Kuban poets and their works. "A favorite corner of the Earth in the work of Kuban poets and composers

creators of the literary exposition "Houses of the Lermontov Museum in Taman"

An oak leaf broke away from a branch of a native

And he rolled off into the steppe, driven by a cruel storm;

It withered and withered from the cold, heat and grief

And then, finally, came to the Black Sea.

M.Yu.Lermontov.

In the works of many Russian writers and poets of the 19th century, the Caucasus and Kuban became a kind of Mecca. And how could it be otherwise. Once in these places, seeing the life and customs of the locals, hearing the songs of the Terek Cossacks - none of them could silently pass by. And for everyone who came into contact with it, what they saw entered life and work as a personal theme. And, as it was rightly noted, Russian literature adopted the Caucasus, “discovered” by A.S. Pushkin, and by this expressed its certain attention to the people who inhabited these places.

“With the light hand of Pushkin,” wrote V. G. Belinsky, “the Caucasus has become for Russian poets a cherished country not only of broad, free will, but also of inexhaustible poetry, a country of seething life of bold dreams!..”

And, indeed, after the “Prisoner of the Caucasus” by Pushkin, who in the 20-30s. of the last century was extremely popular, many poets began to imitate the poet. But not only well-known and popular writers and poets turned to this topic, works of little-known and even completely unknown authors began to appear in the press.

So in "Tifliskie Vedomosti" in 1832, the poem "Grebensky Cossack" signed with the initials P.B ... y N ... ko appeared. The theme of the poem is the farewell of a young Cossack to his beloved before leaving for a Chechen-kunak beyond the Terek. The Cossack asks her beloved:

Are you following the Terek? - you leave me!

Beloved! Why did you saddle your horse?

From the native village to whose call are you in a hurry?

I see a dart in my hand

And a gun on a bow...

The dashing comb comforts her, says that he will return soon. But the beloved does not believe his words, she is tormented by a heavy foreboding:

There in a strange village.

In the Caucasus gray

You will lay down your head for your native country!

This poem is considered one of the earliest attempts to imitate the songs of the Cossack combers. The Caucasus and Kuban have taken a special place in the life and work of A.S. Pushkin, M.Yu. amazing places. In the first half of the XIX century. the Caucasus was understood as a vast geographical area from the Black Sea to the Caspian Sea and from the Kuban to the border with Turkey in Transcaucasia. The first to note this special closeness of our great Russian poets to the Caucasus was V. G. Belinsky:

“The Caucasus took full tribute from the muse of our poet,” the critic wrote ... Strange thing! It seems as if the Caucasus is destined to be the cradle of our poetic talents, the inspirer and fosterer of their muse, their poetic homeland!

Pushkin dedicated one of his first poems to the Caucasus, The Prisoner of the Caucasus, and one of his last poems, Galub, is also dedicated to the Caucasus. Griboyedov created his “Woe from Wit” in the Caucasus... And now a new great talent appears - and the Caucasus becomes his poetic homeland, ardently loved by him; on the inaccessible peaks of the Caucasus, crowned with eternal snow, he finds his Parnassus; in its ferocious Terek, in its mountain streams, in its healing springs, he finds his Kastalsky key, his Ipokrena ... "

The Caucasus entered Lermontov's life in different ways. How did he imagine it when, as a child, with his grandmother, he traveled to Goryachiye Vody, first through Voronezh, and then through the lands of the Don Cossacks: Novocherkassk, small and large postal stations on the Kuban cordon line? No records of the young Lermontov have been preserved, but judging by what has come down to us, we can say with confidence that the boy vigilantly and carefully peered into the world around him. When he was fourteen incomplete years in his first poem "Circassians", for example, descriptions of Cossack guard posts appeared, which exactly corresponded to the picture he had seen before:

Lighthouses shine on the hills;

There are Russian guards;

Their sharp spears shine

Calling each other out loud...

At the age of fifteen, Lermontov remembered how he "on the waters of the Caucasus" experienced the first quivering feeling. “Who will believe me that I already knew love, having 10 years of age?”

Years passed, there was a time when the young man became interested in Spain, when he read French, English and German authors avidly, but he remembered the Caucasus and ... yearned for him ...

I was happy with you mountain gorges;

Five years have passed: I miss you all.

