The content of the article
Popular poetry poems
How poems are born
Along the white sheet run live lines,
Moving from row to row,
They decide where to put the dots,
And they perform their own rite on the sheets.
Every time I just wonder
How suddenly poems are born
In words interconnected,
They find the right frets themselves.
And only at the end, rereading everything again,
I sincerely enjoy him, though,
They are not written by me at all,
And by someone from above, only for me.
Someone dictates them to me so pretty
What I just have time to record
They are quickly on the sheets of their paper,
Then to call them poems.
* * *
Verse verses
Why am I writing poetry?
I do not know.
Perhaps this is how I try to appear.
Who needs them?
I do not know.
Perhaps someone to enjoy them.
Someday, my poems will be noticed.
I hope they will be admired.
It will happen soon, without fail.
Cause all dreams
Everyone should come true.
* * *
To another - and boredom, and flour,
And someone will freeze, breathing a little ...
Poetry is a science
About what is the Soul.
And there is no rapture above
Than to drink this sweet oppression!
He who has ears will hear ...
He who has a soul will understand ..
* * *
Everyone is trying on himself
Lines from poems of others
Created to the rhythm of heartbeats
Hating, crying or loving.
And everyone finds in those words
Echoes of their experiences
Shadows of Unfulfilled Desires
And hope, as if in prophetic dreams.
* * *
Poems are like gems
Each has its own shine, cut, color.
And each has a special glow -
Soul part of them put a poet
* * *
Enthusiastic speeches? - nonsense.
Choking cheers ?! - empty.
What about poems?
Still poems.
Still alone are worth something.
And the stairs
rhythm
leisurely,
With a smile the soul goes to the soul.
* * *
I love poems
I love poems that scream
That soaked in pain
They will convince of sad true love ...
Poems are not with sugar, but with salt!
With sharp claws they cry out in the heart,
Squeezed to wild pain with blood
And you will understand that there is a door in the world,
Leading into a country called love.
I love those tearing my soul apart
Poems that are thoroughly pierced,
Who take and strangle
Which cause goosebumps.
Which will affect indifference ...
And so that my heart beats furiously ...
After which there are tears on the pillow.
Poems about sinful souls ....
I love to read about the battered fate,
And about cruel reality
About life, drunk to the bottom.
And about the hope of a fluke.
Poems like that make you live
To cherish love and value life!
* * *
Here I am sitting over the notebook at midnight.
Maybe someone dies with longing ..
I want to. As an ambulance
Verses hurried to the man.
To shine with kindness and guile.
Each verse I have written
Would be the best medicine in the world
From human heart disease.
So that people would listen to my poems.
And then, repeating in silence.
Forgotten accidents
The crashed soul.
And perhaps someday, in the future,
If anyone gets sick with longing,
He will enter the telephone box
Call and hear - verses!
* * *
They say that verse, no, do not cry ..
Only a line glides .. sometimes ...,
They say that the verses are just luck
But ... happens in verses and ... a tear ....
And there’s a dashing expanse,
Sea of bliss and fidelity of love
Fleeting happiness ... let me
And nagging sadness from longing.
They say poems cry bitterly
And covering the sky with tears
Turn to the heart differently
Like a wanderer standing at the gate.
Knocking, wake up at dawn,
Smiles, hugs you
And on the heart, it’s not so bitter,
And you already look at life loving!
They say that poems, no, don’t cry,
And that line slips in a hurry,
Wish us love and good luck
Preserving the rhyme of a coherent connection ....
* * *
I feel so good at heart
When I stumble upon someone’s poems
Written simply and amusingly,
With irony, without too much husk.
About life, about realities, about the eternal,
Where immediately the image appears.
And somehow, in a personal way, humanely,
Easy and without fake gilding.
After reading this, I think about a lot,
And I admit writing talent -
See the brilliance in the banal and wretched
And get a diamond out of stone!
I love in poetry - ideology, convictions,
But I expect truthful verses from everyone,
That will not lose their meaning in the future,
And thoughts will not say nonsense.
* * *
My poems are out of place,
And the rhyme in some places sometimes limps.
My reader, I am rich with you
And without you, my soul suffers.
Don’t take it, I ask you all seriously
Find a place for irony here.
After all, the word stings are sometimes stronger than wasps,
And regret if you need your heart.
How to convey my love to you
In short lines, at intervals oblique?
I look at your faces again
You have all become like relatives to me.
Sorry if I couldn’t tell you
Its warm, and the cry of the soul of the "poet",
Let us be friends, and remember
How good we were together until dawn.
* * *
Poems are a movement of the soul,
Her desire for freedom.
They only happen in silence
Like clouds in the sky.
The soul hurts, it hurts her -
Hit the strings of awareness.
