Ekaterina Godver

Little house at the riverside
Never comes inside my night- or daydreams,
I'm a city dweller, qualified
In remembering shops and signboard graphemes.

Right before my eyes the green boulevards
Turn into the highways - wide and speedy.
I don't carol Russian fields and yards,
Or the charming vastness - foggy, weedy.

I enjoy the boring working day,
And the tightness of the grey skyscrapers,
Rare lilac bushes on my way,
Dusty daisies - like from old wallpapers.

Passing by the drugstore, I recall
That it was a bakery just lately.
At the dump the pigeons swear and brawl,
Twenty-five swift years have flown by straightly.

Pigeons, birds - they never care a thing,
And I don't see reasons for the sadness.
City dwellers, also, dream and sing,
I don't need the pastoral for gladness.

Girls are playing hopscotch by the school,
Drawings on the asphalt made intently.
Hop by hop they follow every rule,
Kicking can of coca-cola gently.

Silent Moscow outskirts taught us right:
Be it cold or rain, or slush, or clear -
Bite off more than you can chew and fight,
But if fail - do not expose a tear.

Ghosts are crowding at the smelling stall,
Buying beer and cheburek (bye, livers!)
Slowly (and unknown for strangers) flow
Hidden in the tubes the city rivers.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/b_l_i_k_i/133

Sveta Litvak

Ablaze, but gentle - sun was shining brightly,
And nature all around was feeling sprightly.
But was the boat we rowed in truly blessed,
Between the bulky logjams tacking lightly?
Curled, twisted, turned - that river was so sightly,
Colossal Russian River at its best!

Detecting freedom from the daily rush,
Delighted, all my friends have thrown up science,
Exhaling, they forgot the books, appliance,
Expecting rest in nature - fresh and lush.
Foreseeing fun they'd have from sober nature tracks,
Friends eagerly were packing the backpacks.

Glow from the splashes, glister of the stream,
Gargantuan backwaters, rifts and whirlpools!
How goddess-like the water sounds, and cools
Hot hearts and arrogance, while setting clear rules:
"Intact you'll be and saving every limb,
If acting not alone but as a team!"

Jump, dance the gilded sparks of the bonfire,
Jurrasic wildness gleams in ruby-red.
"Kho-kho"es the owl, the seeing-all night-eyer,
Knifelike her talons, carrying something dead.
Lost in the mist, the light dissolves ahead,
Low fog above the swamps expanding higher.

Light evening clouds have turned into the darkness,
Late morning skies remind the heavy moss.
My mighty, reckless Russian river with her paws
Massages solid rocks with all her starkness,
Now spitting sand and silt forth and across.
Neglecting any calmness, the Coloss
Outdoes itself in turns and curls and madness.
Oh, fishes playing in eternal gladness,
Please, jump into my net without sadness!
Provide me dinner a la "fish-and-sauce"!

Quite far we rowed through abysses and shallows,
Quick glance at river weeds and blooming mallows.

Replaced by forests, fields surround the banks,
Reflecting urge for pastoralic silence.
Some sternness feels ahead, in forward flanks,
Sweet-smelling air is hanging over streams,
Soft rustle of the trees is singing hymns.
Slap-slap! The wind is whiping birch with violence.

Then all is calm. Somewhere bleats the goat,
The noises of the woods seem so remote.
Unheard are voices, speech or sounds of labor,
Unuttered words are stuck inside the throat...
Vexed, quacking duck took off - the feathered neighbour,
Vah! Sand beneath the bottom. Halt the boat!

Warmth needed? Get some birch bark, sticks, desire,
Woods are so generous for fire food.
Xenial customs in the woods are good,
Xylophagous (wood eater) — is the fire.
You'll never understand if haven't rowed
"Young-I'm-again!" effect of rower's load.

Zest-filled, like heroes of the epic song,
Z-z-z-.... Zleep my fellows, nested right where they belong.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/SvetaLitvak4/383

Я жарила ему яичницу,
А он читал Андрея Белого,
И тут мы понимаем всю бессмыслицу
Сегодняшнего стихоплётства пустотелого.

