Posts from Poems...

PRAYER

You want to know the sorrow of despair,
You no longer want to lie,
But you weren't even given a word.

You are silent again,
Silence surrounds us,
Who is to blame, whose fault is it,
How much more despair, how much more loss.

You don't get tired of writing,
Every day, new lines,
And now you are writing again,
But dreams are still far away.

This world is filled with lies and deceit,
And all words are like rivers – murky water,
That over time has become an ocean.

But I no longer want to lie,
I want to be sincere and pure,
But who will be able to understand you,
And drive away the bad thoughts!!

I see that SEM_56 is in a philosophical mood right now... well, I'll say a few words too. When your heart is full of resentment, And you're ready to burst into a cry, When everything suddenly becomes unbearable, Stop, freeze for a moment. And look with loving eyes At the one who is too close, With whom you've shared more than a pound of salt, The way you looked at them in your youth. Resentment and doubt will fade away, And a string of clichés will follow. Insignificant, petty, worthless Life's hustle and bustle will seem. And it will cast off the mask of time, Like a phoenix that is alive even in ashes, The beloved image that we carry In our hearts, sometimes forgetting about it. That's how it is... a phoenix.

Yes, that's how it is....

The roses have withered, the flowers without you
And everything I was given, I must forget.
The radiance of smiles, your gentle laughter
Burning embraces are not meant for everyone.
The sweetness of breath, again your smile
All that was, but not for me.
Everything I wanted, I couldn't believe
And again a smile, dreaming in a dream,
And hearing your voice, your gentle laughter
You dream again, not believing in an answer.
But still I hope, I wait and I love
And I believe in victory, that I will find you.

I sometimes write poetry too... Here's something that came to me just now – it's a bit abstract, but I hope you understand the modest philosophical theme and enjoy it...

People, eradicating their vice,
By chance, overturned the scales,
They let greed into their home,
And might destroy themselves in the process.

Sins, repentance, and pain…
What role is hidden in truth?
Let the king overthrow another king,
Their souls are always empty, a void…

And the nights have become darker,
Dreams are hidden behind a colorless veil,
And you, as before, await the dawn,
Wishing to gain freedom sooner…

Around, only darkness, a silent space,
The sad adornment of a blind winter…
Spreading your wings, you lower them again,
And your blood grows cold.

Broken dreams… and ideals…
The altar is covered with a snowy shroud.
And the heart desires kindness and light,
But emptiness will not give an answer…

Love? A wonderful creation!
The achievement of great forces,
It existed before words,
Truly, we are just toys in the hands of the Gods…

But I do not desire to love or believe,
Sometimes I am afraid to trust myself
To those hidden desires and passions,
I just want to be forgotten!

(As an epilogue)

Salvation is within you, it always was,
Seek its light in your soul,
And do not let your doubts
Become another darkness for it!

One of my very old poems, written back in 2003...

ANASTASIA
I know a girl who is beyond description,
So beautiful and pure, like the heavens above.

Your smile is like a star, your gaze like a cloudy evening,
How beautiful and bright you are, like the heavens above.

Your lips are full and soft, like velvet to the touch,
Your words are like the songs of nightingales, so sweet to hear.

You have a wonderfully beautiful soul and a stunning appearance,
You are one of a kind, a warm evening for a cold winter.

I want spring to know, and all the birds in the world to sing,
There is only one girl like you, and her name is ANASTASIA.

I slow down the pace of time…when you are near
And I speed up the hands…if you are not
Let the heart melt…warming with a glance
There are questions…but is an answer needed?
I beg time not to rush
I don’t always want to let go
But the drops of time flow like water
You leave…but that’s not a problem
I know the truth…probably a simple one
My love cannot pass you by
I am not jealous of you and that life
My destiny…is to love only you