And if joy is fun
The soul sings, forgetting the groans.
The day will come and all the songs
Souls become poems.
Then write them down faster,
Until they erased themselves.
Poems are a movement of the soul,
Trying to break out of the body
So life is boring, even scream
And it often beats every now and then.
Poems are done only in silence,
Like clouds in the sky.
Words are made up - write!
A reliable way to your freedom!
* * *
Poems are needed to support each other,
They will warm the soul, entertain
They save some from ailment
Others will be doomed to reflection ...
Like butterflies poems flutter in the light
Trying to wake our senses
Rushing over us like a light breeze
They know how to bring joy ...
The blind will see, but the deaf will hear
Speech spills out of the mouth of the dumb
Poems breathe so great power
That they will be able to save from trouble ...
Poems are different, of course,
Probably evil are poems,
But many will go their own way successfully,
Among the verbal surviving husks ...
The best verses about the word
You kind words don't be afraid to say
And be afraid to say insulting and evil.
And before you shed a stream of unnecessary words,
Think, but in general it is worth pronouncing them?
Does sweet spring and salt flow in the spring?
Will a cherry give birth to a fruit with deadly poison?
So how do we bring pain in words alone
We are kind, friendly and glad to others.
About affection and love to utter sometimes
The tongue seemed to suddenly dry up all over the palate.
And rude around, so this is not the first time,
To offend, to be naughty - here it does not happen easier.
And your life and death are in the power of the tongue.
We curse them, we bless them.
And bitterness and love from the heart of the spring
We pour into life, discovering our essence.
In the hearths of the pantries a world of light and shadow
And the word on the lips of the thoughts of the heart.
We attract people with a word of warmth,
And with the bitter word of evil we push others to death.
You are not redder to say aloud about tenderness
Redder when you are rude and hurt a word,
Redder when you are rude, where you need to be silent.
Not verbosity is the essence, but in the wisdom of Christ.
Silence in price over gold is worth
And they are drawn to you when you know how to listen.
And if a person only talks a lot -
Sins in empty words and thereby destroys the soul.
Only kind words don't be afraid to say
Their people are always waiting in this cruel world.
Learn from the Lord how to love your neighbor,
So that the word on the lips burns with God's light.
* * *
Sometimes life shakes us cool
And we lose the thread of peace
And abruptly, in a rage, rude to someone,
So simple to be rude ...
We easily offend loved ones,
Just because the mood is zero
And so it turns out that without noticing
We hurt painfully ...
Words - like sparrows - you won’t catch them,
And they wound - just in the heart of a cloud of arrows,
And if you decide to say something,
Think not to regret tomorrow.
After all, the abandoned - without thinking - the word
One day can do a lot of trouble
And from such an unsolicited resentment
A deep trace will remain in the soul.
Of course, time gradually heals,
Bad helping us to forget
But so as not to mutilate each other’s souls,
THINK ... before
to speak.
* * *
Warm words don’t need a reason
And you don’t have to wait for many years.
Give them in the heat and in the cold,
In the morning, in the evening and at lunch.
They are needed like fresh air
Like the blue of the sky, like the salt of the earth.
It’s not difficult to give warmth
They have a sea of affection and love.
* * *
How easy and simple to be deceived
Trusting "sincere" words.
Learning to listen is very important.
The silence given to us.
You can listen without hearing anything.
To see everything, but to be blind.
Soaring up, dropping below
Not reaching the ghostly peaks.
Misconceptions and contradictions
There are so many in this life that you can’t count.
In the infinite words
Very often lies and flattery are hidden.
Do not rush to break the silence,
Speaking unnecessary words.
If you want to hear the Soul -
Look carefully into the eyes.
* * *
Although not new, I will remind you again:
In the face of both friend and foe
You are the master of an untold word
And the spoken word - you are a servant.
* * *
Do not believe the words - they are sometimes empty.
Do not believe your eyes - they are surrounded by darkness.
Only a beat, truly, does not lie
When treacherously appearance betrays.
* * *
I don’t believe those who speak beautifully for a long time -
In the words of sweet little ones, sometimes lies and flattery ...
I’m only measuring business, doing things,
I only appreciate those in whom there is decency and honor ...
* * *
Never curse anyone!
This force is dimensionless:
Words with anger kill, know
And they come back without fail.
* * *
While he thought: “Call - do not call” ..
The cardiogram of the relationship has turned into a thread.
The moral of this fable is this:
Try to find the words in time !!!
* * *
Do not “shoot” the words angrily,
Set aside the duel for tomorrow.
After all, to destroy is a simple matter!
How then to return everything back ?!
There are errors that cannot be fixed,
Let Time heal wounds ...
Even if the “release” memory, -
Scars will not be erased on the Heart.
* * *
Isn’t immortality for us in a word?
