Poems about autumn months. November
November-Leaf. It's getting cold. , more and more often it charges with a fine rain without a break, fogs are drawn in. The name of the month is Leafy, because the trees shed their last leaves. The weather, especially, seems cold with rain and sleet. Nature is ready for winter. Here comes the snow.
Poems about November
G. Sorenkova
Freezing wind in November
Cold cold:
He is in the morning
Met with a cold.
A cloud of blue sky
Closed from the ground
And autumn grass
Frost covered.
Ice on the puddle glitters
The puddle freezes.
This winter is rushing to us,
Autumn accompanies.
L. Lukanova
The rain is pouring like a bucket,
The kids are at home.
All November frowns
It's cold outside
N. Samoniy November.
This autumn has become stricter,
The day is getting worse and worse.
The wind is cold, terribly angry.
The birds said goodbye to us.
A. Metzger
November - we can't take a walk,
Now the frost burns, then the wind cries.
The bear will go to sleep in the lair,
Wait - winter is coming to us, that means.
White specks of snow fell
whitened the tracks.
Trampled on the bench
little white cat
but November- plasterer
knows his business
he is on black houses
does not spare chalk.
Closed for repairs
blizzard master,
stuffs snow on the collar
baby to each other.
Fences in white hats
lights and pipes
tied a white scarf
monument gloomy.
Will you share
exhale-inhale with a pillow,
and winter whiten all night
will be white
N. Kapustyuk
Flood "worldwide" outside the window!
My house set sail.
And with him I, sister and cat,
Aquarium, dog Toshka,
Seryozhka is a friend, he is my neighbor ...
And the rain is around, and there is no sun!
You can't even see the horizon!
And the house also needs an umbrella:
Water above, water below...
We're sailing to no one knows where!
Checking the calendar -
Forward! For winter! By November!
T. Kersten
Apple and plum trees are bare.
Our autumn garden looks dull.
Outside the window, then rain, then cold snow.
Gloomy, uncomfortable for everyone.
The sun sank in the puddles of November.
But we will not be angry with him for nothing.
Prepare skis, sleds and skates.
Winter days are coming soon.
A. Fukalov
November rain and snow
The forest is all gloomy.
Every person knows
That November is unprepossessing.
In November the trees sleep
Autumn garden nailed down by rain.
The rain will end. Then,
She will cover the snow with her carpet.
Riddles about November
The field became black and white:
It rains, then it snows.
And it got colder
Ice bound the waters of the rivers.
Winter rye freezes in the field.
What month, please?
In November, ice puddles
Mirror shine will bring
Outside the window and along the edges
We will hang feeders
And feed the bullfinch
On the threshold...
(Winter)
Who does not let us warmly,
Does the first snow scare us?
Who calls the cold to us,
You know? Of course yes!
Not scratchy, light blue
Hung in the bushes...
(Frost)
Not snow, not ice
And he will remove the trees with silver.
(Frost)
The clouds are catching up
Howls, blows.
Roaring around the world,
Sings and whistles.
(Wind)
Flying, not a bird
A howl, not a beast.
(Wind)
Proverbs and sayings about November
In November, there are seven weathers in the yard: it sows, blows, crushes, stirs up, roars, pours and sweeps from below.
A month of short days and long nights.
Autumn is losing ground, giving way to winter. November is the last month of living water.
Snowy November rides out on a piebald mare.
In November, the frost settles down.
November is an off-road vehicle: either snow, or mud, or mud, or snow - neither the wheel nor the skid can move.
In November, it can rain in the morning, and in the evening it can snow in snowdrifts.
November - September's grandson, October's son, brother in winter.
In November, the peasant says goodbye to the cart, climbs into the sleigh.
November mi December frost is tarovat.
In November, dawn meets dusk in the middle of the day.
In November, autumn - a fat woman with an evil one - fights in winter.
In November, the snow will inflate - the bread will arrive.
November nights are dark before the snow.
In November, winter fights with autumn.
November is the gate of winter.
November is the twilight of the year.
In November, the first solid snow falls overnight.
In November, the sun smiles through tears and "white flies".
In November, the warmth of the frost is not a decree.
If the sky cries in November, then winter will come after the rain.
Mosquitoes in November - be a mild winter.
Whoever does not get cold in November will not freeze in December either.
No wonder in November white flies (snow).
Do not forge the river in winter without November - a blacksmith.
The smithy is small in November, but forges fetters on all rivers.
November is a semi-winter season: a peasant says goodbye to a cart, climbs into a sleigh.
We develop by playing
Artists' paintings
Efim Volkov "Early snow"
I. Brodsky "Late autumn"
Levitan "Autumn. Road in the village"
Isaac Ilyich Levitan "Late autumn. Manor"
Shishkin I.I. "First snow"
Nilus P. A. "Autumn"
Kiselev A. A. "Autumn. Windy day"
Panin Sergey "First snow. November"
Ya. Zyablov "November"
I. Levitan "Autumn"
Vyacheslav Vasilyevich Karakhanov "November"
Nechaev Alexander "November. The river freezes."
Gremitskikh Vladimir "November"
Belov Sergey Aleksandrovich "November. Evening"
Vitaly Makarov "November in Zheleznovodsk"
Vishnevsky Andrey "Early November"
In the twilight of November riddles
1. She rewarded everyone, ruined everything. (Autumn.)
2. The tub is old, the tire is new.
I am water and I swim on water.
It does not burn in fire, it does not sink in water. (Ice)
3. White Tikhon is knocked down from the sky, where he runs, he covers him with a carpet. (Snow.)
November Proverbs
Autumn legs are dark before the snow.
There is no change from autumn to summer.
November paves the way for winter.
In November, winter and autumn fight.
One frost does not bring winter.
Whoever does not get cold in November, does not freeze in December either.
The forge is small in November, but forges fetters on all rivers.
November nails, and December bridges.
signs of november
In November, the first solid snow falls overnight.
Hoarfrost on trees - to frost.
Fluffy frost - to the bucket.
Cloudy cold weather clears up by night - there will be frost.
In November, it will blow snow - bread will arrive, water will spill - hay will be typed.
Long November twilight - to bad weather, short - to good weather.
Mosquitoes in November - be a mild winter.
Sparrows hide in brushwood - in the cold or before a snowstorm.
The bullfinch whistles - winter will come soon.
“The hares' fur has turned white - winter is coming.
Clear cloudless weather in November is a sign of an imminent drop in temperature.
If November is clear and the weather is dry -
So it will be dangerous for next year's harvest.
If the first autumn snow falls so that it hangs from the roofs, then it will soon melt.
If snow falls on wet ground in November, then it will remain for the winter, if it falls on dry ground, it will soon come down.
If snow falls in autumn when the trees have not yet shed their leaves, then it will soon melt.
In ancient Rome, November was called "november" (from the Latin word novem, which means nine). And in Ancient Russia, November was also originally the ninth month. From the 15th century until 1700, it ranked third in the year. Having become the penultimate month of the year at the beginning of the 18th century, November did not change its name.
