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Verse bow to veterans of the Great Patriotic War read

Heart as if on fire -
Gray hair at the temples.
The past has flown away
But the soul is in tears.

Soldiers in the battle for the Motherland
We went step by step.
They believed in Victory sacredly -
The enemy did not break them.

The groan stood all over Russia:
Hunger, torture, fear.
Death obliquely mowed down people
In villages, cities.

Retreated in forty-one
With horror in my chest
- Machine guns, tanks, where are you?
With what to go into battle?

Died in a meat grinder
The Fritz walked like a wall...
But the Germans did not know Russians,
A terrible battle awaited them.

For birches and hillocks,
For a native home.
For the Caucasus, Kuban and Volga,
For the great Don.

To all the soldiers who fought
Our low bow...
For the soldiers who fell in battle -
Bell ringing...

1 month ago

SONG ABOUT EXPECTING THE FALL OF THE NATIONALIST CRIMINAL SYSTEM IN THE STATE AND CIVIL SYSTEM OF UKRAINE:

"DO NOT THINK ABOUT THE MOMENTS UP...
THE TIME WILL COME, WE WILL UNDERSTAND PROBABLY...
THEY WHISTLE LIKE BULLETS AT THE TEMPLE:
FALLS, FALLS, FALLS...

FALLS COMPRESSED IN YEARS,
FALLS COMPRESSED IN MOMENTS...
AND WE DON'T UNDERSTAND SOMETIMES
WHERE IS THE FIRST FALL, WHERE IS THE LAST...

EVERYONE, IN THE FALL, HIS REASON,
YOUR BELLS, YOUR MARK,
FALLS BETRAY: TO WHOM THE SHAME,
TO WHOM INGLORY, AND TO WHOM THE TEACHING ..

RAIN IS WEAVED FROM MANY FALLS...,
COMES FROM THE NEWS "WATER" - ORDINARY ...,
AND WE SOMETIMES, ALMOST, SIX YEARS ALWAYS WAIT ...,
WHEN IT COME, ITS FALL...

IT WILL COME BIG AS A SIP ...,
A SIP OF WATER, DURING THE POWER CHANGE...,
IN GENERAL, YOU NEED TO REMEMBER YOUR ENDLESS DEBT...,
FROM THE FIRST FALL TO THE LAST...

DON'T THINK ABOUT THE MOMENTS UP...
THE TIME WILL COME, WE WILL SEE PROBABLY...
THEY WILL PASS, AND SHOW INTO THE TIME OF YEARS:
FALLS, FALLS, FALLS..."

Heart as if on fire -
Gray hair at the temples.
The past has flown away
But the soul is in tears.
Yu.Drunina

I am twenty years old. I am leaving my native village, having stayed at my father's house for ten New Year's days. Dad accompanied me to the train on a horse harnessed to a beautiful painted wagon. All around white-white, the snow sparkles and plays with highlights in the sun. For the first time I talked to him about his past, about the war. It was the only frank and sincere conversation with his father in his entire life. Very bitter, but neither he nor I ever had enough time for intimate conversations. The road is long, and at first my father slowly answers my questions, then he talks about the war and life himself. Orders, medals, a wound in a naval battle in the Gulf of Finland, the reason for moving to their native lands, although deaf, but clean and quiet. He has no regrets. We will grow up and move to the cities, and he and his mother will stay here, there is no better place for old people in the whole wide world. What about the war? War…

Can you imagine the speed of a torpedo boat? … knots! And you ride on hundred gallon cigar barrels full of gasoline and you know - the slightest spark and you are ashes. The delight of speed drowns out even the fear of the upcoming battle. We sank twice: two destroyers - two awards! Once they knocked us out - it was hell ... We got out by a miracle, the guys from the other boat picked up. You saw the wound, remember in childhood you asked for everything, dad, show me? And how many children died! Oh, move your feet, dear! he shouted at the horse and waved the reins. His eyes sparkled with youth.
I imagined a picture of a battle, torpedo boats rushing through the mortar fire of the enemy, and somehow suddenly everything immediately penetrated into my heart.

Naturally, he and his brother in early childhood asked their father about orders, and he, of course, told why and when he received them. Short. Modestly.
Why not about war and fighting? Because they did not ask their father about them. Because they were overloaded with the history of the Great Patriotic War from an early age. Great war, great deeds. Songs, poems, literature, compositions. The names of generals, the names of Heroes... The pathos of their greatness overshadowed the names of ordinary soldiers of this war - her father and mother. Did they have enough official honor and respect? Maybe. There was a lack of sincere understanding by their own children of the hell of war through which they went with their comrades.

Mom only once, after a persistent request, told me about how she got into the war. First - to a unit near Leningrad, where they were fed frozen potatoes. Then there was Kronstadt, blown by icy winds, where she once froze almost to death on duty with a rifle in her hand. Mom recalled how the Germans dropped incendiary bombs from airplanes on the warehouses guarded by them, the girls, which had to be extinguished in time, otherwise the warehouses would explode. Mom talked about the hungry besieged Leningrad, about their own eternal hunger ... and about love ... such young girls could not help but fall in love with brave sailors, despite the war and death, and the sailors, never knowing about it, did not return from battle ...
And there was no pathos in her story, even when she spoke about the long-awaited Victory Day. Such is Victory Day - with tears in his eyes.

