Впервые решил поучаствовать в [club133026981|"Поэтических перекрёстках"]. Нет, вру....

For the first time I decided to participate in [club133026981 | "Poetic Crossroads"]. No, I'm lying.

More than a year ago [id3123996 | Andrey Demyanenko] invited me as a musician to one of the "crossroads". I immediately remember the black guitarist who met the Devil at the crossroads (Walter Hill film).

But then it doesn't count: I played the strings while the poets were composing poetry to my music and on the theme of paintings ...

The other day I wrote poetry myself.

I chose three of the proposed paintings. Two works by [id595937440 | Eva Darnichanka], and one by [id19443542 | Maria Perevoshchikova].
It was a compliment for me to hear from Maria that with my poem I reflected "her state of mind when painting a picture."

I must say that I have not participated in such games for a long time: the last time it was in LITO "Contact", which was hosted by Yuri Astakhov (there was not even a trace of VKontakte yet). Do you feel how much water has flowed under the bridge since then?

I'm not sure I will do this often. I'll say one thing: it's a good training and motivator. To run the poetry engine. You don't always want to write poetry, you know - you don't always pay attention to the call from within.

Thanks to Andrey Demyanenko (one of the organizers of Poetic Crossroads) and the artists who submitted their works for the project!

UNTIL MORNING
(on the painting by Eva Darnichanka)

- Girl, give me a ball!
- I can not. You will swallow it, giant.
- Not! We'll be together in the meadow
pass it, dance the cancan
under the moon...
- C the moon and play!
- Do you want to stand on your knees?
You even want to take your soul !!!
Just play with me ...

... By the morning
the sky turned white like chalk.
The cries of birds burst into the silence.
Girl with a sword on a broomstick
rushed over the ground. As he fell down,
how the giant prayed and cried -
The devil remembered.
There was a game.
There was everything - and a joyful cancan,
and jumping and screaming until the morning!

Childhood is not about bringing you back.
Childhood - how you want to squeeze
ball! And get to Hell for it.
And not a bit sorry for the soul ...

- Girl, give me a ball!
- I can not...

The Devil is dancing in the meadow again.

***
(on the painting by Eva Darnichanka)

The Devil is dancing in the meadow again.
To the world of the Middle Ages through the peephole
looking at the door.
What a pity there is no key!
I could barely reach with an eye
and see the executioner's dwelling,
the dragon that walked around like a dog.
The spire crossed the moon like a scar.
The whole world of the Middle Ages is inscribed in a circle.
I knew I wouldn't sleep until dawn
and I will listen to the complaints of cats,
and the sick executioner's snoring is a window
open wide. The scaffold is ready.
The day will come and the blood will be on the canvas
will spill. Like a ball, head
roll at the feet of the ladies of the court
and noble dons, and rumor
will go about being small beyond his years
there was a prisoner - a poor fellow and a poet -
he should live and live, and sing songs!
... And the girl will cry: - No more
dragon!
This is what I regret
I can now, taking the world through the peephole,
like air - enjoying it all!
My fantasy, which I could
amuse you, albeit a little bit completely ..

***
(on the painting by Maria Perevoshchikova)

Crystals, as if you were ripped out of a rainbow
and scattered across the sky.
You formed into the mountains and so sparkled,
that the eye cannot be taken away. I would, I would
to be among you - to walk on the peaks
and fall as a shadow on the ground.
I dream about this, and this is the mess,
that I am molded in my likeness,
like people I am, small and not flying,
God made us human.
But it will break free, I believe, the soul - to beckon
that light to rush!
The soul is a lioness!
Bite into crystals, aching
sparkle with them,
bathe in the light
when will you jump
on the side of that!