One of the ancient Russian names for November is “breast”, because this month the frozen earth lies in heaps on the roads, it is difficult to drive - that’s why November is also “off-road”. They called the eleventh month and "leaf-mowing": wind and frost complete the golden mowing of the last leaves.
About the short, cold, gloomy, dim, cloudy and foggy days of the last month of autumn, they said: "The twilight of the year, the gates of winter." The November sun is cold and less and less peeps through the clouds. November is the month of the first frosts and snow - winter, pre-winter: in the morning it can rain, and in the evening snow drifts. November is September's grandson, October's son, brother in winter, Father October is cold, and November chilled him too.
TIT
The first snow downed the eyelashes of the trees,
And in the forest, and in the fields - silence, silence.
How now her heart needs a song!
I have loved her since childhood. I know,
That in the spring we always forget about her,
But in the fall, for loyalty to the father's land,
She is dearer and dearer to all of us.
N. Rylenkov
WATER WITH EYES CLOSED
A very good day began at dawn, warm and sunny. He accidentally appeared in the middle of a cloudy autumn and was supposed to end soon. Early in the morning I left the house and felt how short this day would be. I wanted to live it well, not to lose a minute, and I ran to the forest. The day unfolded before me, around me in the forest and on the field. But the main thing happened in the sky. Clouds moved there, rubbing against each other with sunny sides, and a slight rustle was heard on the ground. I was in a hurry, ran out to glades littered with fallen leaves, got out of the swamps onto dry spruce manes. I understood that there was no need to rush, otherwise it would all be over. I wanted not to forget this day, to bring home its trace. Loaded with mushrooms and bouquets, I went out to the edge to the place where a spring stream flows from under the hill. I saw Nyurka by the stream. She was sitting on a spread sweatshirt, her briefcase lay on the grass nearby. In her hand Nyurka held an old tin mug that always hung on a birch near the stream.
Have a snack? I asked, dropping the basket from my shoulders.
I drink water, - answered Nyurka. She didn't even look at me or say hello.
Why drink empty water? Here's apple bread.
Thank you, no need, - answered Nyurka, raised the mug to her lips and took a sip of water. Swallowing, she closed her eyes and did not immediately open them.
What are you unhappy? I asked.
So, - answered Nyurka and shrugged her shoulders.
Maybe you got two?
Got it, - agreed Nyurka.
You see, you figured it out right away. For what?
Never.
She took another sip of water and closed her eyes.
Why don't you go home?
I don’t want to,” Nyurka answered without opening her eyes.
Yes, eat some bread.
Thanks, I dont want.
You don't want bread, you don't want to go home. So, why don't you go home?
Will not go. So I'll die here, by the stream.
Because of the two?
No, not because of the deuce, because of something else, - said Nyurka and finally opened her eyes.
What is this for?
There is something for that, - said Nyurka and again took a sip from the mug and closed her eyes.
Tell me.
None of your business.
Okay, I said, offended. - It's humane with you, and you ... Okay, then I'll also lie down and die.
I spread my jacket on the grass, lay down and began to die a little, looking, however, at the sun, which inexorably hid behind the trees. I didn't want this day to end. Another hour and a half.
What are you dying for? - asked Nyurka.
There is a reason, I replied. - Enough.
Chatting without knowing it yourself ... - said Nyurka.
I closed my eyes and lay silent for about five minutes, wondering if there was something to die of or not.
It turned out that there is. The most difficult thoughts came into my head, and suddenly I felt so sad that I forgot about Nyurka and about today's happy day, which I did not want to part with. And the day ended. It was long past noon and sunset was beginning. The clouds, set on fire by the sun, went beyond the horizon. Their lower part burned, and the upper part, cooled by the first stars, darkened, blue carbon monoxide lights flickered there. Slowly and somehow indifferently flapping its wings, a lone crow flew towards sunset. She seemed to understand that she would never fly before sunset.
Would you cry if I died? - suddenly asked Nyurka. She continued to drink water in small sips, sometimes covering her eyes.
Yes, you are sick, right? I got worried. - What happened to you?
Would you cry or not?
Of course, I answered seriously.
And I don't think anyone would cry.
The whole village would roar. Everyone loves you.
Why love me? What did I do?
Well, I don't know, but everyone loves it.
How do I know why. Because you are a good person.
Nothing good. But they love you, it's true. If you died, everyone would start to roar.
And if we both suddenly died, can you imagine what a roar would be? - I said.
Nurka laughed.
It's true, - she said, - the roar would be terrible.
Let's live a little longer, shall we? - I suggested, - otherwise it's a pity for the village.
Nyurka smiled, took a sip of water, and closed her eyes.
Open, open your eyes, - I said, - have pity on the village.
So delicious, - said Nyurka.
What's tastier? - I did not understand.
Better with closed eyes. With open all the water you drink - and you will not notice anything. And so - much tastier. And you yourself try.
And he took a mug from Nyurka, closed his eyes and took a sip. The water in the stream was icy, and her teeth ached at once. I wanted to open my eyes, but Nyurka said:
Wait, take your time. Sip some more.
The water from the stream smelled of sweet underwater grass and alder root, autumn wind and loose sand. I felt in it the voice of forest lakes and swamps, long rains and summer thunderstorms. I remembered how this spring the ides were spawning in the stream, how the humpbacked heron stood motionless on the shore, and how the oriole screamed like a cat. I took another sip and smelled the very near winter - the time when the water closes my eyes.
Y. Koval
AUTUMN
I recognize you, the time is dull:
These short, pale days
Long nights, rainy, dark
And destruction everywhere you look.
Faded leaves fall from the tree.
In the field, turning yellow, the bushes drooped,
Endless clouds float across the sky...
Very annoying!.. Yes, it's you!
A. Pleshcheev
The green summer threw off the caftan,
The larks whistled to their heart's content,
Autumn, dressed in a yellow fur coat,
I walked through the woods with a whisk.
To enter a zealous hostess
In the snowy forest chambers
A dandy in a white flyer -
Russian ruddy winter!
Great about verses:
Poetry is like painting: one work will captivate you more if you look at it closely, and another if you move further away.
Little cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creak of unoiled wheels.
The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is that which has broken.
Marina Tsvetaeva
Of all the arts, poetry is most tempted to replace its own peculiar beauty with stolen glitter.
Humboldt W.
Poems succeed if they are created with spiritual clarity.
The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is commonly believed.
If only you knew from what rubbish Poems grow without shame... Like a dandelion near a fence, Like burdocks and quinoa.
A. A. Akhmatova
Poetry is not in verses alone: it is spilled everywhere, it is around us. Take a look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life breathe from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.
I. S. Turgenev
For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.
G. Lichtenberg
A beautiful verse is like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. Not our own - our thoughts make the poet sing inside us. Telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He is a wizard. Understanding him, we become poets like him.
Where graceful verses flow, there is no place for vainglory.
Murasaki Shikibu
I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in Russian. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. Because of the feeling, art certainly peeps out. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
- ... Are your poems good, tell yourself?
- Monstrous! Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! the visitor asked pleadingly.
I promise and I swear! - solemnly said Ivan ...
Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"
We all write poetry; poets differ from the rest only in that they write them with words.
John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"
Every poem is a veil stretched out on the points of a few words. These words shine like stars, because of them the poem exists.
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
The poets of antiquity, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. It is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times, a whole Universe is certainly hidden, filled with miracles - often dangerous for someone who inadvertently wakes dormant lines.
Max Fry. "The Talking Dead"
To one of my clumsy hippos-poems, I attached such a heavenly tail: ...
Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea and not a plague!
Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky
Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore drive away critics. They are but miserable drinkers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let the verses seem to him an absurd lowing, a chaotic jumble of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from tedious reason, a glorious song that sounds on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.
Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"
Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing but pure poetry that has rejected the word.
Epigraph:
.............................. Days of late autumn scold usually,
............................................. But she is nice to me , dear reader,
.............................. With a quiet, shining beauty humbly.
............................................. So unloved child in native family
...............................................I am attracted to myself . To tell you frankly
............................................. From annual times I glad only for her,
............................................... There is a lot of good in it ; lover is not vain,
.............................................I am something in it found a wayward dream.
PUSHKIN.
1. RUSSIAN AUTUMN (Autumn with a drunken gait...)
Dancing in puddles autumn-woman,
Completely torn hem!
Barefoot, over potholes,
Everything goes to the foggy valley.
Now drunk with passion,
The wind blew in braids.
Following the rook, she cried out: “Hello!
Flew away ... Well, that's impudent!
Damned rain, like vodka -
The degree of November is strong!
Autumn, drunken gait,
Dancing, pulling a skirt.
Dancing in puddles autumn woman -
Like monisto, laughter rings.
But fatigue is "on the arap"
Take the rebel strives.
Baba, it seems, there is little grief,
But the dawn will change everything -
Snow-white bedspread
The earth will be covered.
After sleeping off, you will be surprised:
– Back in the arms of December!
Look at the calendar:
Autumn in the yard.
Why is January coming to us
Released in November?
The leaves are still circling
Like flocks of birds
Like snowflakes suddenly fly
At the edge of the eyelashes
Now everything is like in silver ...
- What about the calendar?
Haven't been in December
Is it already January?!
Crumpled deciduous tickets
Artful autumn destroyed the music hall:
No circus, no stage, no ballet...
The dawn air is chilling like menthol.
Maples and plane trees do not applaud,
There is no more strength left for the passion of emotions.
And the sweet-voiced fountains subsided...
The autumn tour ended in November.
4. NOVEMBER'S FAREWELL SMILE
Autumn turned to say goodbye
Giving a smile like spring.
Happiness of meetings is bestowed by parting -
This essence is clear to us from ancient times.
The sun gives valentines again -
kisses from the sun,
The bunnies warmed the paths ...
Autumn day - spring sparrow.
And a heart as quick as a bird -
Have fun, just don't stop!
This day is the last chamomile
We won't see flowers until spring...
5. THE harbinger of winter
The earth is wet with rain
Blacker now than asphalt.
And the clouds with black wings
Basalt is blackened from heaven in the morning.
And in the soul - a veil with a veil,
But sadness-sadness cannot be hidden under it:
November - rotten brocade ...
It's already winter's turn to be weird.
Look, the black forest has become black *
The hall of autumn is destroyed,
Callous soul in heaven...
And this winter is a harbinger
And that means - the end of autumn!
* CHERNOL? ESSIER, -I, cf. Deciduous forest.
November autumn -
Balzac lady:
Wears a more modest outfit
And loves melodrama
Feeling more and more crying
And looks sadly into the distance,
Longing for the past hides
Under the wings of a snow shawl.
Angry at the reflection
Looks less and less into the puddles.
But with some gusto
Spinning in a sad waltz...
November autumn -
Balzac lady,
The sky is tearfully asking
Loved Adam.
With the soul of hidden Eve
Feels a moment of passion:
Waiting, with trembling in the womb,
December happiness.
7. AUTUMN WEDDED
The first snow fell like a delicate chrysanthemum,
White bride autumn November
The sky dressed up ... Apparently, not in vain:
They give the bride to wife in December,
Spinning in the air: "I love you!"
With a white chrysanthemum, autumn in your hair...
Twirled December maiden in his arms.
Autumn got married - snow off the shoulders of clothes ...
The autumn unmarried age is over.
8. AUTUMN FAREWELL TEAR
November waves goodbye.
And in the sky, a curl of wind,
Autumn writes to us: "Goodbye!"
Leave the rest, like a handkerchief,
Autumn wipes away tears
After all, crystal rain at night
Destined to be... She sobs.
In a leaf left, as in a handkerchief,
Dropping the last tear
Autumn predicts winter for us,
Embracing with a farewell glance.
9. PRE-WINTER Gambit
Break through the soul
Nails of cold showers.
The forest with foliage said goodbye,
It is in mourning.
And on the crowns of the branch,
Like someone's tusks
Trees - skeletons,
Life is a gambit*:
To win
Happiness of spring days
Need to pay off
red beauty,
heart-shaped gold
Lush autumn crowns -
Something to pay...
Life is like a game.
... Life is an eternal battle!
10. POST-LEAF MIRACLE
Farewell decade of November...
Autumn is coming to a close.
And in the sky - the seas rage,
And the thunder is surprised by the rifts,
And the warm rain washes the earth -
The world turned upside down:
Suddenly April November became like
And smiled brightly like a rainbow!
11. THE TRUTH OF NOVEMBER
The autumn wind whistled
Flocks of birds fly south.
Everything changes in the world -
The night suddenly became longer.
Heaven is different too
We only dream of summer heat:
Less often the day is fine,
More often - the rain mumbles with melancholy.
Autumn is no longer loved
The mushroom is afraid of rain.
Ripe berry-rowan
Under the heavens a sad sob.
Dirty landscapes -
They contain the whole truth of November...
Numbers burn with cold soot
Gray sheet of the calendar.
12. LANDSCAPE PORTRAIT OF NOVEMBER
The sky is stained with autumn sadness:
Sunset, sunrise - longing without borders.
River wave flowing into the mouth,
Spleen beats through the edges of spiritual springs *.
Winds, swaggering, catch passers-by
And they tease more arrogantly day by day ...
Fewer and fewer pleasant moments
The ravines of mists are sorrow... A trap!
The heart is stained with autumn sadness.
_
*Krinitsa - the same as a well.
13. AUTUMN "FAREWELL!"
The last leaf is spinning,
Burnt by the sun.
Autumn looks sad
Nude virgin.
Chilled from the rains
Sad gray look...
Autumn lost
Faith in salvation.
Tearfully said goodbye -
And froze in the puddles
Not foliage - snowflakes
They are circling everywhere.
14. GOLDEN ASTERS OF NOVEMBER
Touching the skin with cold silk,
Night-embroiderer conjures.
And an invisible needle
Draws starry bouquets.
Flowers twinkle in the sky
And beckon with the petal sun:
Golden asters - heart song
In the silence of a cool spring.
Burning November silk woven,
Aster constellation shining ...
But autumn is no longer desirable:
Everyone is waiting for a snowy paradise.