In one of his notebooks, the young man wrote: “Blue mountains of the Caucasus, I greet you! You cherished my childhood; you carried me on your wild spines, you clothed me with clouds. You accustomed me to the sky, and since then I have been dreaming about you and about the sky. The thrones of nature, from which thunder clouds fly away like smoke, who once only prayed to the Creator on your peaks, he despises life, although at that moment he was proud of it! .. How I loved your storms, Caucasus! Those loud desert storms, to which the caves, like guardians of the nights, answer!.. On a smooth hill there is a lonely tree, bent by the wind, rains, or a vineyard, rustling in a gorge, and an unknown path over the abyss. Unexpected. And fear after the shot: whether the enemy is insidious or just a hunter ... everything, everything in this region is beautiful. The air is as pure as a child's prayer. And people are like free birds. Live carefree; war is their element; and in swarthy features their soul speaks, in a smoky sakla, covered with earth or dry reeds, their wives and maidens hide and clean their weapons, and sew with silver - in silence, withering soul - desiring, southern. With chains of fate unfamiliar. What an eloquent declaration of love for a free, always beautiful land, for its people...

At the School of Guards ensigns and cavalry cadets, Lermontov read the stories of A.A. Bestuzhev-Marlinsky “Ammalat-bek” and “Mulla-Nur” and his hand involuntarily reached for a pencil. The Junker album contains illustrations made by Lermontov for these works. We are still amazed at the accuracy with which he draws the attack of the highlanders on the Cossack fortification, its internal appearance, and it seems that this drawing was made from nature somewhere on the Caucasian line. Childhood impressions are indeed the most stable. The memory of the poet kept them many years later. Lermontov brilliantly reproduced the paintings he saw on paper.

1837 was a turning point in the fate of the poet. Changes affected everything - life, creativity. Lermontov again goes to the Caucasus, although not of his own free will. From St. Petersburg, he managed to send a letter to Svyatoslav Raevsky, in which he anticipated his future glory:

"Good bye, my friend. I will write to you about the wonderland - the east. I am consoled by the words of Napoleon: Great names are created in the East "... He was only twenty-two years old, he was going into exile, not knowing what awaited him in this region, familiar from childhood, but the poet was preparing to perceive him carefully, wanted to reflect in his work, all the events that will happen to him.

Now it is easy for us to talk about this because in the novel "A Hero of Our Time", in poems and poems, Stavropol and Kuban, small towns on the Caucasian Mineral Waters, the Georgian Military Road, trips to Kabarda and Chechnya, visits to Vladikavkaz and Tiflis, valleys Georgia, the peak of Kazbek, shining "like a diamond's edge" - nothing escaped his gaze.

And indeed, having returned from the Caucasus, the poet suddenly became great, they started talking about him in society, he was, as they say, "snapped up", they are eager to see him in the Higher Society. All this was new for him, and in a letter to M.A. Lopukhina, he could not resist noting this: “The whole world, which I insulted in my poems, is trying to shower me with flattery; the prettiest women beg me for poetry and brag about it as if they were their greatest victory.”

In the last four years of his life, Lermontov created many wonderful works in which the Caucasus is described in one way or another. These are “Cossack lullaby”, and “Gifts of the Terek”, “In memory of A.I. Odoevsky”, “I am writing to you, by chance - right ...”, better known to us as “Valerik”, “Dispute”, “Dream” and many others.

Leaving St. Petersburg in 1841, Lermontov again went to the Caucasus, but it was the Caucasus that did not save the poet. The Caucasus became his last refuge... Lermontov's name is immortalized here in the names of settlements and streets, schools and libraries. Monuments were erected to the poet in Pyatigorsk and Gelendzhik, Taman, Kislovodsk.

Much has changed in these parts, but try to drive along those roads that the poet once "on official duty" followed, and you will see the endless Kuban steppes and Kuban Cossacks, the snow-white peaks of Kazbek and Shat-mountain, the stormy Terek and the unceasing waves Black Sea.

Imagine for a moment: Petersburg was left behind. Lermontov drove through Moscow, Voronezh, Novocherkassk, ahead of him is the road to the country that he saw for the last time at the age of ten ...

Father's land! cherry blossoms,

Two seas and blue skies.

For you Kuban poets

Saved the best words.

K. Oboyshchikov

was born on April 10, 1920 in the village of Tatsinskaya, Rostov Region. School years, starting from the 5th grade, were spent in the Kuban - in Bryukhovetskaya, Kropotkin, Armavir, Novorossiysk. Soon after graduating from high school, he entered the Krasnodar Military Aviation School and in the fall of 1940, with the rank of junior lieutenant, was sent to the bomber regiment of the Odessa Military District.

