Авторський рейтинг від 5,25 (вірші)
2025.11.15
13:36
Ще, напевне, мене пам'ятає
та, що знає – між нами війна,
та луною у небі витає:
« Це вона... це вона... це вона...»
І якби не дароване фото,
що не відаю, де заховав,
то не вірив би, нехотя, хто то
невідправлений лист написав,
та, що знає – між нами війна,
та луною у небі витає:
« Це вона... це вона... це вона...»
І якби не дароване фото,
що не відаю, де заховав,
то не вірив би, нехотя, хто то
невідправлений лист написав,
2025.11.15
10:30
Як я ходив іще у семінарську школу
Була особа там, напучувала, буцім
Як оце звернутися до Бога молитвою
Звернутися до Бога молитвою
Звернутися до Бога молитвою
Ти не у змозі звернутися до Бога молитвою!
Хто надасть мені притулок? Місце, де ховатис
Була особа там, напучувала, буцім
Як оце звернутися до Бога молитвою
Звернутися до Бога молитвою
Звернутися до Бога молитвою
Ти не у змозі звернутися до Бога молитвою!
Хто надасть мені притулок? Місце, де ховатис
2025.11.15
10:16
Я - мов раб...
Близькість з котрим
компрометує.
Ти - наче
високопоставлена
Персона...
Не дай Боже,
побачать
Близькість з котрим
компрометує.
Ти - наче
високопоставлена
Персона...
Не дай Боже,
побачать
2025.11.15
09:10
Заради забавки — маклює.
Заради вибриків — клює…
І один одного вартує,
Як жаль, по-правді, не моє…
Зірвали б куш і розділили б.
Третину їм, а решту тим,
Хто так охоче насмітили
Своїм замовленням «святим»…
Заради вибриків — клює…
І один одного вартує,
Як жаль, по-правді, не моє…
Зірвали б куш і розділили б.
Третину їм, а решту тим,
Хто так охоче насмітили
Своїм замовленням «святим»…
2025.11.14
22:47
Є ще люди на білому світі.
що не вимерли у суєті
і несуть із минулого дітям
естафету доби неоліту,
де малюють горшки не святі.
ІІ
Із минулого бачу сьогодні
що не вимерли у суєті
і несуть із минулого дітям
естафету доби неоліту,
де малюють горшки не святі.
ІІ
Із минулого бачу сьогодні
2025.11.14
21:53
Самотній пожовклий листок
Упав на підлогу печально.
Як човен у морі думок,
Лежить він один безпричально.
Самотній пожовклий листок -
Це лист невідомо від кого.
Проклав невідчутний місток
Упав на підлогу печально.
Як човен у морі думок,
Лежить він один безпричально.
Самотній пожовклий листок -
Це лист невідомо від кого.
Проклав невідчутний місток
2025.11.14
12:58
кров застрягає в жилах
треба її розганяти
додивитися старе порно
чи сміття винести з хати
у фейсбуку брудними словами
напишу старому політику
як дожити із цими козлами
треба її розганяти
додивитися старе порно
чи сміття винести з хати
у фейсбуку брудними словами
напишу старому політику
як дожити із цими козлами
2025.11.14
12:55
Коли на біле кажуть чорне,
а світлу застує пітьма,
линяють коміки – придворні
і зеленаві, зокрема,
яким аплодували хором,
а нині кожного підряд
охоплює іспанський сором
за збочений електорат,
а світлу застує пітьма,
линяють коміки – придворні
і зеленаві, зокрема,
яким аплодували хором,
а нині кожного підряд
охоплює іспанський сором
за збочений електорат,
2025.11.14
12:46
От-от почнеться літо.
Буде спека, інколи аномальна.
Ми готові до цього. Як завжди.
Важке дихання міського асфальту.
Сонце від якого наїжачуються перехожі
Дивляться сердито і втомлено
Висихають та вигорають.
І цей шум, гудіння, грім.
Буде спека, інколи аномальна.
Ми готові до цього. Як завжди.
Важке дихання міського асфальту.