15. DIES AUTUMN ACTRESS...
Dying autumn actress
The leaves are clapping mournfully after...
Winter is waiting behind the scenes -
Prepared an even bouquet.
The chrysanthemums bowed sadly:
Seven weather, seven roles lived ...
Autumn said goodbye to us today,
Life is hard for her.
Heaven will mourn
Not rain, but snowflakes of tears ...
Soon everyone will forget autumn -
Frost rules again.
And autumn's strength has dried up,
Dirty shroud torn tunic...
Nature has other performances -
A new season opens.
16. AUTUMN AND DECEMBER
Willows in the rain, like maidens in the sea -
Beauty beckons with passionate nakedness.
Torrential jets -
feelings in space.
Autumn has been exposed... Apparently, for good reason.
To know, she decided to conquer December;
Only he is soulless, freezes at once ...
Autumn in the paws of the beast
foolishly pleased
Tears froze in the corners of her eyes.
17. AUTUMN SORRY
Fallen leaves shrank
Many sorrowful hearts:
Warm days goodbye -
Autumn is nearing its end.
The bird flutes are silent,
The wind is a sad organ.
Showers got wet from the showers ...
A hurricane is approaching.
Fallen leaves shriveled
Many sorrowful hearts
It's hard to get used to the idea:
Autumn is nearing its end.
18. IN WHITE VELVET OF SNOW...
It's late autumn, parting shivers.
Radiant Vega petal banner...
Life is short, very short, if you live in happiness.
The inspired maiden has outlived, fallen in love,
Admired the beauty of the rains, then the rays.
Beauty is power!.. She was naked like Eve,
Yes, she disappeared without farewell speeches.
In the white velvet of the snow of tender marigolds there is a flame -
This is autumn's glorious golden kiss.
Radiant Vega petal banner
He tells us about the main thing: "He lived in happiness - rejoice!"
19. SINGS NOVEMBER SWEET-VOICED
November sings a lullaby to nature,
Like a virtuous, caring father.
Trees, sobbing in quiet bad weather,
They tearfully fall into the sleep of leafless hearts.
November sings like a gray-haired parent,
Cherishes tired gardens with a song -
Hearts are caressed by a sweet-voiced half-whisper...
Under the light of a born December star.
The crown is like a candelabra
The rain runs down like wax.
November is crying,
And the gloss trembles in the puddles:
The gloss of the water wrinkled, crying,
Like a child in repentance;
As if confession appointed
November Holy Father.
The youngest son of autumn is crying,
Confessional whisper pours ...
God forgives, no doubt
Those who live by faith!
21. GRAY GOILE
The wind ripped the soul out of the sun -
Shreds of leaves fly around the world.
The guttural rumble drowns out the summer song,
Even though he sometimes sings inappropriately.
The wind from the garden ripped out the soul -
The frightened birds fly away...
A heavy tear fell down a pear ...
The days became gloomy, the night became long.
The wind mercilessly shakes the souls of all,
Prowling an atheist - there is no way with him.
... The month of November is so drearily suffocating -
The caustic showers have eaten away the color.
22. MOUNTED NOVEMBER-BOY
Capriciously stomping feet
The autumn boy mopes.
Mixing clouds with clouds
Sheds tears on the battering ram:
He breaks through the world for pity,
Roars, capricious, without end.
What else is left for him?
After all, soon the kid will be taken prisoner.
The winter is about to take over
Frosty will pull his lasso -
November humbly numb,
The hooligan will calm down.
Well, in the meantime, he whips with a downpour,
Yes, it stomps and makes noise with hail,
Already obedience does not shine,
By braids pulling rakit.
Foliage crushing origami,
Moody autumn boy...
But still, December is not far off,
Frost will be replaced by fog.
23. AUTUMN-GYMNASI STUDENT
In a modest school dress
Autumn-gymnasium student,
White cape*
The first snow fell.
The charm of outfits
Autumn is unsightly
If the animal climbed
N "for a long time for the night.
Lace cuff
The maiden flaunted
But not for long frost
Painted a portrait...
Autumn beauty
Little makes us happy
If deciduous
Has sunk into oblivion.
________________________________________
* Cape - women's wide collar to the shoulders
or to the elbow, worn over the dress.
Gray silk of autumn spleen -
Endless rains.
The day is crumpled with a block of plasticine,
Rain water in the shower.
Skies without birds are numb
Foggy distance turns to stone;
Only dove-gray firs do not grieve -
Bad weather is not sadness for them.
Mood - cool jets,
The horizon is like a lonely finger.
The hallelujah prayers have resounded,
When suddenly someone pulled the trigger:
Hear the thunder of the November night
As if in May the sky trembles.
This shot prophesies good to us ...
So, there will be a turn to the heat!
25. THE CLOUDS SHUT THE SUN
Clouds blotted out the sun
The autumn show is over.
The window slams sadly -
The wind is naughty like a youngster.
The first snowball, like tears,
Taya glides on the glass.
Autumn roses in the snow
They look sad in the darkness.
Autumn happiness at the bottom,
The palisade is overgrown with sadness...
Clouds blotted out the sun...
The winter masquerade is coming.
26. RELEASE AUTUMN
I release autumn in a flock of deciduous,
Let the sun fly to distant lands.
I want to remember the beauty of comfort,
So that poplars sang in the soul with a hundred-ringer.
I want to remember golden-leaved autumn,
So that the heart could bell for centuries ...
May the day be frosty, cold silver,
Memory, like a caller *, will return the warmth to me.
____________________________________
*Stovonets - the same as the bell.
Autumn shouted to me: "Farewell!"
And she spread her wings in the sky...
Foliage last feather
Sent down a letter of farewell.
And the maple leaf is like a hand,
And I guess like a gypsy...
I'm sorry, but autumn has outlived itself.
Soul, from pain, inside out.
The frosts have done their
And crucified the heart of autumn.
Fog - the fallen sky,
And the sun is in a mourning veil.
28. SOBBING AUTUMN...
Autumn sobs with farewell rain,
Tears freeze, freeze in the wind.
If the fervent month began to look sad,
They will sing, know, the winds of autumn in the morning.
Autumn sobs, asks with a look.
And with prayer looks into God's heaven.
And in response to her birds: "You do not die -
You'll wake up in a year," the voice echoes.
Autumn sobs, cries, falling asleep,
Embracing the ground with a wounded wing.
The sky will snow, covering the maiden ...
Autumn falls asleep with a miraculous dream.
29. AUTUMN'S WRONG PASSION
Autumn's sinful passion...
The leaves are burned in the fire.
Was the deciduous rain to your heart's content? -
It will become an ashes of passions.
The coals of the last leaves
Downpours will be extinguished cruelly ...
We will dream of bonfires,
Autumn cry gray-eyed.
Autumn's sinful passion...
In feelings - so fickle.
Sin is a lightweight sweetness
Lamentation of November is repentant.
30. AND AGAIN - NOVEMBER ...
Glasses of puddles are broken out by pedestrians -
The first ice is so fragile and thin.
The trees are shaved by the winds
The crowns were left without leaves.
