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n-khrennikov Nov 2020
The best place for writing poetry is sit by a river.
especially when leaving a loved one,
if you know she’ll go back there eventually,
in some week, in a month, or a year,  you would be able
to write with a loudest mind
but you must
know you’ll never see her,
and so it’ll be merely a monologue

Begin the poem with separation,
selflessly giving it everything in you
out of selfishness, out of need for sympathy.
n-khrennikov Nov 2020
My darkest art is different shades of the same color.
and so my obsession began…
n-khrennikov Nov 2020
I wasted my nights writing;
till there was no lead in the pen
when I started reading my verses,
I imagined myself in a large auditorium,
in front of a single person.
because I wanted to make her love me.
With her bottomless loving eyes
as she refused to give it up willingly,
So I wasted my nights writing;
I didn’t know how to love her.
n-khrennikov Nov 2020
Neither side won,
neither side lost.
How many people are there
whose wishes have been so answered?
Voters like me who seemed to have had their way,
Sit down, ******,
pack your bags
and prepare to depart the Oval Office.
The future is ours.

Anaïs Nin claimed:  'We don't see the world as it is, we see it as we are'. Do something more important today than focus on politics. Try not to be that person, your relationships and your health are what matters.
n-khrennikov Sep 2020
I’m from...
I’m from the Volga, serene and majestic
from the hands of the clocks that were moving too slow,
from the grip of the woman that was holding my hand,
from the innocent glance, from the dirt on the asphalt.
From Lenin, Karl Marx, Nietzsche,
from Pushkin, Okudzhava, Brodsky and Mayakovsky,
from the dust on the bookshelves turned gold in the light,
and the country that nursed me that dissolved in my sight.
From the triples threat stance: pass, shoot and attack
from the bully that tested my patience
from the sounds that blasted from the radio station
from the college where I searched for my place
from the choices I’ve made and felt no regret
from cigarette smoke that dissolved in the night
to discipline to write my thoughts
from the house I loved and the rural towns I left,
from the image I saw when I looked at myself,
from Emma to Lazarus, from our sunset gates shall stand
to the moment where everything froze in suspense.
And so, gentle reader, enjoy
And welcome to my original.

This poem parodies the poem "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus. My wife name is Emma. I immigrated to the United States in 2019.
n-khrennikov Sep 2020
There were three women in my life.
The first
from Volga winters, mud mixed with snow
A gentle wind and I appeared.
And rocked me in her arms,
A the hole in the fence of the house where I went
And when the sun on my back
to force myself to let go of her hand.

The second one were taken from my rib-cage,
from my rib,
my heart beats with new passion.
Two lone shadows intertwined
cuddling like two gray pigeons
I waiting for her
or did she wait for me?
And when I awoke,
she was still sleeping and sublime,
just as the day she asked me for a smoke
And to this day, she has me mesmerized.

The third one sparkled like a dowry in herself
I observe her,
she makes my patience
from the books I’d read every night in my head
When the evening sky descends,
Stars will shine
to ensure that all her dreams
Stay divine

Now the same three precious fires
in all the beauty that was revealed to me
And I will love her till the end of time.
n-khrennikov Jul 2020
A rose,
lay motionless under the river
And the love opened the book
until my echo becames flesh.
In the dark nights,
the stars coming
Your name resounded far away
A rose,
lay motionless in the dark night
if you don't awakens
I will leave my heart cold by your side.
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