• Beat him with the hand and. Riddle They beat him with a hand and a stick - No one feels sorry for him. Why are they beating the poor guy? And for the fact that he is inflated. Resting in a lair in winter

    18.07.2023

    Great about verses:

    Poetry is like painting: one work will captivate you more if you look at it closely, and another if you move further away.

    Little cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creak of unoiled wheels.

    The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which has broken.

    Marina Tsvetaeva

    Of all the arts, poetry is most tempted to replace its own idiosyncratic beauty with stolen glitter.

    Humboldt W.

    Poems succeed if they are created with spiritual clarity.

    The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is commonly believed.

    If only you knew from what rubbish Poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion near a fence, Like burdocks and quinoa.

    A. A. Akhmatova

    Poetry is not in verses alone: ​​it is spilled everywhere, it is around us. Take a look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life breathe 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. Not our own - our thoughts make the poet sing inside us. Telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He is a wizard. Understanding him, we become poets like him.

    Where graceful verses flow, there is no place for vainglory.

    Murasaki Shikibu

    I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in Russian. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. Because of the feeling, art certainly peeps out. 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 yourself?
    - Monstrous! Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
    - Do not write anymore! the visitor asked pleadingly.
    I promise and I swear! - solemnly said Ivan ...

    Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"

    We all write poetry; poets differ from the rest only in that they write them with words.

    John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"

    Every poem is a veil stretched out on the points of a few words. These words shine like stars, because of them the poem exists.

    Alexander Alexandrovich Blok

    The poets of antiquity, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. It is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times, a whole Universe is certainly hidden, filled with miracles - often dangerous for someone who inadvertently wakes dormant lines.

    Max Fry. "The Talking Dead"

    To one of my clumsy hippos-poems, I attached such a 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 critics. They are but miserable drinkers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let the verses seem to him an absurd lowing, a chaotic jumble of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from tedious reason, a glorious song that sounds 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 but pure poetry that has rejected the word.