Passers-by hurry somewhere ...
The cold oppresses people's backs.
Bad weather days are cramped,
Moment by moment, nature freezes.
Only the spruce tree does not worry at all,
Flaunts his stubble:
Well, let the frosts multiply -
Spruce will not tremble that aspen.
Yes, November is an anti-kind hero,
Hooliganism is his freedom.
Amuses himself with whistling,
The atlas of the sky is tearing into the clouds!
31. LATE ROSES
November wrapped in a snow-white blanket
Last buds of late roses.
Frost pierces them with an invisible sharp sting -
Frozen in roses, like tears, drops grew.
And the wind shakes them, wanting exposure,
The snow is brutally torn into small shreds.
Heart-buds are cooled by a sultry burning sensation...
Autumn has passed - December is the turn.
32. GRAY AUTUMN
The sun has decayed - and the fogs are ashes
Falling from the sky day by day.
Dry weeds drown in dullness...
Sadness and sadness - all anguish is a trap.
Frantic flocks of gray crows
They found a cold shelter in the parks.
The world suddenly became old -
New landscapes reigns uncomfortably.
33. BEARLY NOVEMBER
Webs in the dew -
Branches in necklaces.
A scattering of leaves will fall -
Waiting for a bear cell.
Will go into hibernation soon
Brown Beast -
Winter will order to save
If frost is an atheist.
clubfoot predator
Cold to the blizzard...
Sleep dump impudently
Must to the drop.
... The air smells of prelude,
The sheet is no longer spinning.
white blizzard
Soon the day will blow.
34. AUTUMN PURBORACY
The days are cold, long monotonous.
The foliage is scattered - the winds have long overtaken.
Catalps stand like porcupines:
The fruits hang on the branches like needles...
Rustling pods, touching each other -
Their sad whisper evokes drowsiness.
And from the frosts of the singing * escaping,
Nature is slowly falling asleep...
________________________________________
* Sleeping - the same as approaching.
In an instant, the hoarfrost extinguished the flames in the flowerbeds ...
Frosty wind puddles tightened,
Now the water is a solid amalgam ...
Know that November has stepped towards winter.
Boxwoods in hoarfrost with hedgehogs are so similar,
But they are only albino.
And the days have long been prickly and bad:
Entirely the heavens are infected with melancholy.
36. ANOTHER AUTUMN
Time axis - magic wand -
Sunny day turned into sadness.
The sky is a page, the bird is just a tick,
Black mark ... a dull distance.
Autumn is different, so soulless,
Cold forever gloomy November.
The radiance of heaven is now alien to the day ...
Crown - extinguished candles chandelier.
37. CHILL NOVEMBER
Like tree rings
There are circles on the web.
The sun is getting smaller
Shines on other valleys.
Autumn has grown old quickly:
The cold added gray hair ...
Ryasny viburnum monisto -
Sun farewell carmine.
Scarcity will return with spring,
Like a resurrected passion.
... Now a foggy wall
Acrid frosts attack.
Upside down umbrella time...
Winds pull out even "canes".
Winter is stubbornly asking for a visit ...
Hundreds of words pour into the soul-umbrella sky.
The spokes of sadness stir the nerves -
In November, it is both cold and prickly ...
Height up the gramophone rubbed the needle -
And the winds wheeze.
39. WARM NOVEMBER
Bling drops
They call us from the branches.
- November is sad ... -
They often say.
Here's what I'm going to argue:
– Not always the same!
Hear how autumn
Everything ding-ding, trinket-trigger?
wind at times
Gently hisses:
- Sh-sh-sh - with a leafy scarf
Quietly rustling.
And November, if warm,
I'm not gloomy at all.
But sometimes in the morning
Ice on the puddles - crunch! -
Cold after the night
It sings so loudly
Because thin
The very first ice.
That fog, then frost,
It's raining again...
Warm November -
Why not grace?
November draws his self-portrait:
The sadness of the gray lines, like mist mixed with soot.
In the chest pinching from the morning landscapes ...
And between dawn and dusk parity.
So rarely a radiant dawn,
The general melancholy dominates oppressively.
"Dutchman" sunny again released on a journey ...
Anchors now shine in foreign lands.
41. SADNESS UNDER THE SIGN "... BR"
September and October and November and December
Raw dankness oppresses endlessly...
Set up like a ship in open space:
Either a drizzling calm, or a storm in the morning.
How I want to scream: how "... bam" is ugly!
And only December will change the plot.
Tired of ruffling the gardens like a porcupine,
With snow, all the causticity will suddenly come to naught.
And a string of words with a strumming ending
Disappear, only the month of January will do:
The nature will freeze in a snow-covered thicket -
The former despondency will immediately fall asleep!
42. NOVEMBER
Trees without leaves
Like umbrellas that are torn:
From wind commotion
Torn Atlas.
And the branches - a bunch of spokes -
Strange needles stick out ...
Gardens without songbirds
Nature is unadorned.
43. WET LANDSCAPE
November paints the landscape in a wet way -
Outlines float in the fog.
And the last leaf to the sword of Damocles
Like ... A step, maybe a foot,
Half a step of autumn left ...
Another moment - it's winter
She will scream: “Well, what, did you put on makeup?
Get out and get lost yourself!”
November paints the landscape in a wet way...
Tearfully written to the creator.
And the canvas is akin to a wet carpet -
Akin, in severity, to lead;
This is because parting
Say goodbye to autumn for a year ...
But sadness knows debunking,
Only the sky will become snowy!
44. Crying Chrysanthemums...
Chrysanthemums cry with dewy tears,
Bitterly regretting the warmth of the departed ...
Look at the sky with sad eyes:
Soon autumn will be the sun withered.
Chrysanthemums are crying, tremblingly swaying,
Lush beauties fade quietly.
Flowers look with tenderness, saying goodbye ...
The foliage is already losing its charm of gilding.
Chrysanthemums are crying: the humid air is minty.
And the autumn landscape seems careless ...
In November, the speech of the wind is stronger and more intelligible -
Winter rushes around the world like a snow-white club.
45. BIRD GRAY - AUTUMN ...
Gray bird - autumn
The last leaf pecks.
It's sad in November... Very sad.
The rain comes and goes.
The shadow is circling
Above ground without end.
A day without the sun is grieving...
It's winter on the porch.
46. LAST HEAT
The sun rolls like a chiseled coin,
Divides nature into “after” and “before”.
Soon the birch will appear naked,
Time will fill the nest with snow.
The sun rolls like a chiseled coin -
A series of days, like "tails" with "eagles".
... Again the planet turned for the winter -
Burns the calendar with an indevely number.
47. SNOW MESSAGE
The first snow is news
Like a sign-message.
Heaven prophesied:
There will be a breakup.
They gave that only recently
Were miserable
Already with white carpets
They became unusual.
Pure joy -
Happiness is short term
Autumn farewell
Gentle multipoint.
48. AUTUMN LACRIMOSO*
Downpours put out the autumn fire.
As if in soot, the foliage is covered in mud.
The crow will not say "Kar-kar" ...
Know the autumn finale on the ointment.