Сонце від якого наїжачуються перехожі
Дивляться сердито і втомлено
Висихають та вигорають.
І цей шум, гудіння, грім.
2025.11.14
12:19
Мій секс на відстані –
прекрасна річ.
Приходьте подивитися –
це варто,
хоча б тому,
що сперма б’є ключем
і йде «запліднення у ваших душах».
Ви не гидайтеся,
прекрасна річ.
Приходьте подивитися –
це варто,
хоча б тому,
що сперма б’є ключем
і йде «запліднення у ваших душах».
Ви не гидайтеся,
2025.11.14
12:09
У Росії немає своєї мови,
чуже ім’я, чужа і мова,
своє – матюк та жмих полови,
в їх словнику свого – ні слова…
До них слов’яне із хрестами
своєю мовою ходили,
німих Христовими устами
молитись Господу навчили.
чуже ім’я, чужа і мова,
своє – матюк та жмих полови,
в їх словнику свого – ні слова…
До них слов’яне із хрестами
своєю мовою ходили,
німих Христовими устами
молитись Господу навчили.
2025.11.14
10:36
Дорога (цикл сонетів)
І.
Вела дорога в дощ і в спеку
Між різнотрав'ями узбіч.
Мітли чи списа біле древко -
ОпЕртя, і нічого більш.
І.
Вела дорога в дощ і в спеку
Між різнотрав'ями узбіч.
Мітли чи списа біле древко -
ОпЕртя, і нічого більш.
2025.11.14
08:28
За поповнення, за поновлення
Вип’ю чарочку знову з друзяками…
А знеболення і оновлення
Будем порівно гризти з собаками
Тую кісточку, що без тістечка
Я смоктатиму а не гризтиму
Ну а стрілочка… свіжа вісточка:
Друзів втриматись я проситиму…
Вип’ю чарочку знову з друзяками…
А знеболення і оновлення
Будем порівно гризти з собаками
Тую кісточку, що без тістечка
Я смоктатиму а не гризтиму
Ну а стрілочка… свіжа вісточка:
Друзів втриматись я проситиму…
2025.11.13
21:46
Уже не літо, а зима.
Фатальне листя облітає.
Так неминучості тюрма
В кайданах болісно тримає.
Зима гряде, немов тиран,
Змітаючи усе навколо.
Я прикладатиму до ран
Фатальне листя облітає.
Так неминучості тюрма
В кайданах болісно тримає.
Зима гряде, немов тиран,
Змітаючи усе навколо.
Я прикладатиму до ран
2025.11.13
19:42
Вже двісті літ минуло з тих часів,
Як москалів у поміч запросив
Богдан. Наївно, мабуть сподівавсь,
Що цар московський справді поміч дасть.
Та, де ступила лапа москаля,
Там, він вважа, що вже його земля.
Тож помочі від них було на гріш
Та вже г
Як москалів у поміч запросив
Богдан. Наївно, мабуть сподівавсь,
Що цар московський справді поміч дасть.
Та, де ступила лапа москаля,
Там, він вважа, що вже його земля.
Тож помочі від них було на гріш
Та вже г
2025.11.13
19:19
люди говорять а не зна ніхто
чому тебе я покохав ото
мовби старатель злотоносний пісок
ґо танцюймо добрий час зійшов
ей
багато хто живе в полоні мрій
ретельно бруд ховаючи у рукаві
Останні надходження: 7 дн | 30 дн | ...чому тебе я покохав ото
мовби старатель злотоносний пісок
ґо танцюймо добрий час зійшов
ей
багато хто живе в полоні мрій
ретельно бруд ховаючи у рукаві
Останні коментарі: сьогодні | 7 днів
2025.09.04
2025.08.19
2025.04.30
2025.04.24
2025.03.18
2025.03.09
2025.02.12
• Українське словотворення
• Усі Словники
• Про віршування
• Латина (рус)
• Дослівник до Біблії (Євр.)
• Дослівник до Біблії (Гр.)
