Great about verses:
Poetry is like painting: one work will captivate you more if you look at it closely, and another if you move further away.
Little cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creak of unoiled wheels.
The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which has broken.
Marina Tsvetaeva
Of all the arts, poetry is most tempted to replace its own idiosyncratic beauty with stolen glitter.
Humboldt W.
Poems succeed if they are created with spiritual clarity.
The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is commonly believed.
If only you knew from what rubbish Poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion near a fence, Like burdocks and quinoa.
A. A. Akhmatova
Poetry is not in verses alone: it is spilled everywhere, it is around us. Take a look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life breathe from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.
I. S. Turgenev
For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.
G. Lichtenberg
A beautiful verse is like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. Not our own - our thoughts make the poet sing inside us. Telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He is a wizard. Understanding him, we become poets like him.
Where graceful verses flow, there is no place for vainglory.
Murasaki Shikibu
I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in Russian. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. Because of the feeling, art certainly peeps out. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
- ... Are your poems good, tell yourself?
- Monstrous! Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! the visitor asked pleadingly.
I promise and I swear! - solemnly said Ivan ...
Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "The Master and Margarita"
We all write poetry; poets differ from the rest only in that they write them with words.
John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"
Every poem is a veil stretched out on the points of a few words. These words shine like stars, because of them the poem exists.
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
The poets of antiquity, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. It is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times, a whole Universe is certainly hidden, filled with miracles - often dangerous for someone who inadvertently wakes dormant lines.
Max Fry. "The Talking Dead"
To one of my clumsy hippos-poems, I attached such a heavenly tail: ...
Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea and not a plague!
Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky
Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore drive away critics. They are but miserable drinkers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let the verses seem to him an absurd lowing, a chaotic jumble of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from tedious reason, a glorious song that sounds on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.
Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"
Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing but pure poetry that has rejected the word.
Agniya Barto
It was in January
There was a tree on the mountain
And next to this tree
The bad wolves roamed.
Here once,
night time,
When it's so quiet in the forest
Meet the wolf under the mountain
Bunnies and bunnies.
Who wants in the New Year
Fall into the clutches of a wolf!
The rabbits rushed forward
And they jumped on the tree.
They pricked their ears
They hung like toys.
ten little bunnies
They hang on the tree and are silent.
The wolf was deceived.
It was in January,
He thought that on the mountain
Decorated Christmas tree.
*
Father Frost
E. Tarakhovskaya
He grew to my eyebrows,
He climbed into my boots.
They say he's Santa Claus
And naughty, like a little one!
He ruined the water faucet
In our washbasin.
They say he has a beard
And naughty, like a little one!
He paints on glass
Palm trees, stars, skiffs.
They say he's a hundred years old
And naughty, like a little one!
*
In defense of Santa Claus
A. Barto
My brother (he outgrew me)
Brings everyone to tears.
He told me that Santa Claus
Sosem not Santa Claus!
He told me:
- Don't trust him!
But here by myself
The door opened
And suddenly I see -
Grandfather enters.
He has a beard
Dressed in a sheepskin coat
Toe loop to the very heels!
He says:
- Where is the tree?
Do the children sleep?
With big silver
sack
Costs,
showered with snow,
In a fluffy hat
Grandfather.
And the elder brother
Says secretly:
- Yes, this is our neighbor!
How can you not see: the nose is similar!
Both arms and back!
I answer: - Well, so what!
And you look like a grandmother
But you're not her!
*
What is New Year?
It's all the other way around:
Trees grow in the room
Squirrels do not gnaw cones,
Hares next to the wolf
On a thorny tree!
The rain is also not easy,
In the New Year it is golden,
Shine that there is urine,
Nobody gets wet
Even Santa Claus
Doesn't pinch anyone's nose.
*
Winter before the holiday
For the green tree
Dress white herself
Sewn without a needle.
Shake off the white snow
Christmas tree with a bow
And is the most beautiful of all
In a green dress.
Green color suits her
Elka knows this.
How is she on New Year's Eve?
Well dressed!
*
DECEMBER
In December, in December
All trees are in silver.
Our river, as if in a fairy tale,
Frost paved the night
Updated skates, sleds,
I brought a Christmas tree from the forest.
The tree cried at first
From home warmth.
Stop crying in the morning
She breathed, she came alive.
Her needles tremble a little,
The branches were on fire.
Like a ladder, a Christmas tree
The fires fly up.
Flappers glitter with gold.
I lit a star with silver
Run to the top
The bravest bastard.
A year has passed like yesterday.
Over Moscow at this hour
The clock of the Kremlin tower strikes
Your salute - twelve times.
*
FIRST SNOW
Look guys
All around covered with cotton wool!
And in response there was laughter:
- It was the first snow.
Only Lyuba disagrees:
- It's not snow at all -
Santa Claus brushed his teeth
And scattered the powder.
*
The real secret
Y. Moritz
The tree is dressed up, the pie sighs,
The bell rang and the puppy jumped
I pulled the lock - and rooted to the threshold!
I couldn't utter a word, I was silent
And something indistinct at the door mumbled:
Still would! Santa Claus has arrived!
I kiss my grandfather! And suddenly I notice
There are many wonderful things in the old man:
First, for some reason, the old man is in a wig,
And the nose, secondly, he has - from cardboard,
And thirdly, a biting and impudent puppy
At the feet of the old man lay down good-naturedly,
Which is very strange for such a dog!
I see Santa Claus on the boots
The patch that Grandma Rose
Yesterday I sewed on felt boots for my brother.
Hooray! - it's time to scream and jump,
I know the whole truth since yesterday
I gave my slippers for this patch!