A sad haze captivates a cold garden,
Jet-lashes cling to the backs of the trunks.
Can't bring back the good days...
Do not demolish the heads of chrysanthemums.
Downpours put out the autumn fire.
The firmament frowns without end.
... So November, cold-blooded corsair,
Sheds autumn blood.
____________________________________
Lakrim "ozo, adv. (mournfully, tearfully).
November - chilled hedgehog
With rainy needles -
Cold and sharp...
Tired little legs.
November is an exhausted beast
And hibernating,
Escaped from winter days
After all, he is soaking wet.
November is a chilled hedgehog,
Frightened by frost
What is crying under the birches
Among leafy clothes.
November - gray-headed,
He climbs into the hole
Her warmth is saved ...
Through the winter dream, hedgehog*
Waiting for leaf fall ... new.
50. AUTUMN TRAVELER
The air is naked again -
Gray everyday paper -
Leaves off the branches
This month is a vagabond.
From birth chumaz,
Elbows have not been washed for a century.
Rarely the sun from the eyes:
From the cradle in tatters.
All crows scurry
Over fallen leaves.
november homelessness
Gnawing at the heart with sadness.
The cloud is a heavy canopy,
The wind is angry, itching.
late autumn day
It's called leafworm*.
The splendor of the garden is in the past,
Clothes to shreds...
Smells like a rotten leaf
The air is grey, boredom is wolfish.
No matter how sorry November
Don't help a tramp...
The gardens of the bullfinch are waiting,
Like the sun - mongrels.
51. UNCOMFORTABLE AUTUMN
Gray-gray November -
The sky is crying again...
It's time for the rain to subside
And he torments the crowns.
Scared all the crows -
Do not groan in the middle of the grove.
Sadness-longing - series ...
Only the fish do not grumble.
November ocean -
He is so icy:
Either frost ... then fog,
Like a poisonous snake.
And dank horror
The heart burns and corrodes.
late autumn essence
Know that there is no other.
52. AUTUMN
November flips through the days
like a passport page,
But the autumn registration has already expired ...
Warmly banished the evil winds abroad,
For a year, the brown-haired woman was deleted from the list.
We are nine months old
not to see leaf fall,
And chrysanthemums are destined to dream at night ...
If autumn is called persona non grata,
Only a year later they will be allowed to return!
53. BIRD WINTER
Grumpy birds shred the silence in the morning,
Like competing in karaoke...
Crows, jackdaws, black and white magpies...
The winged people, according to signs, are fussing:
Frost seems to be approaching the threshold,
The tops of the crowns are black from "bird's weddings" ...
Already pre-winter, no, not girlish - manly ...
Daytime degrees in winter mature.
54. SAD OF THE AUTUMN FIREBIRD
The wind is tearing the tail of the autumn Firebird,
Taking beauty away.
Eyelashes drooped in teardrops,
The leaves in the puddles are solid mica.
Clouds are the discoloration of summer
Together with their clouds - a caravan ...
The coin has dimmed and the sun,
Weeds are bursting with damp coldness.
The entire tattered tail of the Firebird,
Everywhere leaves fly like feathers.
Bare wings in vain flapping -
Soon the days of autumn will ring out.
55. ON THE EDUCATION OF WINTER
The hedgehog climbed into the old tub,
Until spring, he lay down in a long sleep.
Autumn knocked the frog off its feet.
Henceforth, a thorn is a hoarfrost bud.
How dry weeds will be transformed,
If the snows come, then doubly
Everything around in white will sparkle ...
Even with a shy moon.
In the meantime - November is frosty -
Like the threshold of a fabulous dream;
Like a gnome artist, but not bold:
He does not stand with a brush by the window.
There are no white curls on the glasses,
But a little more, a day or two -
And the old, abandoned tubs
There will be a mountain of snow already!
56. COLD PROMENAD
Birds spread their wings -
There are small crosses in the sky.
Autumn days in sorrow:
Park in the arms of emptiness...
November again with winter on "you".
Evening pours with strong tea:
Darkness comes early.
And under the light of window "candles"
Ice melts in the heart of sadness ...
The night will take away the weariness.
No cat in a cold frame:
It can be seen, feeling the cold,
He is to the hostess, as if to his mother,
Grown under the purr...
In a dream, sticking a wet nose.
And it's cold outside
Chrysanthemums are so bitter...
Autumn is no longer beautiful
The now cold promenade...
From the sky - a sleepy snowfall.
57. BITTER AUTUMN
Autumn evening, like wet mustard -
November spread a bitter sandwich.
The birds sang so sadly, saying goodbye until spring,
Looking sadly into the mess of swamps:
Mixed dust, water and crushed leaves -
Not that autumn, what can I say ...
And only sometimes the dawn will remind fox paint
Such an autumn that I am ready to worship!
58. MY SIAMESE NOVEMBER
Coffee black. With special grace.
I admire them and sing from year to year,
To me autumn is a Muse, an inspired sweetheart.
Her graceful bad weather does not care -
From curvaceous to thin wet lines!
Every month is doomed to admiration ...
Whose gray eyes are sometimes sky blue!
November is the month that the Siamese stately cat:
I love him ... He is a magic song -
Rains murmuring - hello mutual sends ...
I accept ... with tenderness of soul.
59. EASTERN NOVEMBER
Leafy carpet spread underfoot,
October and November are all conversations.
Forgetting about bad weather with winds, with rains,
They sit in Turkish, pour soulfulness.
And together with them I am thrilled with autumn,
Tasting a sweet day with the taste of halva ...
We drink the joy of life and share it
From the solar bowl - the holy bowl!
60. HEART NOVEMBER
November turned out to be cordial *:
The winds are not at all obstinate,
Not a sinner for ugliness,
He is not jealous of the sun now.
The trees are lined up
As if autumn never ends...
He ignores beliefs
Departure of cuckoo and starling.
November is smiling! He is sinless
In love with forests silence
Stepping so slowly
Palms outstretched to the sun
He reads us a fairy tale of autumn,
Where the epilogue is completely different:
Where kindness only wins
Although winter is just around the corner!
_____________________________________________________
* In this case, it is read as cordial, cordially.
Again, autumn caught fire engraving:
With a special Rembrandtian dexterity
November is depicted as a "dry needle" ...
Although gray, he is inscribed with soul.
The pre-winter good news gives us,
That the wind in vain scandals with the crows:
Nature at the moment is Danae herself,
But the hour of snow-covered paradise is near!
* Etching (from the French eau-forte - nitric acid) - a type of engraving.
** "Dry needle" - engraving technique.
*** To catch fire - to irresistibly want (the meaning of the word according to Ozhegov).
62. ROMANTIC WATERCOLOR
The crowns are trimmed by the winds,
November... Parks in sad shades.
Road - colored shadows -
Rainy day mise-en-scène:
Umbrella reflections in puddles
Like leaves of October echoes.
A romantic in bad weather does not grieve,
It's no problem for him!
Color drives depression ...
Aleet porch "Bradobreyskaya",
Landscape watercolor tends
Again to the truth of the old, biblical:
Despondency is a shameful sin!