• Інші словники
Автори /
Наталя Бліхар (1988) /
Проза
The prayer of violin
Matthew walked quickly along the street. Expression of his face signified that he didn’t care where he went exactly,-he wanted only to be alone. An easy frost dried up an asphalt and it became slippery, that’s why the boy ticked by the sneakers as if heels were hooked on to them. Leaves from greek nuts(although still green) fell off already. They fell down on to his head, shoulders…
The air was fresh, clean with the aroma of those nuts.
Matthew even felt cold a little as far as he was dressed in one velveteen shirt. On the shoulders he had a backpack with which he was going to boarding-school. His fingers were easily penetrated into by cold and that is why the boy from time to time holded them in fists and raised them to lips, blew on them. But then he hid them in the pockets of jeans.
Young man quickly passed from a street to street, lost in crowd and “came up” where less people were. It seemed that he was like other, but…
Passing through a park Matthew slowed the step and walked up to one of free bench, by which pigeons walked cooing. These sounds reminded the cat’s purring. The fellow began to look on that, how birds as though pushing off from each other found some seeds. Not far away some not young woman was walking with her dog. Dark glasses on her face signified that she was blind. The two lovers were nearby. A boy whispered something to the girl’s ear and she smiled at him in reply. Yes, she was happy.
On other bench a young mother set with her little daughter and plaited her gold hair. The girl asked something and the mother, satisfied with her, answer her in adult way.
Matthew was lonely . The boy felt, as though in other world separate from these people. He wanted to shout to their world but couldn’t. Matthew was mute. The boy looked around again. He could never call a dog, shout on it or to praise it. The dog will not understand his sings. He never would be able to say the girl the words of love, not able to pour out to her his soul and he would not be able to read fairy-tale for his own child befor sleep.
Matthew looked on the sky. Grey , gloomy clouds moved on it. His eyes were filled with tears. Why was it so hard to him to live in this world? Why so hard?
A hot tear rolled down his cold face. The boy took a scarf from his neck and wiped his eyes with it. This scarf… That was his mother’s scarf. He didn’t remember when she came to him in boarding-school, then she brought him some things. Among them was this scarf. He still smelled her perfume. The boy tried to keep this smell. Matthew didn’t remember how his mother looked, but he knew that she will come again. She must come…
Young man took off backpack and took out the violin, and played it. Faint, sweet and sad melody spread around the park. It flowed in frozen air and as if flying up in the sky. It seemed, the people, who always hurried somewhere suddenly started walking slower, listening to music. In these moments Matthew didn’t think about anything, he simply didn’t exist. He was completely devoted to playing. It seemed that his soul moved into his violin. The melody filled out the whole alley, park, town… The doves moved faster, turned around like tops. Matthew played and played without stopping.
Suddenly the birds frightened flew up. The young man stoped playing.
- Sharik, Sharik?! – called woman, who walked the dog, she stood looking around for her favourite animal.
Matthew put down the violin on the bench and ran after the dog. In a minute he was tying the scarf around its neck. The boy tooked him to woman, who still was calling her dog. Matthew simply handed her scarf and wanted to go but woman stoped him.
-Are you this boy, who played the violin so skillfully? –she asked and kept silent expecting an answer. Matthew didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t answer, because he was numb, could’t nod, because knew that she was blind. They were quite for some minutes and this time seemed endless.
- If this is you, please, play again,- woman said finally.
Mathew rushed to the violin and began to played. The woman walked up and sat down alongside. But in minute she stopped him, touching his shoulder.
- At home I have the same violin. Can you go with me and play the music together?
And not waiting for an answer, she stood up and went down an alley leading the dog alongside. The boy took his packback and followed her. They walked silently. Woman time from time pulled scarf and shouted at the dog. The young man walked next to her and thought: why he agreed to go with this woman and how he would reply when she ask him something again. They
walked up to old five-storied building, which was not far from the park. Matthew noticed that the staircase was dirty. Old, wooden steps creaked and it seemed that they can fall down any moment. It stinked with pharmaceutical stuff there. The dog stopped in front of one door and barked.