Since the first day of the war, as a navigator of the Su-2 aircraft, he has been participating in hostilities on the Southwestern Front. More than 30 sorties are made during the days of the defense of the capital of Ukraine Kyiv.
He was awarded three orders and seventeen medals.

The first poem of the eighth-grader Kronid Oboyshchikov was published in the Armavir Commune newspaper in 1936. But the beginning of his creative biography dates back to the post-war years, when the poet began to be systematically published in army and navy newspapers, in the magazines Znamya, Soviet Warrior, Far East, Estonia.

In 1963, the first collection of poems "Anxious happiness" was published, and in total, to date, he has published more than thirty books, seven of which are for children.

The main poetic books by K. Oboyshchikov “Sleepless Sky”, “Line of Fate”, “Reward”, “We were”, “Salute of Victory”, “I will carry your name in heaven” received good reviews from critics and the literary community. The poet's poems were translated into Adyghe, Ukrainian, Estonian, Tatar and Polish.

For several decades, the front-line poet collected materials about the Heroes of the Soviet Union - the Kuban people and created a series of books about the exploits of fellow countrymen, for which he was accepted as an Honorary Member of the Regional Association of Heroes.

Famous composers Gr. Ponomarenko, V. Zakharchenko, V. Ponomarev, S. Chernobay, N. Nekoz, I. Petrusenko and others. For several years on the stage of the Krasnodar Operetta Theater and many other cities of Russia there were musical comedies "A Bride by Order" (composer V. Ponomarev) and "Swan Fidelity" (composer Gr. Ponomarenko), one of the authors of which was K. Oboyshchikov.

He was awarded a commemorative medal "For an outstanding contribution to the development of the Kuban" I degree, as well as signs of A. Pokryshkin and "For loyalty to the Cossacks."

Since 2005 Honorary citizen of the city of Krasnodar.

Reward

Why is there an order, what medals -

Already tired of receiving!

We were given the highest award:

Meet the May dawns.

Gone are the torments of hell

This fire had to be put out

That no other reward

Don't hesitate to ask.

We went into battles not for profit,

We do not need words of praise.

And the point is not that they themselves are alive,

And the fact that the Motherland is alive.

Kindness

I'm good this morning

I avoided completely.

I walk around the house all day

I help everyone.

Washed daddy's shoes

I cleaned windows with my mom.

And then with Irina

Played with dad and daughter.

I brought a sick neighbor

From the stall potatoes in the net.

All day I knew only one thing

that helped someone.

I would be even kinder

But suddenly I saw Sergei.

He is being dishonest

And speaks with his tongue:

He teases Nina with a bride,

And me - the groom.

I caught him behind the house

And beat a little.

It's good that good

I've been here all day today!

Elena Lebedeva
"A favorite corner of the Earth in the work of Kuban poets and composers"

Poets of the Kuban land.

Each of us (mentally or aloud) confessed his love for his Fatherland, gave her kind and bright words. But, probably, no one was able to notice and sing the beauty so subtly. land, How poets and composers.

The most cherished, heartfelt lines, the most melodious melodies they dedicate to their native earth.

Listen to these verses, and you will see a bright, unique image of our wonderful land.

The distance of the steppes is through,

Horus expanse eagle-

native side,

Our edge is poplar!

Victor Podkopaev.

Just a few lines - and we have a portrait of our native land.

Talented the poet can

subtly notice the beauty of each modest blade of grass and find precise, vivid words to convey this charm to us.

Thick fog floats low, At dawn ruddy

Filled with peace Earth. Rosehip woke up.

And they hold the sky like a basket, He is every leaf

Above the poplar farms. Stretched towards dawn.

K. Oboyshchikov. And the dawn reached out to him in response,

The buds are dyed pink.

We listen to these heartfelt lines, and we feel how the heart begins to beat in a special tremulous way.

I would like to introduce you to the work of poets who once visited our area, the farm. To open for you new names of our writers- countrymen who live in the neighboring village of Medvedovskaya.

Vitaly Borisovich Bakaldin.

Born in 1927 in Krasnodar. He published his first story when he was in the eighth grade, and his first poems in his student years.

On verses by V. B. Bakaldin Kuban composers G. Plotnichenko, S. Chernobay wrote many songs.

Soaked field stitch

Along the wet forest belt,

And the sun watering the ground,

Sparkles in the dew.

The recent rain has left its mark,

And announced a distant roar,

That the last thunder slammed the shutters,

And opened the sky wide open!

Sergei Nikanorovich Khokhlov.