Of course war is hell. Father remembered this hell over a glass of vodka alone, usually on the third day after any holiday. Over the previous two days, his soul had time to relax and open up to memories, where there was the happiness of youth mixed with the horrors of war. Mom, my brother and I have long been accustomed to this traditional memorial day and ... did not pay attention, regretting only that this prolonged drinking was ruining his heart. And my father sat alone at the table in front of a glass and talked to himself about the war, dead comrades and cried. Sometimes my mother, freed from housework, would sit down next to her, and my father would happily turn to her, and my mother would quietly ask:
- Vanya, maybe that's enough ... Again the war, again the blockade ... No need to reopen wounds ...
- Do you remember how you did not return from the battle ... let's remember them ...
“I remember, Vanya, I remember,” my mother answered sadly, “but I won’t pour more. Your health is not enough to remember everyone.
Sometimes I walked past my father into my room, who did not like to see him in this form - tears do not suit men. And the exhausted father was already whispering after her: - Daughter ... grew up ... - and smiled happily ...
She would have come up to him, hugged him and kissed his graying head, but she, a stupid girl, shed tears over other heroes.
And only on this road to the station did I realize with all my being that her father is a Hero, a simple ordinary Hero great war. Thank him for having him. It's only a pity that I didn't say those words to him again.

I will die, I will crawl even on my knees to Kronstadt! - With inexpressible sadness, the father said quietly, ending this heart-to-heart conversation.
"We'll go there together," I promised him.
In the hustle and bustle of life, she never kept that promise.

Today I would definitely hug and kiss my father, take him to Kronstadt, but for a long time neither my mother nor my father is near me. Forgive me, my dear and beloved dad and mom ... simple ordinary toy terrible war who liberated our country. Today is Victory Day. I can only put a candle in front of your framed portraits and quietly say: we, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, remember you sacredly and are proud of you.

I am familiar with the war from books and old movies and paintings.

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I am familiar with the war from books

And old movies and paintings.

There are no dead in this war in the family,

But the memory in the family is alive ...

Hopes didn't come true

Dreams didn't come true

The war prevented them from coming true.

Instead of studying - work until you sweat,

Short sleep and work again.

All forces for the front

For our victory.

For peace on this good planet

War is horror

War is a groan

War is the cry of mothers

Loss of fathers

And a house full of orphans

Ruin and hunger all around.

War is not needed neither for you nor for me,

The neighbor doesn't need it.

So I want to live in a peaceful land,

And do not know what war is.

Panarina Alexandra

5th grade student

in the trench

We are so tired of the war
From death, explosions and from pain.
We miss the silence
Family and home share.

Blood has become common
She pours into the ground without counting.
And we attack again and again,
Sleep is almost impossible.

We are so tired of the war
From this crazy "work".
Everything for the Victory, for the country,
Today there is no other concern.

A trench for us and a table and a house,
We spend days and nights in it.
Before the attack, we drink one hundred grams,
For some, death closes their eyes.

Let's share the tobacco
With friends before a difficult fight.
- It's better to go into battle on an empty stomach, -
The company commander taught us before formation.

And dawn rises above the earth,
Summer comes and goes.
Who will give people a simple answer:
War and death - why do we need this?

Fight on high

High-rise fight, scary fight
And hardly anyone will be able to survive.
From horror the soul goes numb:
Nobody wants to die.

And the enemy is coming at us with a wall:
He can't do it any other way.
His face turns white with rage.
Tired of the enemy, too, to fight ...

The whistle of bullets, fragments of fractional knock.
Snow is mixed with the ground, smeared with blood.
The fighters are in terrible pain:
The circle of our life is closed.

No chance to survive, no clue:
The vise of death is so tenacious.
How to sell life more expensive?
More enemies to take to the next world ...

It's a pity we won't see the victory
She will come home without us.
Who needs to stay alive
Fate will give you a ticket.

bell ringing

Yesterday is gone.
What happened a year ago is long forgotten.
What happened many years ago
Heavy rains are washed away from thoughts.

On the day of remembrance it is supposed to cry,
After all, it is difficult to remember the fallen every day.
We must not forget the tragedy
And the dead must be commemorated.

Seek forgiveness from widows and mothers
For the fact that they failed to save the dead.
For building life without death,
Unfortunately, we didn't make it.

How to make the memory live in us,
For every date to have obelisks?
So that the country remembers these dates,
Doubts are not allowed in thought.

We have had trials - do not count:
What will Russia be like in years to come?
Let the bell ring throughout the earth
The living and the dead will finally judge.

tribute to WWII veterans

Heart as if on fire -
Gray hair at the temples.
The past has flown away
But the soul is in tears.

Soldiers in the battle for the Motherland
We went step by step.
They believed in Victory sacredly -
The enemy did not break them.

The groan stood all over Russia:
Hunger, torture, fear.
Death obliquely mowed down people
In villages, cities.

Retreated in forty-one
With horror in my chest
- Machine guns, tanks, where are you?
With what to go into battle?

Died in a meat grinder
The Fritz walked like a wall...
But the Germans did not know Russians,
A terrible battle awaited them.

For birches and hillocks,
For a native home.
For the Caucasus, Kuban and Volga,
For the great Don.

To all the soldiers who fought
For the soldiers who fell in battle -
Bell ringing...

Our low bow...