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 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 each poetic work of those times, a whole Universe was certainly hidden, 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.
To the question, gifted people, please help me compose a poem, I have a problem with this across the ocean, a sailor brought a monkey, something asked by the author Masha Malinovskaya the best answer is
The ship sailed on the ocean
A sailor stood on the deck
I saw a monkey on the island
I brought her home with me
Longing for my native palm tree
All night long
such a sad song
the macaque is singing all over in tears
After all, there in the far south
hanging on different bushes
her friends are waiting for her
And they sigh heavily - Ah. .
There are no tailed girlfriends here
Your soul can't understand
and bananas are no substitute
Freedom on my palm tree...))
Answer from Neurosis[newbie]
I saw a sailor sailing on the ocean, he saw a monkey and brought it home
Answer from Irina Belenko[newbie]
A ship sailed on the ocean
A sailor stood at the helm
Red-bottomed monkey
He brought his friends for his friends
The monkey sits sadly
Tears flow all day long
Why did he catch this?
Still doesn't sing anything
If only she lived in the south
Drowning in different bushes
I wish I could hang out with my friends
Curlers twisted on tails
Eating stupid bananas
Not understanding the meaning of my work
Monkeys wrote poems
Based on other people's work
You can’t outdo Marshak, but changing words isn’t that difficult
Answer from Aiding[newbie]
"Moscow, November 19, 1946
Dear Comrade Smolyan,
You are absolutely right . Only 14 lines in the poem "Monkey" belong to me and represent original version poetic caption to Austin Aldean's drawing in the book "Children in a Cage". In subsequent editions, Aldin's drawings were replaced by E. Charushin's drawings, and many of the texts were revised by me or replaced with new ones. In particular, I made a new text for the drawing depicting a monkey, since the previous one, corresponding to Aldin’s drawing, seemed too melancholy to me. New text was shorter, sharper and livelier.
As you know, Kids in a Cage was one of my first children's books. It was gradually improved, and only the text of the latest editions I consider completely complete.
As for the second half of the poem you cited (from the words “Grumbling like an old cockatoo”), it was entirely composed by an author unknown to me. As far as I remember, many years ago the famous pianist and composer Irina Sergeevna Miklashevskaya once asked me on the phone to enlarge the text of my small poetic signature, since this text seemed too short for music. I could not satisfy her request, and then she entrusted this task - as far as my memory serves me - to her son, and perhaps she wrote the text herself. I have never seen this version of the song in print or heard it performed in public. That's why I didn't object to him. I. S. Miklashevskaya is a very talented artist and very delicate person. I am sure that she would not allow herself to print the text without first obtaining my consent. That's the whole story of this case.
You did well to notify me that a distorted version of my poem was being performed on the radio.
With sincere greetings.
S. Marshak
Printed from a typewritten copy.
In a letter dated November 15, 1946, A. S. Smolyan (Leningrad), an employee of the Smena newspaper, sent the text of a song about a monkey, performed on the Leningrad radio (music by I. S. Miklashevskaya); asked if S. Ya. Marshak is the author of the text of the second half of the song. "
Monkey
Sailed across the ocean
from Africa sailor
baby monkey
he brought it in a box.
She sits sadly
all night long
and this song
sings in his own way.
in the warm bright south
in my homeland
cheerful friends
playing between the branches
wonderful bananas
in my homeland
monkeys live there
and there are no people at all.
Here initial options: link
Answer from Sandwich[newbie]
birthday gift mug with Obyazana there will be tea in it with pleasure reminding of my anniversary
Answer from Tatyana Sitnikova[guru]
By sea-ocean
dreamy sailor
baby monkey
brought it from Africa.
Tailed, yearning
All night long
So sad
Everyone sings a song:
Ah, in Africa, in the south,
In the spreading bushes
Tailed friends
Swinging on their tails!
I won't take bananas
From the hands of strangers...
Goodbye monkeys
in my homeland...
Answer from Yialka[guru]
Sailed across the ocean
Sailor from Africa.
Baby monkey
He brought it in a box.
That monkey, sad
All day long,
So sad
Sings a song:
There, in the far south,
On the branches on the tails
Girlfriends swinging
And they jump in the bushes.
And at least he gives me bananas
The monkey is his friend -
Monkeys can't
Live among people...
Answer from Natalia Tsvetkova[newbie]
sailed on the ocean
from the jungle sailor
cushion the monkey
he brought it
she lies dragging
all day long
and this song
she sings to me
"in this hot south
on trees and bushes
my friends scream
swinging on their tails
yellow bananas
in my family
monkeys live here
together..."
Autumn 1928 year Harms I wrote down S. Marshak’s poem “Monkey” in my notebook.
If compared with last option Marshak, this is what happens:
However, of course it is necessary to compare with the 1928 version (we will look for it).
