Elena Aleksandrovna Blaginina (1903-1989), a native of the Oryol village, did not immediately realize that she was born a poet. She was the daughter of a baggage cashier at the Kursk-I station, the granddaughter of a priest. The girl was going to become a teacher. Every day, in any weather, in homemade shoes with rope soles, she walked seven kilometers from home to the Kursk Pedagogical Institute. But the desire to write turned out to be stronger, and then, during my student years, Elena Alexandrovna’s first lyric poems appeared in the almanac of Kursk poets.
Then she entered the Higher Literary and Art Institute in Moscow, which was headed by the poet Valery Bryusov.
Elena Alexandrovna came to children's literature in the early 30s. It was then that a new name appeared on the pages of the magazine “Murzilka”, where such poets as Marshak, Barto, Mikhalkov were published - E. Blaginina. “The kids loved her and her poems - lovely poems about what is close and dear to children: about the wind, about the rain, about the rainbow, about birches, about apples, about the garden and vegetable garden and, of course, about the children themselves, about their joys and sorrows,” recalls literary critic E. Taratuta, who then worked in the library where the authors of “Murzilka” spoke to young readers.
Magazine publications were followed by books. In 1936, the poem “Sadko” and the collection “Autumn” were published almost simultaneously. Then there were many other books: Elena Alexandrovna lived a long life and worked constantly. She wrote poems sparkling with humor, “teasers,” “counting books,” “tongue twisters,” songs, and fairy tales. But most of all her poems are lyrical. She also worked on translations, introducing the children to the poetry of Taras Shevchenko, Maria Konopnitskaya, Yulian Tuvim, Lev Kvitko. The best of everything created by Elena Blaginina was included in the collections “Zhuravushka” (1973, 1983, 1988), “Fly away and fly away” (1983), “Burn and burn clearly!” (1990). The latter appeared when Elena Alexandrovna was no longer alive: she died in 1989.
Elena Blaginina
She came to children's literature in the early 30s. Initially, Elena Alexandrovna wrote poems on religious topics, but they did not evoke a response from readers. But she was more successful in children’s works than anyone else. So, after the publication in the magazine “Murzilka” of a selection of her poems for the younger generation, her name became known to a wide audience - children's literature was replenished with a new author.
More than one generation of children grew up on the children's poems, counting rhymes and fairy tales she wrote. Her works are favorite reading for children. Magazine publications were followed by collections of poetry. Blaginina created throughout her long life. And all her poems, as well as counting rhymes, teasers and tongue twisters, were imbued with kindness and humor. The most complete are her poetry collections “Crane”, “Burn, Burn Clearly!”, “Fly Away”. Along with children's poems, they also published other lyrical works.
Elena Alexandrovna dedicated a lot of poems to her mother. Mom is the most important word in every person’s life. In her poems, Blaginina taught children to love, respect, appreciate, cherish and be kind to the most important person for them.
Mom finished singing the song,
Mom dressed the girl:
Red dress with polka dots,
The shoes are new on the feet...
This is how my mother pleased me -
I dressed my daughter up for May.
This is what mom is like -
Golden right!
The poetess tried to choose words that every child could understand and topics that would be interesting to all children. Her poems are pure and naive. She draws readers' attention to the vision of miracles that fill ordinary life.
What juices fermented in it,
To help this miracle?
Or the winds woke him up
All day yesterday and all night?
Blaginina's poetry demonstrates admiration for the world around her, for this extraordinary miracle. She celebrates the beauty of early bloom.
This rainfall, golden, green,
It’s just gushing - your head is spinning!
And you're standing like a sandrillion
In passionate anticipation of magic.
Young, beautiful in her own way,
Participating in the mystery of blossoming.
The children always received the poetess wonderfully and adored her poems. The characters in Blaginin's poems - the wind, the rain, apples, rainbows, a garden, birch trees - are close and dear to children. In poetry they could recognize themselves, their joys and experiences.
I'm running at the very edge
And I sing a funny song.
The echo is loud and discordant
Repeats my song.
I asked this: - Will you shut up? -
And I became silent and stood there.
And it answered me: - Look, look, look! -
This means he understands my speech.
I said: “You sing awkwardly!”
And I became silent and stood there.
And it answered me: - Okay, okay! -
This means he understands my speech.
I laugh and everything rings with laughter,
I'll shut up and there will be silence everywhere...
Sometimes I walk alone
And it's not boring, because the echo...
Present
A friend came to see me
And we played with her.
And here's one toy
Suddenly I liked her:
Groovy frog,
Cheerful, funny.
I'm bored without a toy -
It was my favorite -
But still a friend
I gave away the frog.