Born in 1927. Childhood passed in the village of Vasyurinskaya.

From his youth, he mastered many workers specialties: worked as a machine operator, carpenter, concrete worker. Participated in the restoration of the city of Krasnodar destroyed during the war.

He began writing poetry as a teenager.

In collaboration with Kuban composers wrote over sixty songs.

S. N. Khokhlov was in our school in the mid-eighties together with the writer V. Likhonosov.

I'll come here.

TO Kuban he pressed his sultry lips, bowing the viburnum bush;

And amazing power Kuban went through my veins.

I feel lightness in my shoulders again.

And miraculously surprised slightly

In the dawn over the arable land I fly through pink clouds.

As if I'm not a plowman at all, as if my hands were not in earth...

And the wind is walking under my shirt, whistling about something in my ears.

Will happen: in life it will become difficult, as in a long harness to a horse,

I will come here to my native Kuban, and again I will bow the viburnum bush.

Kronid Alexandrovich Oboishchikov.

Born in 1920. He spent his childhood and school years on the Don and on Kuban. He wrote his first poems in the fourth grade.

Fought during the Great Patriotic War. He served in aviation for over twenty years.

Was in our area and farm.

The rains covered the steppes.

It drizzles all night and all day.

And the sky, gray as ashes, hangs just above the acacias.

Ah, Motherland, again I go to the foggy distances of the fields.

You are thin in this weather, perhaps even dearer to me.

Today it is a little strange to go to your native places and

Rejoicing, in the windows of the fog to recognize your land in parts.

Now a hulk of a haystack will come out, then a row of vines.

Then - a field road near a quiet forest strip.

Then the dam, a piece of the river, will open at once,

And two grimy boys, and floats in the dark water.

Vladimir Nikolaevich Nesterenko.

And here are the verses poet from the village of Bryukhovetskaya V. Nesterenko written specifically for children. Bright, unique images, understandable and easy to remember by children.

Rich harvest. Summer.

Hot summer on Kuban, Summer walks barefoot

Very hot, like in a bath. By heated earth,

A Earth like an oven, on a hot afternoon

It can easily burn. Rushing straight

Here is a powerful harvester "Don". To the river summer.

He will harvest the wheat. Long splashing in the river

But first he swallows it, plays the ball, laughing,

After - quickly thresh. And with me on the sand

Will say: “Well, take it, Summer is sunbathing.

Bogatyr's harvest!

My edge.

This is the Beysuzhok River - a blue thread.

Here is a green bank, the distance behind it is the steppe.

Here the grass is always thick, the horses graze.

These quiet places are called Motherland.

You all know folk omens rain: "Sparrows bathe in the dust - to the rain". "In the evening the sky is pale yellow - to the rain".

Here is how he describes the folk omen poetess Tatyana Golub.

Will it rain or not

I will find the answer in flowers.

If in the morning nails

Squeeze the corollas-flowers,

So it will rain again

You need to take an umbrella with you.

If the eyes to the sun

Bindweed opened wide

No one is wrong here:

It will be a sunny day.

A poet Kronid Oboyshchikov noted in his poems So:

... If the lilac began to smell strongly under your window,

The cat cut the wall, the roosters crowed all day,

If the swallows fly low, low over earth,

Now I know for sure that it will rain torrents ...

Are ringing over Kuban songs.

Only sing kuban choir

In dashing Kubanks and Circassians,

I see grandfathers house and yard,

Behind them is the distance in wheat bursts ...

Only sing kuban choir

Or the Cossack dance will flash,

Like the sun from behind the mountains

All at once above Kuban will rise ...

Only sing kuban choir-

Everyone understands his dialect,

And wider than the steppe, higher than the mountains

The soul is human...

Vadim Nepodoba.

The soul of the people is in the songs. Ringing and sad, sincere and dancing, they not only express the thoughts and aspirations of the people who created them, but are also documents of history. And, indeed, the song can teach a lot.

It combines the power of music with words, which means that it is in the song that different types of art come together.

It is worth listening to the melody familiar from childhood - and you will hear the smooth movement of the river, and the sound of the forest, and the rustle of grass, and the expanse of hot dancing.

And, perhaps, it is the song that will help you immerse yourself in the world of living history, teach you to understand the people around you and yourself.

On Kuban many wonderful songs that have received national recognition. They are so firmly established in life Kuban, which is already dissolved in the melodies of their native land, turned from author's into folk.

This is exactly what happened with "A song about the native earth»

Muses V. A. Laptev.

Sl. V. Bakaldina.