63. NOVEMBER FORTY
November day - grimy closet,
And in the sky the sun is a dim light of an old lamp.
Forty conversation that patter -
Know that the prophecy will soon come true.
They say: for the guests magpie cod
And a sure sign of worsening weather.
But I'm not sad ... There is a good reason for this:
Cold snap is a short step towards winter.
And the day will become a whitewashed hall,
And deftly throw off the dullness of cobwebs ...
Under a light blanket
November days of hateful shoe polish will perish.
64. PARTED SADNESS
Strokes tirelessly rain cold city -
Looks like endless skies gray stylus...
Higher and higher than the passer-by gate...
And it seems that the sun is no longer a savior.
Sadder and sadder graphic landscapes -
Rainy shades oppresses layering ...
The former beauties of forest hermitages -
Yesterday's happiness... Mirage, obsession.
65. MODEL
Dew - mother-of-pearl ... Leaves - golden,
And sometimes, like butterflies, they circle in the air.
The beauty of exquisite everyday life poured
Everything over indifference unanimously conjure.
People admire the golden-haired maiden,
And passers-by looks pour a special light ...
Autumn dressed up will soon become - Eve,
And November will write a nude portrait with her.
Lush outfits, lost in the past,
There will be no place on the canvas of the pre-winter season ...
Autumn will be exposed, but it didn’t go at all,
And in delight the puddles will quiveringly freeze.
66. A LA MURANO
Fragments of leaves in cold puddles - stained glass ...
A little more - it will freeze, as if in a frame,
The saffron leaves last warmly.
Autumn Murano glass is broken:
From heaven - fragments of clouds - raindrops-drops.
And the strength of the sun with November dried up again ...
And the snow bird flew up again!
67. WINTER IS ON THE THRESHOLD!
The frog is sleeping - a cold matting,
The glass of the puddles the baby breaks with his leg.
And you can’t hear the previous “squish” and “squish” ...
Yes, November is less and less rainy;
Frost shines in the park stitch.
The day is increasingly snowy and icy,
Cold-blooded, windy-serpentine,
Falling leaves no longer rustle ...
And the snakes in the gorges sleep soundly,
They dream of March warm and streamy.
A bear went into hibernation in a den.
The wind is rushing along the road.
The hedgehog sleeps in his favorite hole -
Air hedgehog is now in the yard,
And the winter lord is on the threshold!
Dormouse animals sleep in their dwellings:
After all, now there is so little food for them,
Like salvation - a sweet long dream ...
The sky will be in cold colors:
A winter day in the sun is the poorest!
Natalie SamOny - stress in the surname on the second syllable!
LIST OF WORKS OF THIS CYCLE:
1. RUSSIAN AUTUMN (Autumn with a drunken gait...)
2. JANUARY IN NOVEMBER ... Poems for children
3. NOVEMBER
4. NOVEMBER'S FAREWELL SMILE
5. THE harbinger of winter
6. NOVEMBER AUTUMN - BALZACOV'S LADY...
7. AUTUMN WEDDED
8. AUTUMN FAREWELL TEAR
9. PRE-WINTER Gambit
10. POST-LEAF MIRACLE
11. THE TRUTH OF NOVEMBER
12. LANDSCAPE PORTRAIT OF NOVEMBER
13. AUTUMN "FAREWELL!"
14. GOLDEN ASTERS OF NOVEMBER
15. DIES AUTUMN ACTRESS...
16. AUTUMN AND DECEMBER
17. AUTUMN SORRY
18. IN WHITE VELVET OF SNOW...
19. SINGS NOVEMBER SWEET-VOICED
20. RAINY AUTUMN CONFESSION
21. GRAY GOILE
22. MOUNTED NOVEMBER-BOY
23. AUTUMN-GYMNASI STUDENT
24. GRAY SILK AUTUMN SPLEEN
25. THE CLOUDS SHUT THE SUN
26. RELEASE AUTUMN
27. AUTUMN SHOUTED "FAREWELL!" to me...
28. SOBBING AUTUMN...
29. AUTUMN'S WRONG PASSION
30. AND AGAIN - NOVEMBER ...
31. LATE ROSES
32. GRAY AUTUMN
33. BEARLY NOVEMBER
34. AUTUMN PURBORACY
35. NOVEMBER-DECEMBER SAD
36. ANOTHER AUTUMN
37. CHILL NOVEMBER
38. TIME FOR AN UPLOADED UMBRELLA
39. WARM NOVEMBER
40. NOVEMBER
41. SADNESS UNDER THE SIGN "... BR"
42. NOVEMBER
43. WET LANDSCAPE
44. Crying Chrysanthemums...
45. BIRD GRAY - AUTUMN ...
46. LAST HEAT
47. SNOW MESSAGE
48. AUTUMN LACRIMOSO
49. NOVEMBER
50. AUTUMN TRAVELER
51. UNCOMFORTABLE AUTUMN
52. AUTUMN
53. BIRD WINTER
54. SAD OF THE AUTUMN FIREBIRD
55. ON THE EDUCATION OF WINTER
56. COLD PROMENAD
57. BITTER AUTUMN
58. MY SIAMESE NOVEMBER
59. EASTERN NOVEMBER
60. HEART NOVEMBER
61. NOVEMBER ETCHING
62. ROMANTIC WATERCOLOR
63. NOVEMBER FORTY
64. PARTED SADNESS
65. MODEL
66. A LA MURANO
67. WINTER IS ON THE THRESHOLD!
IMAGE:
http://blog.i.ua/user/1172493/332713/
November - from the Latin November - the ninth, since it was the ninth month of the old Roman year, which began before the reform of Caesar from March.
In the old days, November was called - leafy, leafy, icy, semi-winter, zapevka winter, gates of winter.
In Ukraine, this month is called Leaf fall - beautiful!
November Sayings:
* In November, heat is not an indication of frost.
* In November, winter fights with autumn.
*November nights are dark before the snow.
* In November, dawn meets dusk in the middle of the day ...
* November - September's grandson, October's son, winter dear father.
***
Signs and sayings of November
November - September grandson, October son, winter dear father. November is a semi-winter season: a peasant says goodbye to a cart, climbs into a sleigh.
In November, winter fights with autumn.
Hello, friends. Continuing, we offer you today for review poems about November for children. November is the last month of autumn. The trees are already almost completely leafless, the birds fly away to warmer climes, the air is getting colder every day, and in the morning frost is already appearing on the ground and roofs, the first frosts are coming ... Just a little more time and autumn will pass, giving way to the beauty- winter...
In today's collection of poems about November there are very short beautiful poems for children 4-5 and 5-6 years old, which can be useful for classes in kindergarten. There are also many longer and no less beautiful poems.
You will find poems by famous Russian poets, for example A.S. Pushkin, and writers - our contemporaries, who write very interestingly for children. After each verse, we indicated its author.
I think that in this November collection of poems you will definitely pick up a verse for your children. By the way, I advise adults to read it, it's very interesting)
***
In November forest animals
They close the doors in the burrows.
Brown bear until spring
Will sleep and dream.
