t:
You won’t regret anything –
Let there be nothing to regret!

And don’t be shy to win:
Fate will heal your enemies,
And maybe other meetings
They will still be waiting for you.

Don’t be afraid to sprout in stone ,
Putting your shoulders under the firmament.
Even if it is sometimes easier without a dream -
Don’t forbid yourself to dream!

(c) Luiza Mindullina (Erizn)

Unread post by **rasaroam** » 21 Aug 2023, 10:51

Flex: ↑21 Aug 2023, 10:38 Poems about the Soviet passport, author Mayakovsky

Well, if we start about political poems, then, please!
(Read to the last line! The meaning changes radically!

)

Ah, what a power it was!
Ah, what kind of people there were in it!
How solemnly majestic
The sounds of the anthem floated over the world!

Oh, how the faces were open,
How views filled with light!
How beautiful the capital was!
How majestic the parades are!

Proceeding in a triumphal march,
Impeccably beautiful formation,
The youth swore allegiance to the elders
Battle-hardened heroes -

Not hustlers and scoundrels
They became our idols...
For in people lived - an idea!
The thirst to be at the forefront of the world!

What was so evil
That we firmly understood
What “comrade” is not just a word,
And does this word sound proudly?

In the fact that they were one people
Strongly welded together by a common faith,
That virtues are not income
And they were measured by another measure?

The fact that vulgarities for consumption
Art was not drowned in the mud?
What attracted the boys to the sky?
What did the girls have feelings?

Oh, how much nastier everything is these days,
Worse, lower and even less common:
Even if the melody of the anthem is the same,
But where is the impulse and idea?

And the most unbearable grief
In the impossibility of reconciliation
Not with the loss of territories,
But with the loss of generations!

No matter how puffed up these faces are,
Is there room for hope with them?
nOh, how different all this is
To the country that we knew before!

That it was young, winged,
It multiplied its strength year after year,
Where the people respected the soldier
And the soldier was proud of the people.

Where the distances were bright,
Where the open spaces were clear...
And what a movie they made
Our best directors!

And what songs they rang!
How they made your shoulders straighten!
How they made your shoulders stand! we walked together
Early in the morning towards the dawn!

These songs are about the main things in life:
About freedom, dreams, flight,
O love for our dear fatherland,
About work, which is always held in high esteem,

And about girls, that the flowers
Bloom under the May sun,
And about our mother waiting for us at home,
And about the land we have known since childhood,

And about honor , and about courage
And about a faithful, reliable friend
And the flags glowed above us...
With a BLACK SWASTIKA IN A WHITE CIRCLE.

(c)
(Yuri Nesterenko)
https://soulibre.ru/%D0%90%D1%85,_% D0%B ... %BA%D0%BE)

Unread post by **Flex** » 21 Aug 2023, 11:02

Who likes what, everyone has different tastes
I have from Pushkin to Mayakovsky

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 22 Aug 2023, 00:27

There are no unloved women,
There are unmet ones...
Someone passes by,
If only I could sit next to you.
If only I could say a word,
And change everything.
The former Light of lightning,
Lighten up like a film.
There are no unloved women.
And everyone is right.
Like pearls in a shell,
Love is alive in the soul.
Everything in the world can be fixed
Just do the honor...
There are no unloved women,
As long as there are men.

https://i.postimg.cc/brVQ8FcS/photo-2023-08-22-09-13-58.jpg

Unread post by **Bully Carrie** » 22 Aug 2023, 00:53

Rasrom, Wow! It turns out that not only do we have the same tastes. Osip Emilievich is a damn genius)

Unread post by **The passage** » 22 Aug 2023, 01:25

we play at being insanely strong,
that’s why we can only be cruel.
nightly beeps on our mobile phones,
there are billions of us. we are all alone.
we warm our gloved palms,
we go again to the end.
the songs have left imprints on us.
and it seems like it will last forever.
forever.

we are used to hearing only music
to forget about the losses.
one day we will conquer all the rooftops
dank London.
do you believe?

September has drunk us to the dregs,
the leaves are entangled in the feathers.
among the graying trees
autumn dances alone.
autumn dances and whispers:
"Don’t leave me,
don’t leave me..."
downpours are lashing the sidewalks again,
don’ t leave me, hold me tight.

the evening opened its doors
playing viscous jazz.
we believe in the best, we believe.
njust
not this
time.

(c) Ok Melnikova.