A POEM ABOUT A BATTLE IN HEROES 5
Author: JackFromShadowLand
Before the Battle
Dawn breaks early today,
It's summer, after all,
We woke up strangely,
Wild fear awakened us.
The fearsome Shriek and Banshee's Wail
Make us tremble
And no one would wish
To wake up so early.
But a momentary confusion
Quickly passes, not in an hour!
Minotaurs, like salvation,
Once again instill courage in us!
Obeying all commands,
We line up for battle,
Lizards, as if on cue,
Spread out in an arc.
Hydras came running,
And archers are at hand,
They loaded their crossbows
With a poisonous arrow.
Behind the mistress of the night,
They help the Hero,
Casting spells beyond measure,
Performing feats of magic!
Now dragons clashed in the sky,
Black ones are not afraid of them!
All the spectral ones perished,
The dragons' horde burned them all...
The battle begins,
But not about it this time,
You can't write such a poem
Without embellishment...
The Battle
Our Hero, a powerful mage,
A very glorious sorcerer,
Wants - lightning from the clouds,
Wants - a waterfall of fire...
Now the ghosts and liches are ablaze,
But the vampires are attacking,
Changing their appearance.
A sword pierces the hydra's body,
And the ghoul comes back to life,
Very skillfully and deftly
The Hero throws a block of ice.
A chain of elementals! Beautiful!
Ghouls fell to the ground,
Although zombies walk crookedly,
Furies got into a dead end.
The gleam of blades, the maidens weakened
Archers' shot, death again,
Sows the seeds of destruction
The whirlwind of the Necropolis...
Bang! And the hydras are under control.
The Necromancer is not dozing.
But our Hero sends
The lich squad into oblivion.
Harbingers destroy dragons,
Flame in response from fire.
Minotaurs chop into pieces
Zombies are gone...
The Necromancer and his horde
Retreat from the battlefield,
But we need to
Pick up our dead until the end...
After the Battle
Evening with dark shadows
Enveloped the forest, in this darkness
Sadness reigned among us,
The pain of loss burns in the soul...
Only one dragon remained,
Brothers, sisters have fallen,
He didn't even try to save them,
All of them were burned by the harbingers...
Wolves howl, smelling blood,
Assassins stand aside
Brewing poison, slightly casting spells,
So that the arrow flies straighter.
Furies light a fire,
Their song is bitterly vengeful,
The words of the song go up
Upsetting the clouds.
The flame brightly rushes upwards
Now only to burn the dead
The Necromancer has already learned
To steal skeletons from graves
The battlefield is ours again,
And the Hero is probably glad,
But can you describe in words
This battle, this Hell!
How fireballs exploded,
Sparks scattered from the eyes!
How skills were activated,
Dying for the tenth time...
Ah, but what are memories!
The question is: to live or not to live!
And there is only one desire
Not to let the undead pass further!
Tomorrow we will go on the attack again,
Although there are few troops now,
Our Hero is ready for the fight
And the dragon will increase the chances...

Hello everyone. These poems were written by my brother, Punk Pashtet.

Are You a Punk?

You have unconventional ideas
in your head,
For example, to skip school
and not go home,
But go for a walk
or drink beer with friends,
To get
more positivity in life.

You are probably a Punk
or you consider yourself one,
Tell me how
you understand this word.
What have you done yourself,
Tell me now, without pretense,
Tell us all,
what you intend to do next.

Will you smoke weed,
drink beer and have fun.
Then what's the point of living,
maybe you should just shoot yourself.
You are probably a Punk
or you consider yourself one,
But everything is not as it seems,
you don't understand everything correctly.

Look at the world,
what can change in it,
if you
just drink, smoke and have fun.
So come on,
stop with these stupid things,
if you are a Punk, then know,
DIY is the foundation of everything.

And you, brother,
shouldn't be angry with me.
Do something yourself,
and we will have fun together.
We will relax,
we will drink beer with friends,
we will get
twice as much positivity.

The rain lives in me.

The sky is torn by lightning scars.
I like this rain,
and the wind, rustling like waves,
and the fine tremor
of pure, holy water,
washing away the dirt from the world.
And I stand under the thunderstorm,
to fully enjoy it.

Cold splashes beat
on my skin, scarred with wounds.
How much the rain resembles
the thoughts of rebellious minds,
dreaming of changing the world,
cleansing it of pain and dirt.
And the rain continues to live
in phrases that beat like drops.

Freedom or death

To overcome the tired soul
and ignite a flame in your heart.
I decided for myself that it is better,
better to stand under the black banner.

I have always sought the meaning of life,
often stumbling upon walls.
Yes, there is only one path to victory,
one path – to destroy the system.

What is there to be afraid of, why,
life in a cage is worth nothing.
Don't regret it, give it your all,
put your will into a worthy cause.

No to state ghettos!

He called himself an anarchist,
an unyielding fighter for freedom,
and they, branding him an extremist,
locked him up behind bars, you bastards.
But on the wall of his dirty cell
a phrase is scratched with a brick somewhere,
a phrase that has absorbed the meaning of life
– No to state ghettos!

He didn't go to the barricades,
he didn't throw grenades at tanks,
he just lived, not merging with the herd,
like real punks live.
And on the wall of his dirty cell
he scratched the words of an answer,
a phrase that has absorbed the meaning of life
– No to state ghettos!

If you like the poems, comment)). And I also have a link to his website in my signature. There you can download a book with poems written before July 2007. New poems can also be found on the website.

