I visited a bright thought last night, and the post was written because I took myself “for weak”. This took the strength, of course, slightly more than the usual record, but that was worth it. This post now is my personal reason for pride. Well, again – experimenting with the content of the blog.
… read aloud, albeit quietly. Seriously, it’s more convenient.
I don’t know how to start. Probably "Hello",
And sorry for the shameful post.
In general, I’m not quite on this part,
And the syllable risks being too simple.
I’m not writing in my manner,
But it will be more convenient for you to read:
After all, this Message is the ultimate goal
There is a tour of poets and poetry.
No, not for all, but only by the fact that it is closer
Specifically to me, as the author of the post.
I hope I will not offend anyone here,
But there is objectivity in other places.
I live in Paris like a dandy,
I have women up to a hundred!
My cock is like a plot in a legend
He goes from mouth to mouth ..
// Yes, to such punch, any modern reper is aligned.
Mayakovsky
– funny. And even, perhaps, more.
I am all his matches
crazy
I learned by heart – mix passers -by.
And on their smiling faces
look,
Thinking about that,
That laugh, because
that Volodya
Maybe
if necessary, throw a word.
But in general, I love much more
Mayakovsky
About love.
No Lenin, *uya, communism and drunk bl *Dean.
And in the lyrics this closet
He begins to be shy like
boy.
Having gathered a little courage
He blushed. He is sincere. Means
Not impudent
He is a suit,
Not sharp,
And not at all catchy
The rhymes are ingenious
Master
Thin
Vladimir Mayakovsky.
Here we cross the bridge Kakushkin,
Opperving the ass of granite,
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin himself
With Monsieur Onegin stands.
Without a glance
The stronghold of the power is fatal,
He became proudly back to the fortress:
Do not spit in a well, my dear!
>> No, seriously. He wrote it himself.
I don’t know anything dearer,
Than schoolchildren for the fifth year,
Talent and genius
And wait for someone to understand.
Only pushed out of childhood stupidly:
"Oh Sasha Pushkin, our everything",
Child, even to the institute
This does not grow up to this thought.
He is with a rhyme, after all, as God plays,
And leaves on paper
Your easy mark,
As if not at all
Nothing here,
And very usual verse.
Although in fact he is full of everything
And Pushkin is perfect, canonical.
But the main trouble is the poet in that,
That in idealness he is infinitely bored,
Rocker he is completely devoid,
And humanity to the gods is released.
My song was devoid of motive,
https://21grandcasino.co.uk/mobile-app/ />But not to sing it in chorus. Not marvelous,
What as a reward for me for such speeches
No one puts on his feet on the shoulders.
He is probably the most catchy – Brodsky.
Because he writes poetry that they seem to be prose.
Because he is smart endlessly and died recently.
How is it easier to write Yesenin. How is he strange.
I will never know, iambic or, rather, chore.
And to count the stress, the right word, I do not want.
Desire to only read to the end, soon,
Everything is written until it ends.
You stand and stomp. It is not clear what is there about.
Trying the point of looking for, and it seems to be
Joseph is something smart for me, and I, doomed, stupid.
Right or not – I don’t understand. But I still want to think.
If anyone did not understand, I tried to express thoughts about some poets in the spirit of these same poets. Yes, all verses (except those that are attached to the photographs) wrote himself.
In general, this time, more than ever, I want more comment on. The whole associative series for the word "poetry" please throw out.
Maybe someone composed? Folk art in the studio. And do not laugh.
Intrrest.
The best comments
I will sing to you, about two people, a great ballad
Fate almost separated them forever
Hurry up to the haste,
The story of hearts that fought to the beat of love.
And they lived one life,
He and she ..
He was, the minister of the gods, the supreme priest
Assistant to people in sadness and sadness
Healer grief and longing exhausted hearts
Morser-under the name of such a time he was once known
He was happy, in love like a youth,
In the one that was called
Gypsy free, divine in body and soul,
She was truly beautiful
Stole his heart and soul peace
But the SIM SIM BRIGHT PUBLICTIONS FALL
Loved and was beloved – the name of that:
Chertena.