Is not man in him a likeness of God?
We are all corrupt and we will all die in our own time,
But we know a lot of immortal words.
In them - and good fragrant honey,
And the moisture of evil is destructive and intoxicating ...
Wasn't that forbidden fruit a word
Having collected which, we lost paradise
* * *
Sometimes we say hurtful words
Without thinking in hearts, without regret
But after what is said sometimes
It is a shame, conscience gnaws at the soul without doubt.
What for? Immoral! Fool!
And your teeth are clenched with anger
After all, the relationship is now over
Hold the wrath in check, the words are on your conscience.
* * *
Saying "sorry" is always possible
Saying goodbye can be difficult ...
Say "leave!" Is not necessary immediately!
Say "keep quiet ..." - add rhinestone.
Saying "thank you" does not interfere!
Saying "then ..." is always ....
Beautiful verses on the theme of verses
Among the confused lines are
One hundred clumsy, one is perfect ...
But that lesson is not for the future,
Reality will not teach anything.
And in return for shame
Only the delight and beating of a miracle.
Strange thoughts open space,
What always come from nowhere.
Will inflict, fly
And at least a thousand times I’ve sworn
This magnet pulls
So that the desire to live is not lost.
* * *
I do not write poetry, I am not a poet.
I just express feelings in rhyme.
I’m so easier and more experienced.
And if feelings are asleep, poetry and no!
* * *
You can draw poems
as if with paints.
Do you want to draw a beautiful life!
Separate words in verses
sound like music
like yellow leaves of leaf fall,
that they dance in a dance ...
There are true words
there are false.
After all, everything is built on
how do you stack them.
Only depends on the comma,
to be happy.
* * *
Easy, fluent poems are written when they flow from the heart to the lines,
seasoned with drops of soul and dissolving somewhere in the ellipses ...
How beautiful the world is, no matter what you say!
And let the tears shed only from happiness, and I am warm from your participation,
even though you are all on the other side of the earth!
I believe that sincerity is needed.
In communication, it is necessary, but if everyone “passed by today”,
then there would be silence in return.
I like all thoughts from the heart
I understood how much I did not know
After all, I have not read these authors
And the "copyright" are also good!
* * *
Who needs my poems?
Good news.
They are like a river bank–
He just is.
They are like grass in the meadows -
Why grow?
They are like clouds in the sky -
Where are they going?
They come like surf
From far away.
It’s as if someone is driving with his hand,
To line is line.
* * *
Someone revelation
Someone's rejection
Someone is indifferent
Someone's life is upside down
Someone is reading sideways
What is the writer's curse
Someone reading in a whisper
And he prays, moreover ...
To someone - the torments of hell,
Someone has fun,
* * *
I am ready to write poetry ...
in the morning. at night. in traffic jams. In the underground.
pick up non-curious lines
in my authorship. in silver.
I'm ready to write about the stars
about the endless fields of Russia
how the grass in the dews bathes
and how willows cry in impotence.
I'm ready ... about anything
write about spring, about fate
Let verses are far from fashionable
but im cramped in my soul.
I am ready to write poetry ...
only about…
not only…
about you
* * *
Let the words flow over the keys
They are already ready
I could shift my life to music
Yes, only there is no story harmonious ...
* * *
You read. There is a verse stronger than screams ...
Have you heard that? If he got to the membranes -
You see, someone stealing his soul
He writes with his heart ... and it hurts like a needle.
Do you like Too bad love has no drafts.
In verses they sometimes die, between quiet lines ...
* * *
Poems can all - laugh or cry.
Can vomit them, like bloody vomit ...
They don’t care ... And they don’t have to resist.
It’s just that the mind resonates with the soul,
And the results will not slow down.
Listen carefully to their meaning
After all, as forerunners and predictors of something,
They can be an unexpected reward ...
And they can predict the future sometimes ...
* * *
Every verse is a child of love
Beggar illegitimate.
Firstborn - at the rut
To bow to the winds - laid.
* * *
To the heart - hell and the altar
To the heart - paradise and shame.
Who is the father? Maybe the king
Maybe a king, maybe a thief.
* * *
Poems are like elephants.
Some blow and stomp the earth
Dropping a forest without axes.
Others on the sideboards
doze off ...
Interesting verses about words and lines
The tombs, mummies and bones are silent, -
Life is given only to the word:
From ancient darkness, on a global graveyard,
Only letters sound.
And we have no other property!
Know how to protect
Though to the best of my strength, in the days of anger and suffering,
Our gift is immortal - speech.
* * *
We know what lies on the scales
And what is happening now.
The hour of courage has struck on our watch,
And courage will not leave us.
It’s not scary to lie under the dead bullets,
Do not bitterly stay homeless
And we will save you, Russian speech,
Great Russian word.
