Treasure Island

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

(6 June 1799 – 10 February 1837 / Moscow)

Comments about Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

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  • Koena Mokoena (10/29/2011 3:45:00 AM)

    Good morning!

    I am one of the young up & coming poet from South Africa, hence i want to comment on your poem titled.. I loved you.. It reminds me of my love, because i had difficult challenges when i was in love, but after i read it, i felt like i can express myself better than before & that is great for me as a young person. Keep up the good work Sir! you are an inspiration to the nation. Can i come & visit you this festive season? Because next year, i am invited to an Indian ceremony to recite my poems to an Indian audience... We need grandfathers like you, in order for us to be successful.

    Have a nice day!

    Yours in South Africa.
    Mr. Koena France Mokoena
    Cell : +27710329734
    E-mail: kfmproductions@yahoo.com
    Website: www.poemhunter.com/kfmproductions

    17 person liked.
    14 person did not like.
  • Galina Rudenco (7/14/2011 1:42:00 AM)

    Alexander Sergheevich was born to bring love to all this world and to prove that life is a Noble fight, which makes a man- Man and garanty him Eternity.

  • Kainwo Moses (5/22/2009 8:49:00 AM)

    Brutally honest-great!

  • Steven Willow (5/22/2004 2:09:00 PM)

    there is nothing stronger then words of wit.whatever you do please do not quit.for this is the way to haveing the power.so keep it up hour by hour, as a poet your work is never complete.untill the time comes that we must take a seat.if and when it comes into your life.just remember how your few words helped with all of lifes strife. for there is only one thing we cannot not ever measure.thats how we can get a little bit of pleasure.you just keep on doing your thing.and sit back and watch the pleasure it does bring.thank you and may god bless us all.steven willow.

Muse

In my youth's years, she loved me, I am sure.
The flute of seven pipes she gave in my tenure
And harked to me with smile -- without speed,
Along the ringing holes of the reed,
I got to play with my non-artful fingers
The peaceful songs of Phrygian village singers,
And the important hymns, that gods to mortals bade.
>From morn till night in oaks' silent shade
I diligently harked to the mysterious virgin;

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