But they have bright feelings, they beat the spears more reliable
The one who killed and was always in the shadow
Assassin. He has long betrayed, the whole charm of life
Becoming a dead man who gave everything for the sake of force
In his soul a long time ago
Servant of death
He hit from the darkness when they did not wait for him
A katar blow in the back, the world turned over the world,
Когда в тиши лесной Морф и Чертена отдыхали
In the shade on the lights, he daring,
With its blow to poisonous steel
He killed a gypsy
And the frozen by the power of the aces that was borrowed
Answered, and his words are like a whip
Assassina stuck, and the power of the dark, nourished that left
And from the face of light land, having expelled it forever
Morf fell before the devil and gaining a little by the shoulder,
I came in screaming:
-Oh aces, he served you, and glorified your glory,
Return to me love, I pray for your will! – In a hot prayer, he called to the gods
The answer is silence, like pain.
And no matter how vain he calls,
The gods were silent ..
Gods do not care about ordinary mortals!
Old they are like a world, and have seen in their lifetime,
There are a lot of tragedies, often ephemeral.
But the secret god – ifud, violated the silence,
He answered, in the concerns of everyday
-I will return it to you,
I understand your grief, but my strength alone,
It’s not enough to call her from the fever of the valhala,
Your call, to her soul, will return to the brandy world will force!
The morph looked at the damn and squeezing the hand of her hands,
Said: – I can do love nourishes me.
Just don’t let you down!
-Return to the devil! – Thunder mournful scream,
The sharpest knife cut the sky.
The morph poured her and faded rock overtook her,
So the river wakes up, shaking off the fetters of ice,
And at the same hour and at the same moment,
The devil came to life.
“My dear,” the whisper of her lips made Morf startle:
– Do not say, do not waste grains of precious forces,
It took everything, quickly, like a terrible dream, forget!
I said to her. – But that assassin – he killed me,
And rightly the aces only could return me?
The morph sighed heavily:
Those asam prayed in vain – they did not want to help me!
I will reject them, I will forget those who gave rise to sorrow,
And there are no other gods for me, ifud except.
Not a morph from now on, no, but Arkhanfel!
May I be among those who are cursed on earth,
Gods traitor ..
I sang everything to you, it’s time to subside to me
I will only delight those for which this repact is delighted:
In Prunter, on Cherten Arch, married in the spring.
Let the ballad end there,
Although I was there, but already,
The story is different ..
Griboedov is generally excellent! I approve.
Uniform, one uniform! He is the same in their life
Once she covered, embroidered and beautiful,
Their cowardice, reason is poverty,
And we are happy for us on the road!
Eh, it’s not good friend.:)
You see soon there will be more such posts, and not those that are now.
And that’s good.
Good luck and thanks for the post.:)
Chshort, OP, you reminded me of a collection of poems by Brodsky, which I intended to read everything, but forgot. I will get it now.
Somehow a message was suddenly published, Sor did not edit. The essence of the background is this: I once played in Ragnarok-Online, on the Motr server, and if anyone played there, you should remember the excellent function of the keykeeper, when special people told some self-written work. And if the keyword liked it, then the number of mobs in Dange increased, in the n-oh number.
I had two Sopartis, who met online and were going to combine their destinies in the real world in the near future. In their honor, I came up with this clumsy something, by misunderstanding, called the ballad.
The meaning of the post was – poets to spoil a little.
And God forbid me to touch Vysotsky! Firstly, holy, and secondly, it will not work. 🙂
I wrote earlier, even posted in blogs. I wrote under the influence of unrequited love, so it turned out quite lyrical. Now I rarely write, only if I want to congratulate some dear girlfriend in a special way. In general, I am quite warm about poetry, I love Mayakovsky’s poems and Griboedovskoye “Woe from Wit”.
I saw a couple of catchy, but this is rather an exception than the rule. Here to track the dials – yes. I understand that. Euphoria is immediately covered. Or longing. It depends on how they develop 🙂
😀
Well, by the way, “Technic” and “humanitarian” paragraphs are not at all mutually exclusive. I, for example, in the theory of matanalysis I like to poke around. In evidence, especially. 🙂
you will melt the iceberg with your warmth
You will light up the road with a smile
you will bite the iron hard with your teeth
And you will break the tree in vain
And I told you that it is dangerous to walk at nuclear power plants
I completely agree. I also do not disdain creativity or contemplation of the beautiful. And I am covered with emotions, be healthy!
Let there are no hundreds of advantages and comments, but the post brings diversity to reviews and other flyers. Let such topics not need a majority, but there is also a minority.