We’ll carry you free and pure
We will give both grandchildren and save from captivity
Forever!
* * *
Curious, funny and subtle:
A verse almost unlike a verse.
Muttering cricket and baby
Perfectly comprehended by the writer.
And in the nonsense of crumpled speech
There is a certain sophistication.
But perhaps human dreams
Sacrifice these fun?
And is the Russian word possible
Turn the carduelis into a twittering
To make sense a living foundation
Could not sound through it?
Not! Poetry puts obstacles
Our inventions, for she
Not for those who, playing charades,
He puts on the cap of the sorcerer.
One who lives real life
Who is used to poetry since childhood,
Ever believes in life-giving,
Full of mind Russian language.
* * *
We cannot predict
How our word will respond
And we are given sympathy
How is grace given to us ...
* * *
A lot of words on earth. There are daytime words -
The blue of the spring shines through them.
There are nocturnal words that we day about
Remember with a smile and sweet shame.
There are words - like wounds, words - like a court, -
They do not surrender with them and are not taken prisoner.
In a word you can kill, in a word you can save,
In a word, you can lead the shelves behind you.
In a word, you can sell, and betray, and buy,
The word can be poured into smashing lead.
But words to all words in our language are:
Glory, Homeland, Fidelity, Freedom and Honor.
I don’t dare to repeat them at every step, -
Like banners in a case, they are in the soul of the shore.
Who often repeats them - I do not believe
He will forget about them in fire and smoke.
He will not remember them on a burning bridge,
They will be forgotten by another in a high post.
Anyone who wants to cash in on proud words,
Offends the heroes countless dust
Those in the dark forests and damp trenches,
Without repeating these words, they died for them.
Let them not serve as bargaining chips, -
Keep the golden standard of them in your heart!
And do not make them servants in petty life -
Take care of their original purity.
When joy is like a storm, or grief is like night
Only these words can help you!
* * *
I look at the sea with greedy eyes
Chained to the ground, on the shore ...
Standing over the abyss - over heaven -
And I can’t fly to the azure.
I don’t know, rebel or submit
There is no courage to die or live ...
God is close to me - but I can’t pray
I want love - and I can’t love.
I stretch my arms to the sun, to the sun
And I see a canopy of pale clouds ...
It seems to me that I know the truth -
And only for her I do not know the words.
* * *
Words are a load on the road
The bag is heavy, meat with blood.
Oh, if I could find
Mysterious words!
Sometimes it seems to me that here
They roaring like birds in a field
Cutting my mouth to pain
They will rush into the wild with freedom.
But sometimes the earth is dead
The scorching wind blows everything.
And it seems that everything in the world -
Words alone.
* * *
I like to say the words
Not quite suitable.
Braid me blue
Threads, thinly ringing!
Of all the chains and bondage
Pulling the wrong lines
Where every word is password
Penetrate the secrets of the evening.
Your words are torturous
Like nailed to the cross.
Grass whispers to me in the evening
Speech affectionately sleepy.
Cleared of all bondage
Rhymes are monotonous.
Decaying pain subsides
To the melodies of sad and impassive.
Freely sings the blue
Songs clinking obscurely.
Give birth to the secret of the word -
Not quite suitable.
* * *
I hate words, words, words,
I can no longer extol rights
Reasonable when all night on the roof
In rags, like a widow, foliage pounds.
It turns out I just hear hard
And the widow's night speech is illegible.
There is a kinship between us. There is no relationship between us.
And if I hold the trees crazy
What's in my dew up my elbow sleeves
That, except for a groan, they already have nothing to answer.
* * *
Judgments form the universe
In which everything is obedient to their basics.
A messenger can lie, but not a message.
Words have no words that do not believe words.
But the rules are in the phrase:
Hold on to the predicate there
Where the subordination went at random
Be attentive to the times -
Credibility also requires fairy tales.
But if you want to whisper the truth
And rhyme living without a slip
Then not you - words will decide
Your fate: so on a fun dance
It is free to bumpons to play knights.
* * *
I keep my word carefully, as if
the nail polish is still dry.
I know winged ones are not shod
and do not challenge the wind.
Listen, and the birds, are they crying?
Are the fish crying? Snakes? Dragonflies?
And if they cry, then what does it mean?
Word, answer these questions?
* * *
Russian is a precious bowl.
Great and powerful he is, like our Motherland,
Like all of us, spiritually strong people.
The world is calling us glorious Slavs.
You are lucky - you were born in Russia,
And the wisdom of the people will be in power.
For all, it is a storehouse, for all, inspiration,
Brought up so many generations.
Our Russian language is precious holiness!
It does not touch slang filth.
As a light source for centuries - endless!
You will save it if you are human!
Loading...