Unread post by **rasaroam** » 22 Aug 2023, 01:37

Hooligan Carrie: ↑22 Aug 2023, 00:53 Rasrom , Wow! It turns out that not only do we have the same tastes. Osip Emilievich is a damn genius)

When I was little, my mother had 2 samizdat books of poetry: Gumilev and Mandelstam.
I used them Been reading since I was 6

Unread post by **The passage** » 22 Aug 2023, 06:40

Thoughts under our ribs burst into burning explosions,
looks wander over the white wall.
we are told: “Why are you prickly?
—these are knives and fragments in your back.”
n
they tell us: “are your wrists covered in ink?
It’s you, apparently, just out of spite.
—they write poetry, alas, not out of happiness,
“we were just unlucky one day.”

measure with steps all the coldness of the floor,
measure with words all the coldness of people.
souls were exchanged for the spirit of rock and roll,
souls were exchanged for a bunch of ideas.

night, trains, lanterns or headlights,
morning tea and the road for breakfast.
believing in a dream , rock and roll and guitars,
how someone believes in themselves or in God.

let them say that tattoos are vulgar,
Rock has been dead for a long time, it’s time for us to go to him.
children of the damned drunken past,
it is difficult for us to survive just one by one.

let passers-by twist their fingers at our temples,
gossip will pick us apart.
mommy, sorry, we are not like you.
mommy, sorry, but we are so fuckin’ good.

(c) Ok Melnikova

Unread post by **rasaroam** » 22 Aug 2023, 07:05

I’ll drop my body into the chair,
I’ll block the light with my hands
And I’ll cry for a long, long time,
Remembering the evenings
When “yesterday” didn’t torment me
And the chains of debt did not torment you;

And a cape crashing into the sea,
And a lonely cypress,
And the supportive Hussein,
And his slow story,
nIn the hours when the eye does not see
Neither cypress nor pool.

And Baghdad reigns again,
And Sinbad wanders again,
Enters with demons in a quarrel,
And from the Egyptian land
Ships leave again
To the magnificent Bassora.

The merchants receive both profit and honor.
But no; it is not profit that attracts them
In the naked steppes, above the abyss of water;
O secret of secrets, oh bird of Rock,
Isn’t your distant island
Was it a guiding star?

You led sailors
Into the caves of genies and wolves,
Keeping an ancient grudge,
And to hanging bridges
Through the dark -red bushes
To a feast with Harun al-Rashid.

And I was once yours,
I sailed, a humble pilgrim,
For a blissful and peaceful life,
So that Hussein would meet me
In the gardens, where there are roses and a swimming pool,
On the shore behind old Smyrna.

When... God, how pure
And how painful dreams are!
Well, wound your heart, wound me, -
I’ll drop my body in a chair,
nI will block the light with my hands
And I will cry for the Levant.

(c)
Nikolai Gumilyov

Unread post by **Helga** » 22 Aug 2023, 07:27

I am the one for whom "everything is fine".
And even when the pain eats away
And you just want to bury yourself in your shoulder
But, only there is no shoulder nearby.

I am the one they always talk about
Those people who don’t know at all.
How many are the wounds that hurt at night
nOnly they see the smile that covers them.

I am the one from the category of “I can do everything myself”
And the one who will never seem weak.
nAnd there are people nearby, but in life, alone,
And I want to become the one for someone.

And I just want to bury myself in the shoulder,
So as not to hide your tears when you are lonely.
So that someone notices that "everything is fine",
So often hides how bad everything is.

Unread post by **Mancuso** » 22 Aug 2023, 07:34

Alexander Bashlachev

Nothing happened

I’m tired today. Today I became obedient.
But there is no need for indifferent and boring praise
And your idle mercy is not worth the effort.
What is wrong with me? Nonsense... Nothing happened...
The chains of a long sleep are unbreakable and strong.
And in the square of the window night gives way to night.
In this slow sleep my only reward
All those lying down the stones are dried up truth.
The fire is smoldering slowly... Finally I am calm.
I erased the dust of my hopes with a cold hand.
And I fell asleep until the morning. And the next morning I dreamed that
Everything that happened yesterday did not happen to me.

Unread post by **Helga** » 22 Aug 2023, 07:39

Mancuso,
Bashlachev. Thanks for reminding me of him.

Unread post by **rasaroam** » 22 Aug 2023, 22:28

Well, now a little civil poetry...

"More about colors"

(Dmitry Bykov,
2016 year).

Stop being naive, you are scientists.
Lots of examples - from us to Chile.
That after the gray ones come the black ones -
this is not news, you were taught.