- Just a second,- woman calmed down the dog, took the keys out and opend the door. Matthew was surprised that the flat was clean, air was fresh and smelled with known perfume.
The woman closed the door, let the dog go and it disappeared in the next room. The boy walked and looked around hoping to see somebody else.
- I live alone, - said woman as if reading his thoughts, - Yes, I am completely alone. I have a son, but he lives separately.
The woman walked up to the сloset that stood in corridor and took out the violin. She started to play.
It was something undescribable! Matthew had never heard such a great play. As if was not an old, blind woman, who played, but skillful master. The woman stopped playing.
- Why don’t you play? – she asked and touched strings with fiddlestick. The young man played obidiently. Their violins merged as if two big waterfalls merge into one vigorous river. Its water was clean, warm and sweet ready to break free and flow into boundless ocean fellings. Time stopped, only music continued to sound. They played till the evening.
Matthew was surprised, why this woman doesn’t ask him anything , she even doesn’t try to hear something, as if she knows everything about him.
- You play well, - she only said, - but in your playing there is so pain and sorrow. I know, it can be one method to get rid of pain, but it is not the way out. I so tired of that too, but I understood at last the following. Even, when I ask: “ Oh, my God, why it is so hard? “ , He continues to love me. Do you understand? It is wonderful to know that you are necessary for someone, that someone loves you, that you are loved by God! He is alongside…always… I cannot see him as cannot see you, but I feel you with my heart. I can talk with Him always, even when I play on the violin. I love Him.
Woman brought the Matthew’s scarf to the her mouth. Yes, those were her parfume.
The fellow went out on the street and breathed in clean, frosty air. It smelled with the leaves of greek nuts. He looked on the sky and smiled. There were many bright stars. The familiar music trembled in the air.
The violin played through the opened window…
• Можлива допомога "Майстерням"
Публікації з назвою одними великими буквами, а також поетичні публікації і((з з))бігами
не анонсуватимуться на головних сторінках ПМ (зі збігами, якщо вони таки не обов'язкові)
The prayer of violin
Matthew walked quickly along the street. Expression of his face signified that he didn’t care where he went exactly,-he wanted only to be alone. An easy frost dried up an asphalt and it became slippery, that’s why the boy ticked by the sneakers as if heels were hooked on to them. Leaves from greek nuts(although still green) fell off already. They fell down on to his head, shoulders…
The air was fresh, clean with the aroma of those nuts.
Matthew even felt cold a little as far as he was dressed in one velveteen shirt. On the shoulders he had a backpack with which he was going to boarding-school. His fingers were easily penetrated into by cold and that is why the boy from time to time holded them in fists and raised them to lips, blew on them. But then he hid them in the pockets of jeans.
Young man quickly passed from a street to street, lost in crowd and “came up” where less people were. It seemed that he was like other, but…
Passing through a park Matthew slowed the step and walked up to one of free bench, by which pigeons walked cooing. These sounds reminded the cat’s purring. The fellow began to look on that, how birds as though pushing off from each other found some seeds. Not far away some not young woman was walking with her dog. Dark glasses on her face signified that she was blind. The two lovers were nearby. A boy whispered something to the girl’s ear and she smiled at him in reply. Yes, she was happy.
On other bench a young mother set with her little daughter and plaited her gold hair. The girl asked something and the mother, satisfied with her, answer her in adult way.
Matthew was lonely . The boy felt, as though in other world separate from these people. He wanted to shout to their world but couldn’t. Matthew was mute. The boy looked around again. He could never call a dog, shout on it or to praise it. The dog will not understand his sings. He never would be able to say the girl the words of love, not able to pour out to her his soul and he would not be able to read fairy-tale for his own child befor sleep.
Matthew looked on the sky. Grey , gloomy clouds moved on it. His eyes were filled with tears. Why was it so hard to him to live in this world? Why so hard?