(Yu. Kasparova)
November
This autumn has become stricter,
The day is getting worse and worse.
The wind is cold, terribly angry.
The birds said goodbye to us.
(N. Samoniy)
***
November rain and snow
The forest is all gloomy.
Every person knows
That November is unprepossessing.
In November the trees sleep
Autumn garden nailed down by rain.
The rain will end. Then,
She will cover the snow with her carpet.
(A. Fukalov)
Poem about November
The tree became more noticeable in the forest,
It is tidy and empty.
And naked as a panicle
Clogged with mud by the countryside,
Blown with hoar frost,
Trembling, whistling vine bush.
(A. Tvardovsky)
***
Hands get cold in November
Cold, wind in the yard,
Late autumn brings
First snow and first ice.
(A. Berlova)
***
Freezing wind in November
Cold cold:
He is in the morning
Met with a cold.
A cloud of blue sky
Closed from the ground
And autumn grass
Frost covered.
Ice on the puddle glitters
The puddle freezes.
This winter is rushing to us,
Autumn accompanies.
(G. Sorenkova)
Verse for November 7
Day 7 November -
Red day calendar.
Look out your window
Everything outside is red.
Flags fly at the gate
Blazing with flames.
You see the music is coming
where the trams were.
All the people - both young and old -
Celebrates freedom.
And my red balloon flies
Straight to the sky!
(Samuel Marshak)
***
Apple and plum trees are bare.
Our autumn garden looks dull.
Outside the window, then rain, then cold snow.
Gloomy, uncomfortable for everyone.
The sun sank in the puddles of November.
But we will not be angry with him for nothing.
Prepare skis, sleds and skates.
Winter days are coming soon.
(T. Kersten)
Verse by A. S. Pushkin
Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less
The day was getting shorter
Forests mysterious canopy
She stripped naked with a sad noise.
Fog fell on the fields
Noisy geese caravan
Stretched to the south: approaching
Pretty boring time;
November was already at the yard.
(A. Pushkin)
November is coming
And now the winter is rushing
To meet autumn on the threshold,
And outside the window the snow is circling,
November is coming to us.
(M. Mitlina)
your holiday
To wait soon
Tomorrow
Children go to bed
Early, no fire.
Dress - on a chair,
The girls fell asleep.
Muscovites went to sleep
Braided pigtails.
We got up in the morning, at dawn,
The room is light.
On the wall in the calendar
Red number.
And in the north, where there is snow,
Where frosts are fierce,
Get up early in the morning
Yakut boys.
How much snow has fallen!
But the flags blossomed
winter village,
And looks from the calendar
November seventh day
Red number.
The calendar is the same
In a quiet house above Kama,
In a new house on the Dnieper
Red day on the calendar.
And in the south, where it's warm,
It's also a red number.
Sandals,
sand paths,
Warm water in the sea
- Kindergarten runs here.
Flags hang in the harbor
Kindergarten counts aloud:
- Look how many flags!
Ten! Twenty! Fifty!
(Agniya Barto)
Poem about Blizzard
The blizzard fell asleep on the stove
In the New Year's hut,
Under the cheek of an ice brick
Putting it more comfortably
I completely forgot about the New Year,
About Christmas trees and snowdrifts,
And who will sweep the snow
For winter - sweethearts?
A hare jumped from a mink
Wake up a blizzard - sleepyhead
I braided ribbons into her braids,
Icicles rang!
- "Wake up soon, sleep like a marmot,
Trees need to be decorated
The wind will help you
Straighten their needles.
Then the cheerful Santa Claus
Give gifts to animals
And in order not to freeze your nose,
With a blizzard - catch up!
- "You, hare, mixed everything up,
It's November, how strange!
I can sleep for a long time
It's too early for me to get up!"
(Konova Larisa)
Poem about November
Bunny crawled out of the hole:
- What are mosquitoes?
Whites fly
And do they melt on the paw?
The wind howls cold
Clouds go sideways
November frost
Pinch a warm bunny nose.
Somewhere a terrible beast walks,
And don't hide now!
You can see a bunny in a gray coat.
The bunny is embarrassed!
Everything turned white in the forest,
I'll take the coat to the launderer!
I wash it to white
So that she was like snow!
(I. Gurina)
***
White specks of snow fell
Whitewashed the tracks.
Trampled on the bench
A little white cat.
But November is a plasterer
Knows his business
He is on black houses
Doesn't spare chalk.
Closed for repairs
Master of the blizzard
Stuffs snow behind the collar
Baby to each other.
Fences in white hats
Lanterns and pipes
Tied a white scarf
The monument is gloomy.
Will you share
Exhale-inhale with a pillow,
And winter whiten all night
Will be white shavings
(Spolding)
***
Black Forest Irresistible
Drawn to the roots
Behind the November prewinter
Snow is waiting for the soul soon.
For gloomy nights
White dance round dance,
For patience and sorrow
Long-awaited New Year!
(M. Sadovsky)
***
Hoarfrost timid branches covered,
The sun came out of the darkness in the morning
And illuminated the icy beauty,
For all of us to see!
Like crystal or even diamonds
– The branches are covered with frozen dew;
This November shows talents
Northern, wild beauty shines!
(Kersten T)
Flood in November
Flood "worldwide" outside the window!
My house set sail.
And with him I, sister and cat,
Aquarium, dog Toshka,
Seryozhka is a friend, he is my neighbor ...
And the rain is around, and there is no sun!
You can't even see the horizon!
And the house also needs an umbrella:
Water above, water below...
We're sailing to no one knows where!
Checking the calendar
- Forward! For winter! By November!
(Natalia Kapustyuk)
***
November is a hunchbacked old man,
Eyes - like ice, nose - a hook!
The look is dissatisfied and prickly,
Cold month, clouds in the sky.
Seeing off the golden autumn
And meets the white winter!
He changes heat to cold
And tired - no longer young!
But the north wind will help:
Will pluck the leaves, put them in the carpet,
Will cover the earth with a veil,
Don't freeze until spring!
(N. Maidanik)
***
Gray fog, the cry of a seagull outside the window ...
November the sea caresses with cold ...
Winter is moving towards us in a beautiful dream,
And the old breeze lets go to rest.
My gentle shore is a blanket of waves,
In a hurry to cover before a long magical sleep.
And sadness cries at dusk, autumn tone,
Draws time with a perfect brush...
(Yana-Maria Kushnerova)
November - "semi-winter"
"Semi-winter" was called
This month, have you heard?
He says goodbye to the cart,
In the sleigh, the lungs sit down and climb.
The wind swirled in scrolls.
Well, know your autumn:
- Well, let's rain
I'll spill again, I'll take mine! -
But winter is already in a hurry, fierce,
A series of frosts is coming to us,
The first ice is forged on the river.
(Marina Khaleeva)
***
We removed in November
All dry leaves.
It became quiet in the yard
Festive and clean.
A quiet pond falls asleep
The flowerbeds are empty
The birds don't sing anymore
They flew south.
In purity and silence
Autumn is resting
Day after day she is Winter
The place is giving way.
(L. Brammer)