This quote is so iconic...
Here are the Strugatskys, go hard!
You might think that after Putin
Mahatma Gandhi might emerge.

No! After a long degeneration
we will rust, we will turn red...
There are different pleasures -
there is the pleasure of decomposition.

Yes, after the gray ones come the black ones,
we deserve them by being fined.
Passionary, enthusiastic -
there is hope for them, wrote Cavafy.

In general, history is an insidious thing,
It’s not in vain that I’m ruining your mood.
Not just “we were expecting a barbarian” -
no, we were preparing the ground for him,

purposefully degrading,
striving into faceless ideality,
dumb, so that not a single reptile
stands out against this background...

Now satisfied, impartial,
they will whisper in the poses of their submissive:
would it be better if they were red?
Oh yes! Somehow better than black.

But here, from the north to the Caspian Sea,
wherever you cast your confused gaze,
all the red ones have reliably degenerated
into such brown ones, whatever.

Ask the doomed man,
no longer just bitter,
as if filled with hemlock:
what will he offer, besides black?
He himself is turning black with every second.

There is a course of history, it cannot be cured,
there is no series of rewards waiting for us at the end.
Why do I, in general, love the Fatherland?
For everything, but more so for clarity.

First - the imperials, then - the nomads;
first - the Sylvesters, then the guardsmen...
All this was in any textbook,
but only excellent students read them!

Who would like the example of Europe,
the howl of a possessed patriot?
Now we will comprehend everything from experience,
and become experience for someone.

And if the soil has long been oxidized,
and the very air is poisoned with gray, -
any life is still meaningful,
serving as a bad example for neighbors.

But even if all that remains of our dear Motherland
is already skin and bones,
you keep waiting - we are not all Volodins here! —
When it ends, what happens after?

There are already bold conversations going on,
their liberal Judas is leading,
that after the blacks there will come whites,
all snow-white - but from where?

On the right flank, on the left flank -
the grin of a hungry troglodyte.
In heaven, of course, there are all angels,
but just go and get to heaven!

Others will say with naive faith -
they have not seen stagnation -
that after Black the matrix will return to gray
the matrix. But hardly.

Others, fresh and brave,
not knowing the taste of salty life,
here they see the ghost of an orange spring,
but I rather see green melancholy.

All the colors of the spectrum do not please me,
this is not at all what we wanted, -
but how could it be otherwise? After all, even a rainbow is only a symbol of LGBT people today.

And I, unlike Cavafy,
a singer of metaphor, not fact,
I look at this matter without pathos.
It’s no longer scary, but somehow embarrassing.

We are all in failure, with children and wives -
fighters, colleagues, singers, cripples,
and after the black ones there will be yellow ones.
I’m afraid for a long time. Forever, I’m afraid.

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 22 Aug 2023, 23:23

We are born; we inhale greedily
Nature’s powerful gifts;
It seems to us that it is breathing mercilessly
Life brought into the worlds.

What is our life? An unexpected impulse?
A random fruit of its creator?
Child of fragrant worlds,
A fragment of the highest crown?

Oh, no! The measure of a burning life
It is not for us to know and unravel.
It is worthy of the best faith,
The seal of its creator is on us.
Years pass into infinity,

Grants new ones from the Creator.
Always, everywhere—living eternity—
One beginning and one end.

Alexander Blok

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 25 Aug 2023, 05:51

If you are my enemy -
Who is my friend then?
The Earth is spinning,
Like a potter’s wheel.

Tormented and furious,
God makes
Card solitaire
From human roads.

He looks, eccentric,
Into millions of schemes -
nWhat, when and how,
Where, to whom and with whom.

I mixed up the year,
I mixed up the century, -
And the wrong one for you
A man fell out!..

It’s not my fault.
It’s not his fault.
And for all three –
Narrow Arbat.

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 31 Aug 2023, 02:22

We rush about: - work... life... affairs...
Whoever wants to hear must still listen...
And while running, you will only notice the bodies...
Stop...to see the soul.

https://i.postimg.cc/Hx05KQ00/photo-2023-08-31-12-18-24.jpg

Unread post by **rasaroam** » 31 Aug 2023, 02:43

I warn you: girls and women, do not be offended! This is a joke

Women wear stockings and tights,
And are indifferent to cultural issues .
Twenty percent of them are idiots,
Thirty percent are complete fools.

Forty percent of them are psychopaths,
That’s all we need gives ninety.
We have ten percent left,
And from these it is not easy to choose

(c)
( Igor Irtenev)

Unread post by **The passage** » 31 Aug 2023, 04:47

There are grains of salt in fresh wounds.
At night I dream of ears of rye.
I have never been afraid of pain -
Only lies.