    *** He makes noise in the field and in the garden,
    But it won't get into the house.
    And I'm not going anywhere
    As long as he goes. (Rain) *** What is in front of us:
    Two shafts behind the ears
    In front of the wheel
    And a saddle on the nose? (Glasses) *** The blue house at the gate.
    Guess who lives in it. The door is narrow under the roof -
    Not for a squirrel, not for a mouse,
    Not for the spring tenant,
    Talking starling. News is flying in through this door
    They spend half an hour together.
    The news does not stay for a long time -
    Flying in all directions! (Mailbox) *** She set to work,
    She screamed and sang.
    Come on, come on
    Oak, oak,
    broke
    Tooth. tooth. (Saw) *** We always walk together,
    Similar as brothers.
    We are at dinner - under the table,
    And at night - under the bed. (Boots) *** They beat him with a hand and a stick.
    Nobody feels sorry for him.
    Why are they beating the poor guy?
    And for the fact that he is inflated! (Ball) *** Early in the morning outside the window -
    Knock, and ringing, and confusion.
    On straight steel tracks
    There are red houses. Run to the outskirts
    And then they run back.
    The owner sits in front
    And kicks the alarm with his foot. Turns deftly
    Handle in front of the window.
    Where the inscription "Stop"
    Stops the house. Every now and then on the playground
    People enter from the street.
    And the hostess in order
    Gives everyone tickets. (Tram)
    *** Who, on the run of a pair of clubs,
    blowing smoke
    pipe,
    Carries forward
    And myself
    Yes, and me with you? (Train)
    *** Ask me
    How I work.
    around the axis
    I spin mine. (Wheel) *** Its spring and summer
    We saw dressed. And in the fall from the poor thing
    They ripped off all the shirts. But winter blizzards
    They dressed him in furs. (Tree)
    *** Was green, small,
    Then I became scarlet.
    I turned black in the sun
    And now I'm ripe. Holding on to a cane,
    I've been waiting for you for a long time.
    You eat me and the bone
    Bury in your garden. (Cherry) *** On New Year's Eve he came to the house
    Such a ruddy fat man. But every day he lost weight
    And finally completely disappeared. (Calendar)
    *** We walk at night,
    We walk during the day
    But nowhere
    We won't leave. We hit right
    Each hour.
    And you, friends,
    Don't hit us! (Watch)
    *** In the Linen country
    Along the River Bed
    The ship is sailing
    Back, then forward.
    And behind him such a smooth surface -
    Not a wrinkle to be seen! (Iron)
    *** Musician, singer, storyteller,
    And all - a circle and a box. (Gramophone)
    *** In the snowy field on the way
    My one-legged horse rushes
    And for many, many years
    Leaves a black mark. (Feather) *** I am the most lively worker
    In a workshop.
    I prick that there is urine
    Day-to-day. How I envy the couch potato
    What is lying around without use,
    I'll pin it to the board
    Yes, how I will knock on the head! The poor thing will hide in the board -
    You can barely see his cap. (Hammer and nail) *** I only keep on the go,
    And if I do, I will fall. (Bicycle) *** He is your portrait,
    Looks like you in every way.
    Are you laughing -
    He laughs too.
    you jump -
    He jumps towards you.
    cry -
    He cries with you. (Reflection in the mirror) *** Although he did not leave for a moment
    you from the day you were born
    You didn't see his face
    But only reflections. (You yourself) *** We are similar to each other.
    If you make faces at me
    I make faces too. (Reflection in the mirror) *** I am your comrade, captain.
    When the ocean is angry
    And you wander in the dark
    On a lonely ship
    Light a lantern in the darkness of the night
    And consult with me:
    I will swing, I will tremble -
    And I will show you the way to the north. (Compass) *** Stands in the garden among the pond
    A column of silver water. (Fountain) *** In the hut -
    Hut,
    On the hut -
    Pipe. I lit a torch
    Put it on the threshold
    Noisy in the hut
    Buzzed in the pipe. People see the flame
    And it doesn't extinguish. (Bake)
    *** I am your horse and carriage.
    My eyes are two fires.
    Heart warmed by gasoline
    Knocking in my chest. I wait patiently and silently
    On the street, at the gate,
    And again my wolf voice
    Scares people on the way. (Car) *** Here is a green mountain,
    It has a deep hole.
    What a miracle! What a miracle!
    Someone ran out of there
    On wheels and with a pipe,
    The tail drags behind itself. (Steam locomotive) *** From the dungeon of a hundred sisters
    Released into space
    Take them carefully
    Rub your head against the wall
    Strike deftly once and twice -
    The head will light up. (Matches)
    *** My heart buddy
    In a tea trust, the chairman:
    All family in the evening
    He treats with tea. He is a tough guy,
    Swallows wood chips without harm.
    Although not large in stature,
    And puffs like a steam engine. (Samovar) *** Wooden road,
    She goes up slowly:
    Whatever step -
    That is a ravine. (Step-ladder) *** How the four brothers went
    Somersault under the trough,
    Carried me with you
    On the pole road. (Four wheels) *** Behind the glass door
    Someone's heart is beating
    Quiet so
    Quiet so. (Hours) *** Along the paths, along the paths
    He is running.
    And give it a boot -
    He flies. They throw him up and sideways
    In the meadow
    They butt his head
    On the run. (Ball) *** We caught our river,
    They brought her home
    Fired up the stove
    And swim in the winter. (Plumbing) *** Like a leafless branch,
    I am straight, dry, thin.
    You met me often
    In a student's diary. (Unit) *** There is a boy in my house
    Three and a half years.
    He ignites without fire
    There is light throughout the apartment. He clicks once -
    We have light.
    He clicks once -
    And the light went out. (Electric light bulb) *** I rule a horned horse.
    If this horse
    I will not put on the fence,
    He will fall without me. (Bicycle) *** She lets me in the house
    And he gets out.
    Locked up at night
    She keeps my dream. She is neither in the city nor in the yard
    Doesn't ask for a walk.
    For a moment look into the corridor -
    And back into the room. (Door)

    Marshak riddles







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