Poems

The poem always was for me the form of expression of feelings. In two-three stanzas finds room much – the overflowing emotions asking on will of thought, impetuous passion. Not having possibility to give vent to this all on a paper, for a long time would descend suma from an overabundance of feelings. And so – anything, it was possible to consult. Improbably it would be desirable, not spending, certainly, not deserved analogies to repeat thereupon Sergey Yesenin's words: «as to other autobiographical data, - they in my verses».

Main | the Forum | Contacts

The sea

I run to breakage,
I wish to fly up.
Air to take with running start
And hands to sing.
Fear of a rock haughty,
Serost muddy clouds,
The change seas
And a sliding beam.
I run faster,
I wave a hand,
Time has twirled,
Has drunk rest.
The sun presses from above
I whisper dream:
«The sea, rocks, a wind,
I treat, I treat! »
Evening, people, persons,
The dawn has flown.
Morning, pleasure, birds,
And I was not present.

1993

To leave a response

Fill, please, all obligatory fields.
Messages can be left not more often, than once 10 minutes.
The text сообщения*
Yours имя*
Yours e-mail
Protective codeEnter this protective code

14.02.2007 17:49 you too dream to become a bird?
Flame


28.06.2007 19:00 superski!!!
Max


© Mashkova Irina Vladimirovna, 2007
info@irina.freetzi.com

Sexy Sluts - Young teens girls

Free Web Hosting