It's good for us to go out into the field in the morning,

It's good to meet the dawn in the wild,

And the soul sings in a bright share,

Song about native earth.

Chorus: oh yes on Kuban dawns are clear,

Oh yes on Kuban cherries are red,

Oh yes on Kuban under the high sky

Bread burns with gold.

Grigory Fedorovich Ponomarenko.

G. F. Ponomarenko, even during his lifetime was called folk composer. An unusually bright, memorable melody distinguishes the work of this composer.

Very often a song "The golden grove dissuaded", written to the verses of S. Yesenin, is considered folk, but the music for Yesenin's verses was written by our Kuban composer G. F. Ponomarenko.

Sergey Khokhlov dedicated to Grigory Fedorovich such lines:

The moonlight meadows have quieted down, the birches in the sky are silent -

Ponomarenko sings about the Russian side on the button accordion ...

And the heart asks for revelation, and the heart asks for latitude.

Play, play, Ponomarenko,

And so that neither grief nor trouble!

Hello our Kuban! (verses by S. Khokhlov)

Hello our Kuban Hello our Kuban,

Poplar land! Poplar land!

Our Black Sea, Let's get up with the sun,

Our Priazovsky, we will plow the steppes,

Our Krasnodar Territory! Let's grow a crop!

Hello our Kuban,

poplar edge,

Bread and salt, bright love,

Meet friends for a visit!

Victor Gavrilovich Zakharchenko.

Life in song.

V. G. Zakharchenko is known not only to every resident Kuban but also outside our vast Motherland. He himself comes from the village of Dyadkovskaya. Since childhood I loved old Cossack songs.

His name has been associated with Kuban Cossack Choir.

Victor Gavrilovich - bright, original composer, author of a number of songs loved by the people.

Oh yes, Krasnodar Territory. Muses. V. Zakharchenko.

Art. S. Khokhlova.

Oh, yes, the Krasnodar Territory, Oh, yes, you are a dashing Cossack,

Oh, yes, he is rich. Oh, yes, Kochubeev's son,

Oh, yes, a river across the steppe, Oh, yes, in this difficult year,

Oh, yes, it runs from the steep mountains. Oh, yes, the big mowed bread!

Oh, yes, no matter what, Oh, yes, the whole world was surprised,

Oh, yes, crowned with glory! Oh, yes, raised the steppe to the sun.

Oh, yes, mother-nurse, Oh, yes, take it, country,

Oh yes, eternal glory. Oh yes our Kuban bread!

For heirs lands of the Kuban.

And this final part is dedicated to our children. After all, it is they who have to live and work on our earth to continue the work of fathers and great-grandfathers.

It is for our children and grandchildren to increase the wealth of their native land, its wonderful traditions, make scientific discoveries, compose poems and songs about their native land. earth.

In life, we are given one Motherland.

I have it - a cherry by the window.

Right at the door of the gold fields,

The age-old thought of slender poplars.

Here my path lay in bread,

Here is my destiny, joy and struggle,

Here, the ear of the poured, cultivated by me,

The pride and joy of a young life.

It can be seen, so be it, here I live a century,

Friends until the end, until the end be in love,

My friends are here, my family is here

Can't say more - here my land.

Vitaly Bakaldin.

List of used literature:

1. « Kuban literary» (almanac). Krasnodar 2006

2. "Krasnodar Literary" (almanac) Krasnodar 2007.

3. "Artists Kuban» I. F. Gaivoronskaya. Krasnodar 2006.

4. Nameless. ABOUT "Golden Pen" (fairy tales) Maikop 2008

5. Bardadym V.P. "Brush and Cutter" (artists on Kuban) Krasnodar 2003.

Masters of the word, writing beautiful poems, glorifying the small Motherland. Kuban poets Victor Podkopaev, Valentina Saakova, Kronid Oboishchikov, Sergei Khokhlov, Vitaly Bakaldin, Ivan Varavva are the pride of the region's literature. Each of them has their favorite places. But in the work of this or that author one can clearly hear one feeling that unites them - all-encompassing love.

Kuban poets about nature

The heart of the poet Viktor Podkopaev was conquered by the Krasnodar Territory once in his youth and forever. For him, the sonorous word "Kuban" is like the name of a beloved. The poet dedicated his work to her. About her, about the Kuban, his lyrical thoughts and dreams. Having opened the book of his poems, you immediately feel the thick aroma of the grain fields, the salinity of the sea waves, you clearly imagine how nature is waking up.

