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To grasp of me would be no use, my form flows an immortal river.
H.хренников
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I wrote poetry in younger years of love and loss, of joy and fear. I discovered my thought tucked away in a drawer. My soul now resides in this story on this page.
H.хренников
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She wear a dress made of poems, and each verse is a detail.
H.хренников, Esthétique (via Morgondagen)
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Thanks you
via @justdust
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My dark sketch like shards of glass. The patterns forming a work of art shrouded by demons of the past.
H.хренников, A Tragic Journey to Rochester
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Love is the ticket. Here in hell, or here in heaven ‘cause we never part.
H.хренников
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“The bare hand... hugging thoughts, reminiscing the sigh. Heart broken, eyes broken. Peaches of mandarin and orange. Rise, burn, smell of the other day. In the silence of the small room, I hear everything, and darkness lies in the castle of the ego.”
n-khrennikov
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The Tears flow for Ukraine
Cry.
Don’t cry,
Do not hang your head, my neighbors.
You cannot choose when you die,
When your woes are straining,
The careful muffled sound of heartbreak
Of the deep silence of the souls.
A giant shit in his own backyard,
It is “ride or die”.
And you can choose how you die.
And nothing more, and nothing more.
And we’re no more, and we’re no more.
But be alive, alive and only,
Alive and only to the end.
Wind, keep singing for them, do not wane,
And in it, now forever.
Arise, arise now, brother-soldier.
Freedom is never free.
Nikolai Khrennikov
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Pen shows!
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The bench is full this morning
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She formed to be yours
at the threshold of inception
they were molded together
bisected, to find rejoining
Her eyes are shaped
to see your face
her gaze is drawn to you
as the moon draws the tide
her heart opens for your love
She is a little bell tuned to a singular tone
reverberating with your voice
We resonate with the sound of her name.
~ H.хренников, Grace
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Kingdom by the Sea
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Meandering the chorus of her scent, I am lost
between the curtains of her belly
and her mouth
I worship the sunrise in her form divine,
my head bowed down
in reverent respect,
I pray that the sun sets between us
beautifully.
maybe in another life, we
could be a temple of a shared two bodies,
twilight, upright, hand in hand.
Her mouth becomes melody, singing
without words.
i wander, consuming her pleasure with,
softly, as though she were a little butterfly.
much like a tremendous hunter. we surrender, together
shared in solemn silence pass the day.
the doorway to mutual softness.
the glory and divinity,
Love is the gift of life.
~ H.хренников, Love is the Gift of Life
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Loving you is panic, so claustrophobically
large,
but sometimes you are a Spring, catalyzing
wind in
where then ...
you,
place your own breath in the parts of me that
struggle for it.
~ H.хренников
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New baby
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