I rise with the sun
I rise with the sun,
I sing with the birds:
- Good morning!
- Happy clear day!
That's how nice we sing!
Burn, burn clearly!
The sun is red,
Burn, burn clearly!
Fly into the sky like a bird,
Light up our land
So that gardens and vegetable gardens
Green up, bloom, grow!
The sun is red,
Burn, burn clearly!
Swim like a fish in the sky,
Revive our land
All the kids in the world
Warm up, improve your health!
Rainbow
Rain, rain, no rain,
Don't rain, wait!
Come out, come out, sunshine,
Golden bottom!
I'm on a rainbow arc
I'll love to run -
Seven-colored
I'll lie in wait in the meadow.
I'm on the red arc
I can’t look enough
For orange, for yellow
I see a new arc.
This new arc
Greener than the meadows.
And behind her is blue,
Just like my mother's earring.
I'm on the blue arc
I can't look enough
And behind this purple one
I'll take it and run...
The sun has set behind the haystacks,
Where are you, rainbow-arc?
Why, why
Like our Irka
There is a hole in the stockings.
Why,
Why
There's a hole in your stockings?
Because I don't want to
Darn our Irka.
Like our Natka
Darning on the heel.
Why,
Why
Darning on the heel?
Because I don't want to
To be a slob Natke.
I’ll teach my brother how to put on shoes too
I know how to put on shoes
If only I want.
Me and little brother
I'll teach you how to put on shoes.
Here they are - boots.
This one is from the left leg.
This one is from the right leg.
If it rains,
Let's put on our boots.
This one is from the right leg,
This one is from the left leg.
That's how good it is!
Let's sit in silence
Mom is sleeping, she's tired...
Well, I didn’t play!
I don't start a top
And I sat down and sat.
My toys don't make noise
Quiet in the empty room,
And on my mother's pillow
The golden ray steals.
And I said to the beam:
- I want to move too.
I would like a lot:
Read aloud and roll the ball.
I would sing a song
I could laugh.
There's so much I want!
But mom is sleeping and I am silent.
The beam darted along the wall.
And then he slid towards me.
“Nothing,” he seemed to whisper, “
Let's sit in silence!..
Curdled milk
P Sprout milk was given to Klasha.
Klasha is dissatisfied:
- I don’t want yogurt,
Just give me some porridge!
Dali instead of yogurt
Porridge for our Klasha.
- I don’t just want porridge,
So - without sour milk!
Dali along with curdled milk
Porridge Klash ours.
Ate, ate Klasha porridge
Along with curdled milk.
And she ate, got up,
“Thank you,” she said.
About the checkbox
P
left by mom
In a water bottle
Cherry twig,
Escape is young.
A week goes by
And a month has passed -
And a cherry twig
Flowers bloomed.
I'm quiet at night
I lit the lamp
And in a jar of water
Checked the box:
What if with brushes
Will the flag bloom?
Suddenly a banner will rise
For next year?
But mom saw
There is light in the room,
She came and said:
- It won’t grow! No! -
She said: -
Don't be sad, son!
You better do it yourself
Grow up quickly.
You'll become like dad -
You'll go to work
And the banner is big
You will carry it in your hands.
Rowan
N and there is shadow on the path,
Solar grid.
Through the tyn, through the fence
A branch hung down.
I'll come running, I'll gallop,
I'll stand up on my toes,
I’ll grab the branch by the braids,
I'll get the berries.
I'll sit by the fence
And on silk
I'll carefully string it down
Rowan berry.
Put on bitter beads,
Branch, branch!
There is a shadow on the path,
Solar grid.
Autumn rain
L it's raining, in ruts,
Poi the black earth.
We don't miss you,
You can knock, little gray one.
We answer lessons
And we don’t think we’ll be bored.
Yes, and how you miss me,
If you're in school!
They fly away, they fly away...
WITH Koro white snowstorms
The snow will rise from the ground.
They fly away, they fly away,
the cranes flew away.
Don't hear the cuckoos in the grove,
And the birdhouse was empty.
The stork flaps its wings -
flies away, flies away!
Leaf swaying patterned
In a blue puddle on the water.
A rook walks with a black rook
In the garden, along the ridge.
They crumbled and turned yellow
Rare rays of the sun.
They fly away, they fly away,
The rooks also flew away.
Snow Maiden
I made a snow maiden,
Put it in plain sight
Little Snow Maiden
Under the apple tree in the garden.
My princess is standing
Under the round tree -
Princess-princess,
Pretty face.
In a brocade jacket
Stands brighter than dawn
And large ones on the neck -
Ambers are playing.
She will leave my garden
Only the sun will burn:
It will spill, melt,
It will flow away with the streams.