In the meantime, here’s another story with this poem from Samuil Yakovlevich’s letter to Alexander Semenovich:
A. S. SMOLYAN
Dear Comrade Smolyan,
You are absolutely right . Only 14 lines in the poem "Monkey" belong to me and represent the original version of the poetic caption for Austin Aldean's drawing in the book "Children in a Cage." In subsequent editions, Aldin's drawings were replaced by E. Charushin's drawings, and many of the texts were revised by me or replaced with new ones. In particular, I made a new text for the drawing depicting a monkey, since the previous one, corresponding to Aldin’s drawing, seemed too melancholy to me. The new text was shorter, sharper and livelier.
As you know, Kids in a Cage was one of my first children's books. It was gradually improved, and only the text of the latest editions I consider completely complete.
As for the second half of the poem you cited (from the words “Grumbling like an old cockatoo”), it was entirely composed by an author unknown to me. As far as I remember, many years ago the famous pianist and composer Irina Sergeevna Miklashevskaya once asked me on the phone to enlarge the text of my small poetic signature, since this text seemed too short for music. I could not satisfy her request, and then she entrusted this task - as far as my memory serves me - to her son, and perhaps she wrote the text herself. I have never seen this version of the song in print or heard it performed in public. That's why I didn't object to him. I. S. Miklashevskaya is a very talented artist and a very delicate person. I am sure that she would not allow herself to print the text without first obtaining my consent. That's the whole story of this case.
You did well to notify me that a distorted version of my poem was being performed on the radio.
With sincere greetings.
S. Marshak
Printed from a typewritten copy.
In a letter dated November 15, 1946, A. S. Smolyan (Leningrad), an employee of the Smena newspaper, sent the text of a song about a monkey, performed on the Leningrad radio (music by I. S. Miklashevskaya); asked if S. Ya. Marshak is the author of the text of the second half of the song.
Note to Samuel scholars:)))
Kharms did not indicate the authorship of Marshak, however, he did not “appropriate” this poem.
This must be taken into account, probably in connection with the story that happened with the poem “In July, somehow in our summer...”. This story was told to the world by Alexey Dmitrenko in 2005, but he still hasn’t published it, so we’d better not talk about it :)))
Although part of the story is here.
A sailor sailed across the ocean from Africa and brought us a little monkey as a gift. She sits, yearning, all evening long, and sings this song in her own way: “In the far hot south, On palm trees and bushes, My friends squeal, Swinging on their tails. Wonderful bananas In my homeland. Monkeys live there And there are no people at all.”
Slide 24 from the presentation “Poems about Animals”Dimensions: 720 x 540 pixels, format: jpg. To download a slide for free to use in class, right-click on the image and click “Save Image As...”. You can download the entire presentation “Children in a Cage.pps” in a 1019 KB zip archive.
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“Poems for a child for one year” - What is it? (Rain). Is this drip-drip or koop-kup? Tell me how the rain drips? (Drip-drip). How does the baby bathe? - Kup-kup. What is this? (Umbrella). Drip-drip-drip - The rain sings to us. Tell me, how does the baby bathe? (Kup-kup). There will be children squelching and squelching in the water. Listen carefully, think carefully. Now tell me, is this drip-drip or koop-kup?
“Poem for children” - Hurry up to the pond, look into the mirror pond. The mouse took pity on the cat: “You shouldn’t be sad, little kitty.” The cat is crying by the path: The cat doesn’t have a mirror. The cat ran to the pond and combed her fur smoothly. The goat doesn't have horns, the hen doesn't have rich... Soon to visit her: Where can I find a mirror?
“New Year's poem for children” - Agnia Barto. It was in January. Ten little bunnies are hanging on a Christmas tree and are silent. The wolf was deceived. It was in January, there was a Christmas tree on the mountain, and angry wolves were wandering around this tree. The little bunnies rushed forward and jumped onto the tree. Who wants to New Year fall into the clutches of the wolf! It was in January... They laid their ears down and hung like toys.
“Marshak’s Poems for Children” - I drank some water at the WARLUS. I refreshed myself at the FOX. I was at a festive dinner at the furry BEAR. Where did you have lunch, sparrow? Samuil Yakovlevich Marshak. And the toothy CROCODILE almost swallowed me. I stayed with RHINO and ate a little bran. First I had lunch BEHIND THE BARS at LION's. Where did you have lunch, SPARROW? I attended a feast at the tailed KANGAROO.
"Marshak's Poems" - Marshak's Poems.
“Poems for children 6 years old” - Suddenly a cat came towards him and came out of the gate menacingly. And the robber's mustache immediately hid in the bushes. The door to the ant house is now always open to me. I shouted to the cat: “Scram! Woof woof woof! Watch out! It’s just a pity that for me the door is too small for an ant. One day an ant was carrying two boards for doors. Don’t offend the ant, it’s easy to offend him: He’s small in stature.
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