Index of Eternity on the envelope.
Two gypsies in a dashing cart.
I didn’t wish death on anyone.
Only for myself.

Exhausted, I dozed off
nIn the fingers of the Lord. Fractional syllable,
I ask heaven for so little...
Yes, you.

(c) Vera Polozkova

Unread post by **|_rarely_|** » 31 Aug 2023, 20:55

You were looking for me in the unknown life before last,
Recognizing my home at the crossroads of empty cities.
Our years passed by endless days and came out,
Leaving no traces on the paving stones of minor modes.

I am writing you a letter, and under each line there are chords,
I will paste it in the back of the evening newspapers,
You will read it, and maybe this world is unreasonably hard
He will smile and suddenly let us take off on the same runway.

I will open my whole heart to you like the door of a biplane,
You in fishnet stockings will slide off the cover of "Playboy" ,
And to the rhymes of Basho we will fly under the sky of nirvana,
And laughing carelessly, and immensely admiring ourselves.

(c) P. Kashin

Unread post by **Pierro** » 01 Sep 2023, 12:33

Dear editors! I’m not married, I’m almost eighteen years old, I’m a rather interesting blonde of partly Scandinavian origin,
And I’ve known a guy for a long time who has relatives from a very noble family - he assures me, even higher than the count’s;
My waist circumference is twenty-five inches, the volume above the waist is thirty-five,
And I can’t figure out what to do, and so I decided to write to you.
He is terribly educated and loves reason, and of course you could be patient and not whine -
They say that men of this type fall in love with their wife after marriage;
But I’m still waiting
When he dares,
And he, unfortunately,
Doesn’t moo, doesn’t calve!
I’m going crazy with how worried I am and I’m trying my best to entertain him - I don’t break down, I sing (by the way, I have a mezzo- soprano)
And I think he’s about to make up his mind, - and he sighs and gets up from the sofa.
I’m trying to be nice and kind to him, but he’s talking utter nonsense:
nHe starts talking to himself, and then to someone else who is not here.
And then, I am terribly afraid of mice and rats, and he either has rats on his mind, or mousetraps,
nAnd there’s no need to worry about me - he’s more worried about his mother, about my, you know, future mother-in-law,
And he also brought in his own uncle to his mother, who allegedly fooled her, and how she just succumbed to it,
And how can I not see that this is outrageous, that they have this most... bloody connection.
And I say - don’t get me wrong, people will still live as they like, no matter what you ask, no matter what threaten, even if there is rot in prison:
We have our own quirks, and they have theirs.
And he pays zero attention to my words - he has a disorder in his brain based on conscience, downright mental distortion:
Always looking for two answers to every question.
I believe that for a guy a girl is a girl, if he is, of course, a decent person and not some kind of bohemian,
And with mine it turns out to be a continuous talking shop - for him I am not a girl, but only a problem.
A real man must act decisively, go ahead, take the bull by the horns,
And here it turns out neither fish nor fowl, nor a candle to God line of the poker.
I can’t find a solution on my own, even if I search all day long,
And I ask you for advice and help.
This is where I end, dear editors, I’m waiting for an answer, like a nightingale of summer, but for now I’ll go for a walk to the river, I’ll pick some prettier flowers - in fact, I like rosemary and violets, but in a pinch, camellia will do.

With respect to you
Ophelia.

(c) Ogden Nash

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 04 Sep 2023, 22:57

It’s not hard to exist.
Living is the simplest thing.
The sun shone and rose
And warmth went through the body.

All eternity is with me today ,
The whole expanse of heaven is without a veil,
God’s world has just begun,
There was no trace of it.

Life and immortality are one.
Be grateful to external forces
For the love wine,
Running like fire through your veins.

Boris Pasternak

Unread post by **SeRg !$!** » 06 Sep 2023, 04:59

Poetry is above vanity.
It descends from heaven into our souls.
It is the “genius of pure beauty”
It is the echo of troubles – past and future.

What a pity that in our unenlightened age
Poems are gathering dust on the shelves of the Motherland.
And life now runs so fast,
That it has no time to amuse itself with words.

Poetry is above vanity.
It is subject to conscience and God.
And even those who are on first name terms with the Muse
They will not be able to feel it otherwise .

I feel good when we are alone with her.
She is kind and frank with me.
Perhaps this is what we live for,
To remain faithful to someone.

(c) Andrey Dementyev

Poems that you liked.

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