Ведь все уже давным-давно написано,
К любому повороту жизни сказано, -
Любая тема будет просто слизана,
Лишь только по-другому напомажена.

Зачем, переставляя буквы заново,
Изобретать велосипед рифмованный?
Строчить под даты, дни, людишек - планово,
За томом том писать непубликованный?

Любая баба "кровь" с "любовью" мучает,
Студент - про вейпы, про котов, про форточки,
ИИ поэмы травит просто кучами, -
И все сидят на стихотворной жёрдочке.

Какое все дерьмо! Закройте краники!
А коли ж пишется - пишите ПРОЗОЮ!
Житейской, горькой, без нытья и паники.
Стихи - то у Есенина с березою!

Katerina Strucenko

Autumn is packing a valise to leave:
Tea set, a vase and a book lacking pages,
Cranberry-filled twisted croissant (the sleeve
Of the sweatshirt got the stain, now for ages).

Then comes a camera, the "Arch..." by Remarque,
Some yellow leaves, and a gentleman's portrait,
His dandy tail-coat he left in the park,
Someone's lost sneakers she found by the port's gate.

Autumn is packing a suitcase: her stole,
Pulled off from shoulders - a cobweb-made softness,
And a guitar - copper strings. For her soul
She valued most; without it she feels homeless.

Maples stand bare encircling a bench,
First modest snowflakes are spinning and falling...
Autumn is gone. Au revoir! - say the French,
Gone are the tears and faults. Stop recalling.

Dmitry Moldavsky

That the fire can cut the steel, waters wear out the stone,
I was taught in my childhood, but got it, when I was grown.

Half a century long is my life, I have seen it so much:
Burning hard, solid stones and the soft, flowing steel as such.

I was breathing this haze, I was gulping this witching brew -
Steel has flowed in my soul, petrifying my heart all through.

And the more I exist - the less of the fire I need,
For my inner waters to boil at a furious speed.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/moldavskiydm/1184

Andrey Ledashev
The Cities

Walls are collapsing, the oil burns around,
Shards of the windows crunch under my boots,
It's not ME breaking Bakhmut to the ground -
It is Bakhmut ruining me to the roots.

Shellings and mines, smoking cars, soot and dust,
Roar of the guns on the land, on the sea.
After the storm, when the evil got bused,
You, Azovstal, stay like shrapnel, in me.

Memory mourns for the battles and fights,
Fueling the flames of the soul-hidden grief.
Tears for the friends, gone for their last flight,
Dry, leaving Soledar salt on my sleeve.

Don't be afraid, as the city is clear,
Three-colored flag flutters proudly above.
This is Avdos - so remote and so near,
This is Avdeevka. Fly free, my dove.

Peski, Tokmak, Chasov Yar and Slavyansk,
Krasny Liman, Lysychansk and Toretsk.
Fighting for Russian Donetsk and Lugansk,
Soldiers shed blood in Lugansk and Donetsk.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/pozled/955

Neal Sornyakov

The fog. The night.
No sky, no land.
No soul in sight.
Let's go, as planned.

The hundred boots
Crunch down the ice,
As God us routes
In fog disguise.

Troops on the way:
No sound, no light.
Leave back the pain,
Leave back the fright.

Leave all the dear
Behind your vow:
The fight is here,
The fight is now.

The night and fog,
The ice so thin.
We'll strike the foe
Unwaited, mean.

And if they wait
For us to come -
We meet the fate,
God beats the drum.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/nilsornyakov/775

Кстати, почему-то многие боятся, что ТГ заблокируют, посему делают себе дубли в других сетях. Я так делать не буду, потому что считаю, что ТГ не заблокируют, а вникать в новые сети не хочу. По этой же причине нет меня ни в ВК, ни с Х особо не получилось, хотя что-то там пыталась ковырять пару недель. Но этим нужно прямо специально заниматься, а мне это не нужно.

И еще. Посчитайте это эксцентричностью и глупостью, но в какой-то момент я удалю всех своих подписчиков. И кому канал действительно нужен и интересен сможет спокойно подписаться снова. А кому не нужен, и подписка была исключительно по призыву "подписывайтесь" - те и не заметят ничего.