You're sitting at work, In a dusty, stuffy office. And you're busy with something like – Thinking about the news. Then Putin appears on TV And says something outrageous! You think about the crisis And even start to get angry. You rush home, Back to your computer, So angry, You raise a ruckus on your blog. What a bunch of idiots! How hard life has become! I'm the smartest of all, I know how to fix everything. I'll invest all the money, Solve all the problems, Close all the deals, Punish all the morons. You're boiling with rage, Clicking your teeth loudly, Adjusting your glasses, And munching on a sandwich. You spill tea on the table. Oh well, it happens. You wipe your shirt with your sleeve, Stretched tight over your body. The whole internet is full of fools: Everywhere you look, there are schoolchildren and students. They spew nonsense on forums, Like patients from an asylum. Not a gram of intelligence; They shout and laugh – what fools! My great program Will cleanse the minds of children. If I were president Of our wretched country, Every family in Russia Would be protected by the law. I would quickly boost industry, Solve problems in the south; Losing all ambiguity, I would raise salaries for people. I would shake money out of Ukraine, And kick out all the "hachis." In short, you'd solve The problems of the whole planet. You sit there quietly Muttering everything under your breath. Your little son hears you And asks a question: "Tell me, dear papa, Why didn't you become So rich, And a smart president?" Calmly, you give a well-rehearsed answer: "Son, you have to understand, Connections are needed." "I wasn't born into that kind of family, There was ruin, no money." Satisfied with the explanation, He quickly shuffled off to the toilet. Now you live quite normally. You're not hungry, you're not depressed. You go to your office regularly, And sleep with your wife once a week. You eat almost without restraint, You've even grown a little belly. But a month later, in a dark park, A junkie stabs you with a knife.

Dear forum members, poets! I am addressing you with a request. Do you have any poems that are dedicated to offline heroes? The fact is that the certificate, which is currently being developed and will be presented to the winners at the end of the year based on the results of the season, lacks just such a poem, which we would very much like to include. Unfortunately, I am not a good poet, so I am turning to you. P.S. I think three or four quatrains would be just right. Sincerely, VDV_forever

VDV_forever, while at work, I quickly sketched out one version...

New Year and the chime of the clock,
Which is akin to bells,
It's time, after playing Heroes,
To take stock.

There were different tournaments
And for different versions
Now it's time to find out on HW
The best offline gamer

He is clearly the one who knows best
The intricacies of the game
He crushes hordes of neutrals
More skillfully than others

He conducted reconnaissance in advance
And planned the route
He mastered it like a science
The secrets of the walkthrough.

P.S. - the second quatrain is out of sync; of course, you can swap lines 6 and 7... but I'll leave it to your discretion (everything was according to the 8-7-8-7 pattern, except for these two lines).

VDV_forever, while I was at work, I quickly put together one version...

New Year and the chime of the clock,
Which is similar to bells,
It's time, after playing Heroes,
To sum up the results for us.

There were different tournaments
And for different versions
Now it's time to find out on HW
The best offline gamer

He is definitely the one who knows best
The intricacies of the game
He crushes hordes of neutrals more skillfully than others

He conducted reconnaissance in advance
And planned the route
He understood it like a science
The secrets of passing.

P.S. - the second quatrain is a bit off, of course, you can change lines 6 and 7... but I don't know, it's up to you (everything was according to the 8-7-8-7 pattern, except for these two lines)

Thank you very much, wolf64, you saved the day!

Sincerely, VDV_forever

New Year and the chime of clocks,
Resembling the sound of bells,
A time for bright celebrations,
And gifts for the Masters!

There have been various tournaments,
Who is the best in Offline play?
On HW, there are guidelines
For those who deserve the Title:

He is clearly the one who knows best
All the intricacies of the game,
He taught us (but that's not a sin)
How to defeat the dragons of darkness,

How to conduct reconnaissance in battle
And calculate the route of movement,
He explained what formation we should use,
And how to find the secrets of the walkthrough.

Now, finally, the time has come
To name the Offline master,
May this name, in the New Year,
No longer be a secret.

Honor and glory to the diligent mind!
Offline is not just a puzzle for those
Who are not lacking in logical thinking,
The path of a Master may be difficult, but it is prestigious!

The New Year and the chime of clocks,
Which is akin to bells,
A time for bright accelerandos,
And gifts for the Masters!

There were different Tournaments,
Who is the best in Offline?
HW has benchmarks
For those who deserve the Title:

He is clearly the one who knows best
All the subtleties of the game
He taught us (but that's not a sin)
How to defeat the dragons of darkness,

How to conduct reconnaissance in force
And calculate the route of movement
He explained what formation we should use,
To find the secrets of the Walkthrough.

Now the time has come
To name the Offline Master,
Let this name in the New Year,
No longer be a secret.

Honor and glory to the diligent mind!
Offline is not just a puzzle for those,
Who are not stingy with logic from God,
The path of the Master is difficult, but prestigious!

Many thanks to JackFromShadowLand for the excellent poem!

P.S. Once again, I am convinced that there are not only excellent players and good friends on HW, but also real poets!:smile41:

Sincerely, VDV_forever

Crocodile's poems are magnificent!!!! Everyone should admire them!!))

"I sit
And think about how wonderful it is
To look at life through human eyes
And tears flow not in vain
A ray of light falls on the soul

I look
And think that everything is unfair
Life is cut short, everything happens by chance
But this bridge, this place
Our childhood, how sad…

I pondered.
About life, I looked out the window
I saw the forest and the birds were singing
A serenade under my window.
And I saw the goals of my life

I saw
And went out to look at the forest, but snow and ice
Rose before my bare feet
And the light pours, and the light pours
And warms the soul with sad verses.

I foresaw
The end of the poem and went to live
The life given to me by the Almighty
Although I don't believe in God, fate cannot be changed
Light will pour in the magical silence…"