Today I'd like to write something in that way -
I'd like to write some lines and rhymes today...
But lines don' t wish to stay in order, they
Like a disorder, like to mix, to mesh, and
The mix is not looking like a verse,
It's like a simple, and unbeautiful row of words...
The sounds of the man's speech sometimes are loud -
If he cries;
Sometimes - are silent, if he whispers, as a snake,
And when I'm putting signs of letters on the white paper field -
I'm in doubt,
Whether my words in the verses would be then spoken silent or loud...
Eveybody wishes to have the loud voice and verse,
But sometimes that are not the correctly rowed, lined words....
Lyudmila Purgina's Other Poems
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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