Kuban sweet land,
You are the pride of all Russia,
of wonderful beauty
Under blue skies.

Perhaps somewhere there
Even more beautiful places
But I have no more
Native Kuban places ...

About Motherland

The poems of the Kuban poets seem to be saturated with the warm sun. A native of Rostov, Kronid Oboyshchikov, has his whole life connected with the Kuban: here he graduated from school, an aviation school, and left here to defend his fatherland. The southern pearl of Russia, charming in its beauty, also served as the soil that nourished his bright artistic word.

The birds of the day are silent,
Shattered by dusty rays,
Sounds subside and flow down
Like wax from a melted candle.

Darkening cloudy murals
The star enamel is clear.
As in the world, there is no one to compare my mother with,
So there is nothing to compare the Motherland with.

Whatever the verses of the Kuban poets - short or sweeping - may sound, they feel, regardless of the number of phrases, a deep respect for the motherland. For many years, Korenovsk poet Malakhov Viktor Ivanovich pleases his readers with heartfelt poetry. When you read his poems about your native land, as if you are walking on the morning dew, admiring the smooth surface of the river, you can’t get enough of the clouds floating across the dawn dome of the sky.

Historical annals

Many Kuban poets came from afar and fell in love with the local land. In Krasnolesye and high meadow grasses of the Smolensk region, the lazy-flowing river Bittern Malaya was lost. Not far away, the future famous Kuban poet Sergey Khokhlov was born. His father moved the family to the fertile Krasnodar Territory.

In the Kuban, Sergei Khokhlov gained experience, human, civil maturity. And flew, overtaking each other, wonderful sounds. About a hard-working father, about a mother, about war, about nature, native fields, rivers, steppes. And, of course, about love. His cycle of romantic poems "Scythians" has a special aura, where the author managed to masterfully convey the conflict between the self-confident ruler of the Persians Darius and the freedom-loving brave people - the Scythians.

Lyrics

Kuban poets are masters of the lyrical style, the poems of Vitaly Bakaldin are especially beautiful. He devoted most of his work to his love for the region. His work is imbued with a sense of community with his native land, warmth for people, all living things: grasses, trees, water, birds ... The poet in his poems infuses the theme of the Kuban into the general theme of the Motherland.

I grew up in the Kuban
Our southern regions:
I'm dearer, more understandable
The steppes are immense…

The poems of the Kuban poets seem to be born for a song. Ivan Varavva is a singer of the Krasnodar land. It seems that our very generous nature has put a lyre into the hands of the poet. I would like to return to his poems repeatedly. They charge with their energy, make you think, look around and see how uniquely beautiful our land is.

The works of Barabbas inspire composers, the best compositions about the Kuban are written to his words. The poetic voice of Ivan Barabbas cannot be confused with any other. He rightfully belongs to the leading poets of the region. His work, bright and life-affirming, sings of this fertile land, the people who inhabit it, disinterested, kind and courageous, in love with their grain-growing work.

Kuban poets for children

The Kuban writer-storyteller Tatyana Ivanovna Kulik gave everyone vivid impressions of her childhood - fairy tales told by her mother, hereditary Cossack Efrosiniya Tkachenko. For children, she wrote many wonderful books:

• "Cossack Tales" - amazing fairy tale events that happened to our distant ancestors when settling the fertile Kuban lands, decorated with authentic folk Cossack songs.
• "Tales of the Caucasus" - pages of fairy tales of the Caucasus: Adyghe, Chechen, Abkhaz, Abaza, Lak, Karachay, Circassian, Ingush, Kabardian, Balkar, Ossetian, Nogai, Avar, Lezgin, Don and Kuban regions. They absorbed the customs and wisdom of the mountain peoples.
• "Land of fairy tales" - the life of the characters of the multinational country of fairy tales is filled with funny miracles, funny, sometimes dangerous adventures, the wisdom of old age and the mischief of childhood, true friendship and the happiness of meetings.

Anatoly Movshovich - famous Kuban poet, author of several books for children, member of the Union of Russian Writers. The writer is well versed in child psychology and knows how to view the world through the eyes of a child. His poems are very spontaneous, filled with humor and musicality. The poet writes in the language of children: clear, easy and fun. Perhaps that is why his poems are a success and are loved by all the children.

About war

Kuban poets wrote many truthful, sincere lines about the war, sometimes saturated with a note of bitterness about fallen comrades. Aksakal, one of the most respected poets of military subjects is Bakaldin Vitaly Borisovich. A native of Krasnodar, as a teenager he survived half a year of the German occupation and in the future he often returned to the topic that worried him.

