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Modern poetry, which is taken out of your soul
run it on a flight and return back - izmenennuyu.Est poems that tickle the inside edge and the breath. Verses that you better understand the people closest. Verses from which the hair stand on end all over his body. Poems that bring pain and relieved at the same time.
Website have tried to collect some of the poems in this material. The poems by contemporary authors. They are written in a different way, they are read differently.
Deep catharsis you, friends.
Alya Kudryasheva (izubr), 2007Mama in the country, a key on the table, you can not do breakfast. Soon the holidays, for eight years, in August, there will be nine. In August, nine, seven o'clock, the sky is easy and flat, the sun left in the hair faded stripes. Sleepy piece of palm squeeze and watch out through your fingers. Victor from the tenth floor again calling for a swim. We must hurry with all legs and eyes - suddenly run away, leave. Victor finished fourth class - that is, almost old. Pants T-shirt - a simple outfit, apple take afternoon tea. Vic teach me how to dive, he promised, I remember. Proceed to the river road, burned and familiar. Dusty legs are like my mother's gloves. Today we have this heat - leaves just like rags. Maybe then we will play, I ask, to hide and seek. Vic - he is kind, one in a boy of Jules Verne. I'll have to drive me, I am allowed, I suppose. The evening will begin, should darken. The day before the end of the week. I turn to the wall. One hundred, ninety-nine.
Mom in the country. A bike. Tomorrow take the exam. The sun licks synopsis friendly eyes. Morning and welcome to sit up all night, waiting for the onset of summer. In August, I will have a student now - neither this nor that. Polucherstvy Bread and cheese with a knife, breakfast with sleep nevkusen. Victor from the tenth floor now in the third year. He knows all smart professors who wrote the program in the company. Hood, ironic and Chernobrov right character from the film. Writes a note to my sister, I give flowers to pay, except that I'm swimming faster and compose better. Just a little sister bright face, I'm heavier and meaner, we climb the steps and fly a kite. It seems they leave for the night, I spend on the train. River rustling, rustling at his feet, now it is up to his waist. Seventy-eight, seventy-seven, I pay back to the composition. Suppose they are hiding, well, all of them, I'm not going to look for them.
Mom in the country. Baska is buzzing. Sleepy inaction. The cat sat on the chest, the sun on a blanket. Cups, palms and sweaters, coffee, pray, cook. Somebody saw me yesterday? Better not say. Let this be a big secret little debauchery, everyone was drunk, weightless, warmed, warm breath of his brother, his throat hoarse from chatter, ashes flew from the balcony, all at each other - and some are alive and disobedient. If we tabernacle ruble, breakfast come to our house, O Lord, how I love you all, on the palms of the rainbow. Solar Street in lace, Vic, wash plate. You can lie and revive. You can go to the river. I'll let you catch and conquer, will make a haircut, a shave. A broken nose in the bark. Thirty-four thirty ...
Mom on the pictures. The keys in the lock. Eight hours before the summer. Sun on the wall, on a backpack, in an old sandals. Sleepy paws through the park, and can not escape. Vic in America. I am in Moscow. River in early childhood. Apple ate, went up, somewhere is going to Nice, I'm starting to count a hundred, my life - at one. We fight, we cry with her in unison, clowns in the arena. "Twenty-one" - mumble in his sleep. "Forty" - laughing time. Forty - and the first gray hair, and forty-one - the hospital. Twenty-one - I live alone twenty: the eye-slits, his legs scratched, lusty thoughts run squatting, someone is waiting for me in the yard, someone - in the tenth. Ten - finish fourth grade, you can not do breakfast. We must hurry with all legs and eyes. In August, there will be nine. Eight - carry keys around his neck, in a sunny thaw hymn ...
Three. Two. One. I'm going to look. Lord, help me.
Dana Sideros, 2009Odin my friend picks up stray cats,
He brings them home, washes, caressing, feeding.
They're in his apartment take root:
Any suitable box, pad, scoop,
Of course, already occupied, left
This corner where they would not be living hell.
My friend says they save from death.
I silently turn skepticism nod Rocks.
He spends all the money on food and medication for cats,
And I'm surprised he did not even eaten.
It gives passers kittens, friends, neighbors.
I also lectured some lame
With ragged ears and golden eyes,
Then fit in the palm More ...
I, by the way, caring son and honorary donor,
I honestly am working, I do not drink, return loans.
But all these valuable qualities are useless,
They do not go to offset, are worthless,
When the windows at night for someone moaning,
And singing is heard whistling blade wires,
When the ceiling is lowered, bottomless darkness,
And death flows into drains, seeping into the cracks,
When she sits down on the edge of the bed
And stroking my cheek with an ice hand,
All the body reduces, the palate language soldered,
I looked into her eyes, I can not look away.
My cat Cripple fit, falls next.
She retreats.
Elena Kasyan, 2008 Yuzek and Magda
Yuzek wakes in the night, grabs her by the arm, panting:
"I dreamed terrible, I'm so scared of you ...»
Magda slept like a baby smiles in his sleep, he did not hear.
He kisses her on the shoulder and goes to the kitchen, clicks his lighter.
Then he returned, looking, and the bed completely empty,
- What the hell? - Thinks Yuzek. - Where could she escape? ..
"Magda died, Magda long gone," - suddenly remembers,
And so it is standing in the doorway, stricken with a beating heart ...
Magda hot, and something pressing on his chest, she sits in bed.