But if I click, it will respond
My Snow Maiden
That echoes from the well,
That's the voice of the stream,
That's a swan swimming
In the cloudy pond,
That apple tree blooming
In my native garden.
Dandelion
TO It’s so cool in the spruce thicket!
I am carrying flowers in my arms...
white-headed dandelion,
Do you feel good in the forest?
You grow at the very edge,
You are standing in the very heat.
The cuckoos are cuckooing over you,
Nightingales sing at dawn.
And the fragrant wind blows,
And drops leaves on the grass...
Dandelion, fluffy flower,
I'll tear you down quietly.
I'll rip you off, honey, can I?
And then I'll take it home.
...The wind blew carelessly -
My dandelion flew around.
Look what a blizzard it is
In the middle of a hot day!
And the fluffs fly, sparkling,
On flowers, on grass, on me...
Echo
I I'm running right next to the slope
And I sing a funny song.
The echo is loud and discordant
Repeats my song.
I asked the echo: “Will you shut up?” -
And I became silent and stood there.
And it answered me:
“Look at you, look at you!”
This means he understands my speech.
I said:
-You sing awkwardly! -
And I became silent and stood there.
And it answered me:
"OK OK!"
This means he understands my speech.
I laugh and everything rings with laughter,
I’ll shut up and there’s silence everywhere...
Sometimes I walk alone
And it’s not boring, because the echo...
Rainbow
D rain, rain, no rain,
Don't rain, wait!
Come out, come out, sunshine,
Golden bottom!
I'm on a rainbow arc
I'll love to run -
Seven-colored
I'll lie in wait in the meadow.
I'm on the red arc
I can’t look enough
For orange, for yellow
I see a new arc.
This new arc
Greener than the meadows.
And behind her is blue,
Just like my mother's earring.
I'm on the blue arc
I can’t look enough
And behind this purple one
I'll take it and run...
The sun has set behind the haystacks,
Where are you, rainbow-arc?
Bird cherry
- H bird cherry, bird cherry,
Why are you standing white?
- For the spring holiday,
Bloomed for May.
And you, grass-ant,
Why are you creeping softly?
- For the spring holiday,
For a May day.
And you, thin birches,
What's green these days?
- For the holiday, for the holiday!
For May! For spring!
Come and have a look!
M took the broom
And I swept the yard.
The broom poked its nose everywhere,
But I didn’t lag behind either -
From barn to porch
I swept endlessly.
Come and take a look
At least find a speck.
Baby Naked
G baby
I sewed a little
Naked baby
New clothes.
Scarlet shirt
Blue pants.
You see, in the pocket
From each side.
I sewed a yellow casing...
Oh yes the dandy kids -
Naked!
I’ll teach my brother how to put on shoes too
I I know how to put on shoes
If only I want.
Me and little brother
I'll teach you how to put on shoes.
Here they are - boots.
This one is from the left leg.
This one is from the right leg.
If it rains,
Let's put on our boots.
This one is from the right leg,
This one is from the left leg.
That's how good it is!
We are sawing
P oh sprout,
Point to point
At the very, very, very time!
Point to point
By sprout
The goats made it for us.
Now we can handle the log -
We saw, we saw,
We're sawing, we're sawing!
One-two,
One-two -
There will be firewood for the winter!
Don't stop me from working
N don't stop me from working.
I'll bring some water
And well water
Of course, I will treat everyone.
Drink,
Drink,
Don't be sorry!
Do you want
Pour into a watering can -
Water the garden:
He drinks water too!
Why, why
TO like our Irka
There is a hole in the stockings.
Why,
Why
There's a hole in your stockings?
Because I don't want to
Darn our Irka.
Like our Natka
Darning on the heel.
Why,
Why
Darning on the heel?
Because I don't want to
To be a slob Natke.
I'm exhausted
WITH yellow sunshine
He lay down on the bench.
I'm barefoot today
She ran on the grass.
I saw how they grow
Sharp blades of grass,
I saw how they bloom
Blue periwinkles.
I heard how in the pond
The frog croaked
I heard how in the garden
The cuckoo was crying.
I saw a gander
At the flower bed.
He's a big worm
Pecked at the tub.
I heard the nightingale -
This is a good singer!
I saw an ant
Under a heavy burden.
I'm such a strong man
I marveled for two hours...
And now I want to sleep
Well, I'm tired of you...
Look at the toys!
I like mom, I don’t like it
The house is in disarray.
I spread the blanket
Even and smooth.
For down pillows
I'll put on muslin.
Take a look, toys!
To work for mine!
Crane
P flew the crane
To old places:
Ant grass
Thick-thick!