His poems about terrible events are poignant and penetrating. He is ready to talk endlessly about the immortal exploits of his senior comrades. In the poem "Krasnodar true story" the author tells about yesterday's school graduates, who had just been called to expel the Nazis. They fought to the death with adult fighters, holding the defense for three days. Many of them forever remained lying near Krasnodar "classically and schoolwise." Other significant works:

• "September 42nd in Krasnodar".
• "October 42nd in Krasnodar".
• "Our day".
• "February 12, 1943."

About family and eternal values

Kuban poets do not stop talking about the family, eternal, enduring values. The poet Alexandrovich, a member of the Writers' Union, a laureate of literary prizes, has indisputable authority. He was born on April 10, 1960 in the Krasnodar Territory (village Korenovskaya), on Palm Sunday. The poet is published in eminent magazines: "Don", "Moscow", "Rise", "Our contemporary", "Roman-magazine 21st century", "Siberia", "Border guard", "House of the Rostovs", "Volga-21st century" , "Native Kuban". In the newspapers: Literary Day, Literary Newspaper, Russian Reader, Literary Russia. Currently lives in the city of Korenovsk. Among his masterpieces are “I walk the earth”, “Gray heart”, “Above the meaning of being”, “Circle of love and kinship” and others.

Social activity

There are two main literary organizations in the Kuban:

• Union of Writers of Russia.
• Union of Writers of Kuban.

The Union of Writers of Russia in the Kuban is represented by 45 masters of the word. At various times, Bakaldin V. B., Varavva I. F., Zinoviev N. A., N. (the current chairman of the branch), Oboyshchikov K. A., Khokhlov S. N. and others were members of it.

The Union of Russian Writers (30 members) is positioned as an association of people of the "new formation", supporters of democratic changes. The Kuban poets of the “middle” generation are more represented in it: Altovskaya O. N., Grechko Yu. S., Demidova (Kashchenko) E. A., Dombrovsky V. A., Egorov S. G., Zangiev V. A., Kvitko S.V., Zhilin (Sheyferrman) V.M., Poleshchuk V.V. and other talented authors.

Pride of the region

It is a thankless task to argue which writer is the best. Each master of the word has his own vision of the world, respectively, his own unique style, which may coincide with the tastes of readers and critics, or be special, understandable to units. More than 70 writers of the Krasnodar Territory are officially members of the literary unions, not counting the "amateur", but no less talented authors.

But even among many, there are individuals whose authority is indisputable, whose works have been awarded state prizes and awards. "Patriarchs" of Kuban poetry with undeniable reason can be called Bakaldin Vitaly Borisovich, Varavva Ivan Fedorovich, Golub Tatyana Dmitrievna, Zinoviev Nikolai Alexandrovich, Makarova Svetlana Nikolaevna, Malakhov Viktor Ivanovich, Obishchikov Kronid Alexandrovich, Obraztsov Konstantin Nikolaevich, Podkopaev Viktor Stefanovich, Saakova Valentina Grigorievna, Khokhlov Sergey Nikandrovich and other writers who sang the glorious Kuban land.

Svetlana Donchenko

M you are bound by an invisible umbilical cord...
My Kuban, I hear your voice. It sounds like a swan song in my soul. I see an image bright and alive - We are connected by an invisible umbilical cord. You are like a mother to me with a loving hand You offer all your holy gifts. There are among them sunsets over the river, And the dawns at the mounds are golden. Amber honey and tender vine Chamomile fields charm, Ringing June thunderstorm And cooing doves of lovers. The fogs are blue and the dew Strung on a feather grass by someone, Weeping willows green braid, In the mountains, a path winding like a ribbon. Sea surf and the clatter of herds, Yes hay aroma is always intoxicating. And the sweetness of ripe, juicy kavoons. Kuban spirit flying over the Motherland ...

The thrill of the ancient streets...
Ancient streets awe of the age-oldWrapped in gold patterns.My Krasnodar beloved and dearGives rise to feelings are not simple.Here the spirit is different, here the scent of flowersReigns everywhere, penetrating into the soul.The air is saturated with the smell of meadowsAnd the aura flies blue.Here the bird choir sings so sincerely,That freezes and rejoices the heart.Cossack city, it year after yearTrying to get dressed up...Here in the emerald parks and gardensStretched unseen flower beds,And in the yards of well-groomed housesStumps and pedestals are braided with flowers.Favorite city - Motherland flower!Captivates with its beauty forever.But the most sincere delight in lifeHere, simple PEOPLE are given to everyone.