Нас станет сильно меньше, но мы станем честнее.

Andrey Khalturin
You have to have an Enemy

If people want to go,
Or plan a rebel scheme,
You should invent a Foe,
To write all bad off him.

And even if the "Foe"
Is nothing but a naught,
Ephemeral and faux -
Strike while the iron's hot:

Build something like "maidan",
Bullshit works extra fine.
Put tents across the lawn,
And call the friends online.

The Enemy should flee,
Be strangled and burned out,
Robbed of all rights and plea, -
In this YOU should not doubt!

"Crush everything that's red!
Who's not with us - be gone!"
Let yellow-blue instead
Now flutter, leading on.

The sunset's yellow-blue,
The yellow-blue is dawn,
All asphalt roads be, too
In blue and yellow drawn.

Babies and old, it seems,
Under the two-shade glow,
Share the blue-yellow dreams...
Blood is still red, though.

Rabble respects no law,
Rabble just wants to rule:
Blow in the willful jaw
Drowns you in bloody pool.

Bodies - unfaced and stiff,
Crippled, lie on the street.
Nation is torn, as if
Someone has pressed "delete".

Who is this new Adolf,
Mongering wars abroad?
Someone is playing golf,
Thinking he's acting God.

Clown plays the Servant role,
Pastry-cook prays for fun.
Nation has lost control.
Who is to blame? No one?

Minds are confused for years,
Basements are far too small.
Night generates the fears,
Day might not come at all...

https://news.1rj.ru/str/KhalturinAG/1090

Anna Dolgareva

The worn dugout, wood-panelled from inside,
Was called a "bungalow" by a lieutenant rightly,
While several Octobers richly dyed
the space around with leaves and pressed them tightly.

The heavy foliage carpet on the ground
Smells of the powder, smoke, raw soil and dampness.
A bug is munching wood with rustling sound,
And the offensive goes with flawless sharpness.

He fights - this young lieutenant - from the year
Of twenty-second. He is tired, as many.
Till late we sat with him at table here,
And ginger cat was playing as would any...

The Vernicle was watching from the wall,
The blinking bulb and silent radio felt pleasant.
The world was sinking in the white this Fall:
Its finish and beginning, past and present.

And leafing through the recollection pages,
No matter of the origin and ages,
There's nothing you can see, except the bright,
Immense, unending, white and pure light.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/dolgareva/961

Polina Orynyanskaya

With misfortune you always stay face-to-face,
Whether talk of it or keep in.
Whether crowded or lonely - you find no place,
Diving deep in the gloom within.

But inside there are walls. Knocking on that walls
Ask and answer yourself: "Who is there?"
Life around still exists, still it somehow crawls...
And you wish you could smash yourself, tear, -

Then to treat yourself with some bands and med,
Iodine, oily herbs that cure...
It's because the hard tocsin inside your head
Never stops and you have to endure.

After that you should float, being all alone.
Be a hero among the men.
Birth and death, and the pain - are the things YOU own,
They are personal burden. Amen.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/stihi_orynianskaya/1062

Artyom Ragimov

From the Soviet Information Bureau:
The Germans are defeated, trampled and humiliated!
Behind the Dnieper all what they've destroyed
Will be rebuild, restored and fixed by them - as stated.

Those, who were left lying on the ground,
Turn into grass this spring.
Never again they will come around,
Teaching us everything!

Swept them all out with the iron brooms,
Rubbing the fingers till bleed -
Never again to see spreading fumes
From houses burned and killed kids.

From now send the postcards - not the soldier's mail,
Sing glory to fathers and sons!
Odessian women won't be dying in jail,
Tortured by polizai with the guns...

With happiness full are the souls of the workers and peasants,
Joy comes to the brim, as the Victory was so awaited!
Civilian people are safe! Done with alien malfeasance!!
Capitulated!

All our folk has become brothers in Christ,
Starting it all from scratch.
You heard it right - even those who despised,
Found themselves faithing in much.