- Yuzek, I open the window, right? - Whispers in his ear,
Pats on the head with regard to fingers gently, just barely,
There is the kitchen, drinking water, returns with a mug.
- You want a drink? - And there is no one, no one is responsible.
"He died a long time!" - Magda sits on the floor and howling beluga.
The fifth year of the wild rose and ivy fences buzz.
And they still have all the dreams and dreams with each other.
Ok Melnikov 2012vse important phrases should be quiet,
all photos with family is always blurred.
the strangest people are always great,
and the causes of happiness always neveskie.
the most honest you hear in the kitchen at night,
After all, if the feelings - not on the phone,
And if you cry, so to howl like a wolf,
so dreary echo to polrayona.
favorite songs - all in a hoarse voice,
all the favorite verses - unknown.
all arrogant people are always worthless,
and all the loved ones is not always local.
all important meetings are always random.
most loyal subjects - traitors,
circus clowns - all the sad,
and stubborn skeptics - all dreamers.
if the house is comfortable - not exactly the castle,
The apartment was a little old in Odessa.
if you contact anyone - ever, firmly.
Now let's not so, but you wait patiently.
Yes, now another, but believe we sbudemsya,
If we are to change, so all my life in a new way.
what is most important, will not be forgotten,
brilliant ideas always crazy.
who struck out unnecessary, those available,
you need to let go of who you are too different.
After all, if the mood is not the New Year,
then certainly not with those prazdnuesh.
Fedor said Svarovskiymne
you I still love
that you call
when I was not at home
I read my favorite book
to be internally closer
walk behind me
office and store
to familiar
say, you even saw next to me
spring
Grilled
far from the city
and even real estate conference in Paris
and it
despite
that we are each other almost did not talk
and for obvious reasons
I in the near future you, I think I see
want to know why?
because the wet Riga
you ripped, smeared, scattered
and mixed into a single mass of hair, flesh, bones
and some even bacon
and separately lay snarling head
because I was at the funeral
as expected
buy flowers
because you
two years already dead
but
maybe it's still true
because a strange
grassy smell
It is in the bathroom
early morning
I sometimes I go to the kitchen
there
suddenly
cleaned all the plates
and smoky
paste and eaten whole.
Asya Anistratenko, 2007Govorish himself that winter has passed,
experienced what could; that he could not - leave
as it is; not gone through with the mind,
hardened in the process does not become worse,
He came into the world, looked around, opened his hand - feed the pigeons at the gray benches,
I told them that himself platted nest
there, inside which is registered to the death,
I told them that he had seen bad dreams,
that the kitchen warmed by the radiator,
but winter does not melt the earth,
and the earthly in you, you say, is aging ...
I would have told, but whistling in the ears,
and pocket shallow and empty hand ...
sometimes to forgive all,
a resurrection is not enough.
Vera Polozkova, 2007Bez year week, my light, twenty-two SMS ago, we have not slept,
Forty - did not even think, as a result - and here it is pale, we are in disgrace, and the blind do not see how we were and what we have in the chest boiling water.
Lips hurt because you're all prickly;
no longer my friends, nor your wife;
everyone will say as much as a bad case and how much tissue amazed.
Israeli and Palestinian, and salt and pepper, saliva bitter; August-attendant clutched in his hand us in the palm of the wet, two number plates;
Time crazy insomnia, crappy hotels, conspiratorial jargon and yumorkom; two puppies that ringlet curled up sleeping on the emerald grass, the heat already somlev;
all that to - solid black spots, then I will cut off during installation.
This all stake is the Lord willing, I amuse myself in my old:
Here we do not take with alcohol, that all happened on trezvyaku;
between jeans and a T-shirt strip of skin, the world lurches more like a jack under it;
we're desperately unlikely and all the fun of it many times;
Hair stiff bristles, in bed with a leopard as a Novice, head raging thick syrup;
Think of the heart - you will die a happy old man will tell you that the sons of darts before you start to gather in the coffin.
Boy-tickets-to-last-number, the boy-that-for-luxury-view.
I do not care what's said about us and who is the God of us angers.
I plan to drink rum and you koldreks, to build a life as a comic, cook your steak;
As for those who value moral code - have let perpetual oral sex.
Here he you - you stand in a sheet, in a toga and fooling around, and where I am now gone ?!
Catapult in paradise fucking palaces - especially for those who will burn in hell.
Xenia Zheludov 2011 reminder
read and learn by heart:
Darkness has a limit, and any sadness
surmountable if you build a bridge;
depletion of pain, grief has a bottom,
if you dare to stand up,
to reach the happiness, because it
reach, and its recipe is very simple.
Write paper and then burn:
People - concentric circles,
all have the same core.
memory - driven into the crown inch nail,
Learn to forgive, it will be released half.
resentment and sorrow ripen in a tight bunch,
soaked through to the last drop, get a tart wine.
adults, but do not think age,
Death exists, but it is only death,
a tribute to the law of contrast.
do not try to number the pages,
for the time is not subject to you.
your best to remember the words, names and faces,
to tear down walls and despise the border,
love, as long as the heart is not will smoke,
and know that everything is not in vain.
***
Share your favorite poems in the comments.
Read more modern poems in the continuation of the post
Also read:
That's the woman
Painful love story in verse
via www.adme.ru/vdohnovenie-919705/istoriya-boleznennoj-lyubvi-v-stihah-542705/
If the tender can create your own hands, here it is
From a letter to his wife Svetlana Sergei Bodrov