A hot tear rolled down his cold face. The boy took a scarf from his neck and wiped his eyes with it. This scarf… That was his mother’s scarf. He didn’t remember when she came to him in boarding-school, then she brought him some things. Among them was this scarf. He still smelled her perfume. The boy tried to keep this smell. Matthew didn’t remember how his mother looked, but he knew that she will come again. She must come…
Young man took off backpack and took out the violin, and played it. Faint, sweet and sad melody spread around the park. It flowed in frozen air and as if flying up in the sky. It seemed, the people, who always hurried somewhere suddenly started walking slower, listening to music. In these moments Matthew didn’t think about anything, he simply didn’t exist. He was completely devoted to playing. It seemed that his soul moved into his violin. The melody filled out the whole alley, park, town… The doves moved faster, turned around like tops. Matthew played and played without stopping.
Suddenly the birds frightened flew up. The young man stoped playing.
- Sharik, Sharik?! – called woman, who walked the dog, she stood looking around for her favourite animal.
Matthew put down the violin on the bench and ran after the dog. In a minute he was tying the scarf around its neck. The boy tooked him to woman, who still was calling her dog. Matthew simply handed her scarf and wanted to go but woman stoped him.
-Are you this boy, who played the violin so skillfully? –she asked and kept silent expecting an answer. Matthew didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t answer, because he was numb, could’t nod, because knew that she was blind. They were quite for some minutes and this time seemed endless.
- If this is you, please, play again,- woman said finally.
Mathew rushed to the violin and began to played. The woman walked up and sat down alongside. But in minute she stopped him, touching his shoulder.
- At home I have the same violin. Can you go with me and play the music together?
And not waiting for an answer, she stood up and went down an alley leading the dog alongside. The boy took his packback and followed her. They walked silently. Woman time from time pulled scarf and shouted at the dog. The young man walked next to her and thought: why he agreed to go with this woman and how he would reply when she ask him something again. They
walked up to old five-storied building, which was not far from the park. Matthew noticed that the staircase was dirty. Old, wooden steps creaked and it seemed that they can fall down any moment. It stinked with pharmaceutical stuff there. The dog stopped in front of one door and barked.
- Just a second,- woman calmed down the dog, took the keys out and opend the door. Matthew was surprised that the flat was clean, air was fresh and smelled with known perfume.
The woman closed the door, let the dog go and it disappeared in the next room. The boy walked and looked around hoping to see somebody else.
- I live alone, - said woman as if reading his thoughts, - Yes, I am completely alone. I have a son, but he lives separately.
The woman walked up to the сloset that stood in corridor and took out the violin. She started to play.
It was something undescribable! Matthew had never heard such a great play. As if was not an old, blind woman, who played, but skillful master. The woman stopped playing.
- Why don’t you play? – she asked and touched strings with fiddlestick. The young man played obidiently. Their violins merged as if two big waterfalls merge into one vigorous river. Its water was clean, warm and sweet ready to break free and flow into boundless ocean fellings. Time stopped, only music continued to sound. They played till the evening.
Matthew was surprised, why this woman doesn’t ask him anything , she even doesn’t try to hear something, as if she knows everything about him.
- You play well, - she only said, - but in your playing there is so pain and sorrow. I know, it can be one method to get rid of pain, but it is not the way out. I so tired of that too, but I understood at last the following. Even, when I ask: “ Oh, my God, why it is so hard? “ , He continues to love me. Do you understand? It is wonderful to know that you are necessary for someone, that someone loves you, that you are loved by God! He is alongside…always… I cannot see him as cannot see you, but I feel you with my heart. I can talk with Him always, even when I play on the violin. I love Him.
Woman brought the Matthew’s scarf to the her mouth. Yes, those were her parfume.
The fellow went out on the street and breathed in clean, frosty air. It smelled with the leaves of greek nuts. He looked on the sky and smiled. There were many bright stars. The familiar music trembled in the air.
The violin played through the opened window…
• Можлива допомога "Майстерням"
Публікації з назвою одними великими буквами, а також поетичні публікації і((з з))бігами
не анонсуватимуться на головних сторінках ПМ (зі збігами, якщо вони таки не обов'язкові)
Про публікацію
