Вадим Головченко - Poetry

© Вадим Головченко, 2021

ISBN 978-5-0055-4410-0

Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero

******

Still have not found the time

Many of those that I was taught.

More than distant people, indifferent,

Doubtfully leave them without excellent ones.

Between the lines

The flame goes out in the night.

In addition, you all the same, sit at your place and wait, when the moon touches the house from the sky,

Will leave a glint in it on the correct lines.

******

Whether it can jump up for seconds in person,

Having come up with your own dot or dash,

Space, at the same time, without taking the meaning away from the words, without leaving, as is customary, the lines.

******

They will close their passage forever,

Everything will come out badly, if it does not see the income,

Asks, at the same time, looking at close range,

Are you really, that beloved home of mine? /

I had one wife

However, it is not longing at all

She wanted to torment on this score

The mind in its answers fool me

Significantly tormenting me with advice,

I gave her my picture, looked at it

Learning that I am in debt all this time,

I have already looked at the shadow of her portrait.

For me there was the one I called my wife who called herself «The Gloomy Day?»

She set by my cozy coach

The spaghetti she then cooked

On the sofa, we were that I offered her beloved – the my Disgrace

While longing the last meal

I was already blind and stopped,

By Shadow silhouette, her of that.

We are actually in the centerfold of the magazine’s newspaper,

In the actually living crypts of the very ones, we used to know,

With those, in fact, we were in debt to the topic whom we completely forgot, and everything in one

Place is connected in the vicissitudes of events of thoughts and facts.

For this, you can find out.

That we could create such a dream.

In the sense that we were delirious,

Such anyone will be recognized as the core

Of that that in nature we ourselves have arranged such a game so legally.

In addition, they will mark themselves

With any actions in secret – they will not forget from us.

I could figure out that this was not it.

However, she still achieved everything she wanted!

I wish you would love me for that!

Then take your favorite pencil case and pen in your pen!

With pencils, felt-tip pen, and pen!

Draw my thinnest border, souls!

After all, you are an artist of your own portrait,

A portrait from which today, let’s say openly, I am very much in doubt

So take a pen, in your lovely pen,

In addition, write, something to me,

From which to yourself

At least for one time it would be better for you,

For your friends and everyone else with whom I loved to spend my time without you!

Instead of a hundred favorite words to the place of that very wonderful poem,

I would sell you, the souls of those who just left!

The street we all love, a fabulous, wonderful, beautiful street,

Which you would hardly name today.

The crows ate autumn Longing overshadowed our friendship

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