But fun-fun to me and wonderful,
Therefore, it is inappropriate to break the secret!
I will make a gift to my older brother:
Not a word - about the nose, about the wig and the patch,
I don't recognize him now!
He is mistaken for Santa Claus
And dad, and mom, and grandmother Rosa,
And every boy, sliding on a sled,
And a janitor with a shovel, standing in a snowdrift,
And everyone who sees from the shining snow
Cherry sack over his shoulder!
He gave me a real telescope,
Then the New Year came,
So, he was real Santa Claus,
And the fact that he is my older brother is real,
So this is my first real secret!
"It was in January..."
It was in January
There was a tree on the mountain
And next to this tree
The bad wolves roamed.
Here once
night time,
When it's so quiet in the forest
Meet the wolf under the mountain
Bunnies and bunnies.
Who wants in the New Year
Fall into the clutches of a wolf!
The rabbits rushed forward
And they jumped on the tree.
They pricked their ears
They hung like toys.
ten little bunnies
They hang on the tree and are silent -
The wolf was deceived.
It was in January,
He thought that on the mountain
Decorated Christmas tree.
A. Barto
"The wolves told the news..."
The wolves told the news
Brought forty news
What is a tree in a dense forest
Decorated is!
The animals heard the news
They ran through the woods.
Everyone wants to check
Look at the tree for yourself.
For whom, why, where
Did this miracle happen?
Who brought the tree here?
Isn't it Santa Claus himself?
Is there time to figure it out
Who brought, why removed?
Ah, foxes, squirrels, hares,
Open a noisy ball!
A. Kuznetsova
New Year round dance
Round dance, round dance...
The little people are dancing.
Dance by our Christmas tree
We are ready for the whole year!
Beauty, beauty...
Our tree is thick.
You can't reach the top of your head.
What a height!
Under the bush, under the bush
Someone with a red tail.
This is a sly fox
Under the bush is a fox house.
It's snowing, it's snowing...
Hello hello,
New Year!
How cheerful we are
Near the Christmas tree round dance!
Round dance, round dance...
The little people are dancing.
Dance by our Christmas tree
We are ready for the whole year!
Y. Lednev
A Christmas tree in summer is just a Christmas tree:
You touch a branch - it's prickly to your fingers,
The trunk is entwined with cobwebs,
A fly agaric is below.
That's when winter comes
The tree seems to come to life:
Will fluff up in the cold
Unfold under the winds
Not prickly at all
Like a fragrant flower.
It smells not of dew, not of honey,
The tree smells like New Year!
N. Filimonova
"Here it is, our Christmas tree ..."
Here it is, our Christmas tree,
In the blaze of radiant lights!
She seems to be the most beautiful
All greener and more lush.
A fairy tale is hidden in the green:
The white swan swims
Bunny slides on a sleigh
The squirrel gnaws nuts.
Here it is, our Christmas tree,
In the blaze of radiant lights!
We all dance for joy
On New Year's Day under it!
V. Donnikova
New Year
Smells like fresh tar again
We gathered at the tree
Our tree is dressed up
The lights on her lit up.
Games, jokes, songs, dances!
There are masks here and there...
You are a bear and I am a fox.
What miracles!
Let's dance together
Hello, hello New Year!
N. Naydenova
New Years is soon
Soon, soon the New Year!
He's in a hurry, he's coming!
Knock on our doors:
"Children, hello, I'm with you!"
We celebrate the holiday
We decorate the Christmas tree
We hang toys
Balls, crackers...
Santa Claus is coming soon
Will bring us gifts -
Apples, candy...
Santa Claus, where are you?!
3. Orlova
Snowman
Snowman, carrot nose,
Went out in the morning in the cold.
I took a shovel to remove the snow,
I took a broom to sweep
I took the sled to go to the forest
And bring firewood.
And then bake a cake
Invite a bunny to visit
Bear, squirrel and hedgehog,
Sparrow and bullfinch.
Come, forest people!
The snowman is waiting for you.
T. Marshalova
New Year's drawing
Here he is Santa Claus!
Nicely drawn:
Came out with a bag not empty
Before the New Year!
How good is the old man
In this picture:
Smiling, standing
At the fir branches.
And sings on the Christmas tree
In front of him is a titmouse.
May you on New Year's Eve
It will all come to fruition.
V. Churnosov
Mom decorated the Christmas tree
Mom decorated the tree
Anya helped her mother;
Gave her toys
Stars, balloons, crackers.
And then the guests were called
And they danced at the Christmas tree!
(V. Petrova)
herringbone
Herringbone, Christmas tree, Sharp needle
Where did you grow up? - In the woods.
- What did you see? - Lisa.
- What's in the forest? - Frost.
bare birches,
Wolves and bears
- That's all the neighbors. -
And we have New Year
Everyone sings a song.
(M. Evensen)
It happens in the world...
It happens in the world
That only once a year
They light up the tree
A wonderful star.
The star burns, does not melt,
Shines beautiful ice.
And immediately comes
Happy New Year!
(I. Tokmakova)
He grew to my eyebrows
He grew to my eyebrows,
He climbed into my boots.
They say he is Santa Claus,
And naughty like a little one.
He ruined the water faucet
In our washbasin.
They say he has a beard
And naughty like a little one.
He paints on glass
Palm trees, stars, skiffs.
They say he's a hundred years old
And naughty like a little one.
(E. Tarakhovskaya)
First snow
Look guys
All around covered with cotton wool!
And in response there was laughter:
- It was the first snow.
Only Lyuba disagrees:
- It's not snow at all -
Santa Claus brushed his teeth
And scattered the powder.