Rivers of milk, porridge, cloudberry, happy fuss,
Breath of the stars from the breast...
Well, only good news today for all of us,
People can have some rest.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/temvremena/296

Natalia Makeeva

We are returning into History -
In spite of all, we make it true.
"You should not have..." - they cried out hastily,-
...Raised troops for fighting, nasty you!"

We have, again, become so troublesome,
As we stand up to our full height.
We take what's ours, native, coming from
The blood relation, by the right.

And our choice is plain and obvious:
Collect the scattered fragments back,
Pull us together from the ruinous,
That left us lonely in the dark.

Born in the vastness of Geography,
Beneath the shining Northern star,
We are returning into History,
And thunder loudly: "Here we are!"

https://news.1rj.ru/str/nmakeeva/247

Хлебъ
Day of Sorrow

A quarter past eight. Time is up, work is done,
No need to prove anything to anyone.
And young Mister Tibbets, not sensing the weight,
Is pressing the PTT, feeling quite great.

The plane is returning, landing not badly,
All men on the Base are applauding gladly.
Why there should be doubts, or such nonsence as conscience?
The flash of the sun is unseen to that audience.

He is a soldier; the order is more important
Than lives of thousands, sent to Hell at instant.
No matter kids or old, civilians or not -
Sailors, maybe, who knows - no way to afterthought.

"Time will make it equal. The Victory is above all",
But what they don't know, and what's NOT in their protocol,
That the white crane, taking off from the roof,
Is sending a message to those, not aloof:

To those, whose ears are not filled with the acid of lies,
The orphans of Nippon, who've been keeping the plot in disguise:
"When the time passes and the enemy believes
That we are no harm, that we forgot our grieves,

We will be close, standing elbow to elbow,
Looking in the eyes of descendants, (although
They might have not being born yet, when we planned
To take revenge for the tortured Japanese land).

After all, not a single fat American
Will put on the ADM packpack, leave his beer can,
And shout in face: "This is for my Motherland!
For the unborn kids, for the mutilated by command!"

And THEN, THEN, finally, the retribution will be accomplished,
And what they have been afraid of - conducted.
Eventually, the point is not in the yankee-noddy,
They are just the bearers of the greedy body -

The bloated body of the ruling leaders,
Professional brainwashers and the bullshit-feeders,
Who easily seduced you with the tales,
And led the fools along the shaky trails,

Promising them idols: money, comfort and fame,
What could they wish else? Who is to blame,
That they have betrayed their babies and kids,
Throwing them in the claws of those centipedes...?

Poor them! Only used out of boredom,
They will be just thrown away, as the used condom.
That"s why, mister, forgive and goodbye,
Nothing to add here. Tenno Heika BANZAI!!!"

https://news.1rj.ru/str/HlebDvornik/273

Знаете, я вот все стесняюсь и стесняюсь - но, вдруг, кто-то из подписчиков захочет поздравить меня с новым годом. Не имею права не дать Вам такой возможности :)
Спасибо!

2202206794318670
(Мой сын Мирослав)

Neal Sornyakov

How to wait and keep silent - we know,
And we know how to work real hard.
"Black berets" - you are right, bro,
We are Russian Marines, your guard.

We are sent to the stormy site,
And it's not always far in the sea:
When at war - we arrive and fight,
Pushing forth till the way is free.

In Donbas there's no sea, only mud;
Ground is washed away by the rain.
Somewhere here hides the nazi crud,
But we'll get it out from its drain.

You say, English is heard on the air?
Foreign language attracts the ear...
We fight mutely, bro, and don't care,
If the enemy squeals near.

We fight mutely and we fight cruel:
Strike of bayonet under the belt.
Let him screech, if he's got the fuel,
Not for long, anyway, I bet.

He shoots back, bastard, point-blank,
As I moor close to him, grabbing tight.
Look, he lies in the dirt, found his rank,
English mercenary, f*cking knight!

If he yelps something nasty or rude,
Sensing his speedy forthcoming finish,
I will tell him: "Goodbye, earthworm food!",
Which means "Shut your hole up!" in English.

https://news.1rj.ru/str/nilsornyakov/206

С наступающим новым годом!