Willow tree over the creek
Sad, sad!
And the water is in the creek
Clean, clean!
And the dawn is over the willow tree
Clear, clear!..
Fun for the crane:
It's spring!
Willow
WITH humming, splashing and chirping in the yard...
And the willow is all in fluffy silver:
They're about to break loose and fly away
Lumps of these little gray ducklings.
Touch it, stroke it - how tender it is
Trusting firstborns of spring!
The icicles stopped ringing
Z the icicles stopped blowing,
They froze at the rooftops with fringes,
They shone with cold light,
Frozen as if in winter.
But tomorrow the sun will rise again,
It will begin to bake,
And he will drum on the porch
Drops is cheerful again.
Spring is shading the titmouse,
The sparrows will pick up the song.
They will walk along the stitch in a string
My school friends.
And I'll knock on their window,
Getting into a coat on the go:
Like, wait a little,
Or if you don’t see it, I’m coming!
And, throwing the books behind my back,
Sliding on the melting snow
In your open coat
I'm heading towards spring.
Spring
E stoves are still burning in houses
And the sun rises late,
Also along our river
They walk calmly across the ice;
More to the barn for firewood
You won't get through directly
And in the garden under the trees
A snowman is dozing with a broom;
We are all dressed warmly -
In sweatshirts, in cotton pants...
Still, signs of spring
In everything, in everything are already visible
And in the way the roofs became warmer
And like the sun in full view
The drops, falling, began to sing,
They started babbling as if in delirium.
And suddenly the road became wet,
And the felt boots are full of water...
And the wind is gentle and lingering
It blew from the south side.
And the sparrows scream to each other
About the sun, about its beauty.
And all the cheerful freckles
We sat on one nose...
Great ones about poetry:
Poetry is like painting: some works will captivate you more if you look at them closely, and others if you move further away.
Small cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creaking of unoiled wheels.
The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is what has gone wrong.
Marina Tsvetaeva
Of all the arts, poetry is the most susceptible to the temptation to replace its own peculiar beauty with stolen splendors.
Humboldt V.
Poems are successful if they are created with spiritual clarity.
The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is usually believed.
If only you knew from what rubbish poems grow without knowing shame... Like a dandelion on a fence, like burdocks and quinoa.
A. A. Akhmatova
Poetry is not only in verses: it is poured out everywhere, it is all around us. Look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life emanate 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. The poet makes our thoughts sing within us, not our own. By telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He's a magician. By understanding him, we become poets like him.
Where graceful poetry flows, there is no room for vanity.
Murasaki Shikibu
I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in the Russian language. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. It is through feeling that art certainly emerges. 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 me yourself?
- Monstrous! – Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! – the newcomer asked pleadingly.
- I promise and swear! - Ivan said solemnly...
Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"
We all write poetry; poets differ from others only in that they write in their words.
John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"
Every poem is a veil stretched over the edges of a few words. These words shine like stars, and because of them the poem exists.
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
Ancient poets, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. This is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times there is certainly hidden an entire Universe, filled with miracles - often dangerous for those who carelessly awaken the dozing lines.
Max Fry. "Chatty Dead"
I gave one of my clumsy hippopotamuses this 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 the critics. They are just pathetic sippers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let poetry seem to him like an absurd moo, a chaotic pile-up of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from a boring mind, a glorious song sounding 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 more than pure poetry that has rejected the word.
Who is closely connected with the world of childhood, is a famous Russian poetess and translator. The author’s kind and sincere poems have inspired many of the themes of her works that are understandable to an adult.
Elena Blaginina's work is based on Russian folklore. Her poems, songs, fairy tales, jokes, teases, counting rhymes, and tongue twisters sparkle with good humor, and the themes: the world around us, a mother’s care for her child, communication with peers, rural nature are close to both children and adults.
Blaginina Elena: short biography
Elena Blaginina, whose biography is a vivid example of determination and love for poetry, did not forget about the adult audience, for whom two collections of poems were published: in 1960 - “Window to the Garden”, in 1973 - “Folding”.
Creative contribution to children's literature
In her personal life, Elena Blaginina was married to the Russian poet Georgy Obolduev, whose original work was hidden from the reader for many years by Soviet censorship. The poetess subsequently wrote a book of memoirs about her original and bright wife.
Many of Elena Blaginina’s works were translated into other languages, and the best were included in the domestic children’s book collection, ranking alongside the poems of Samuil Marshak and Korney Chukovsky.
A talented poetess and favorite author of many children, she lived a long life that ended on April 24, 1989. Elena Blaginina, whose biography went down in the history of Russian literature, is buried in Moscow at the Kobyakovskoye cemetery next to her husband.