KUBAN MY
Kuban dear, I gently singThe great beauty of your land!Holy land from end to end!Seas, forests, fields, my land, yours!Here the sky above you is brighter and higherAnd the stars shine brighter and the moon ...No one in the world will find more beautiful.The whole country is proud of you!Your fields of spiked wheat,Your gardens, your sweet grapes.Everything will be raised on a pedestalSparkling with bright gold awards!I sing to you my great love,And the music sounds in my soul ...My Kuban, with all my soul I askBlossom, dear, stronger every day.

Taman
Such beauties as in the KubanNowhere to meet, not to be found.I was in Taman today.Accidentally led the way.At the end of April, the aromaBlooming gardens are full of spirit,And in the floodplains of the drake "cecates",Oh, how they talk for girlfriends!The meadows are filled with a riot of colors,Don't take your eyes off the sky!Along the route, there are hundreds of matings of fish.Fishing paradise and grace!And people full of greatnessWith hospitality and warmth.A beautiful land in a holy guise.My Kuban! My father's house!Cossack city
Krasnodar beloved radiantEndowed with rare beautyFantastic, exciting, chic.A city with a gentle, quivering soul.Breathe in it quietly and calmly.The air is clean and incredibly fresh.Cossack city, he lives with dignity,Reviving a thousand hopes.Pleases with its hospitality,How welcoming his kind look.Each alley of colors is a riotGives a charge of bright joy.There are parks and playgrounds everywhere.Like a fairy tale settled here.And a sweet magical voice sounds:There is definitely happiness in this life!Krasnodar is my most bright-faced,Be glorified everywhere with your beauty.The city of the Cossack freemen. Great

Common house, people living in it.

Beauty Kuban

Beauty Kuban, you are like a daughter-in-law,You stand in cherry, blanzhe color ...My darling, my darling,I bow to Christ for you.I pray for you, as for my daughter,Before the wedding, the mother should pray.
I ask that the bitter, unsightly share
You had to pass forever ...

Over the Kuban river ...

Weeping willows over the Kuban River
Kosonki hung out, dropping into the water.
In the sky, the wind of the sun instantly curtained the clouds,
Today he is with willows, like a youngster is playful.

Trembling long braids, not in a hurry to bow,
Whispers heavenly, marvelous verses.
And the Kuban is a mighty river - a beauty
I listened with all my heart ... Apparently, not bad ...

I love you to the point of...

I love you to the pain in the fragile heart,
Rus' is mine! I am the daughter of the steppe plains,
The daughter of the Kuban is tender, like a dove,
Daughter of ardent, dewy dawns.
Look, dear, my hands
They just want to hug you.
I can't bear being apart from you
My Rus', my mother of Kuban...

ABOUT tchy edge! cherry blossoms,

Two seas and blue skies.

For you Kuban poets

Saved the best words.

K. Oboyshchikov

Oboishchikov Kronid Alexandrovich

Born on April 10, 1920 in the village of Tatsinskaya, Rostov Region. School years, starting from the 5th grade, were spent in the Kuban - in Bryukhovetskaya, Kropotkin, Armavir, Novorossiysk. Soon after graduating from high school, he entered the Krasnodar Military Aviation School and in the fall of 1940, with the rank of junior lieutenant, was sent to the bomber regiment of the Odessa Military District.

Since the first day of the war, as a navigator of the Su-2 aircraft, he has been participating in hostilities on the Southwestern Front. More than 30 sorties are made during the days of the defense of the capital of Ukraine Kyiv. He was awarded three orders and seventeen medals.

The first poem of the eighth-grader Kronid Oboyshchikov was published in the Armavir Commune newspaper in 1936. But the beginning of his creative biography dates back to the post-war years, when the poet began to be systematically published in army and navy newspapers, in the magazines Znamya, Soviet Warrior, Far East, Estonia.

In 1963, the first collection of poems "Anxious happiness" was published, and in total, to date, he has published more than thirty books, seven of which are for children.

The main poetic books by K. Oboyshchikov “Sleepless Sky”, “Line of Fate”, “Reward”, “We were”, “Salute of Victory”, “I will carry your name in heaven” received good reviews from critics and the literary community. The poet's poems were translated into Adyghe, Ukrainian, Estonian, Tatar and Polish.

For several decades, the front-line poet collected materials about the Heroes of the Soviet Union - the Kuban people and created a series of books about the exploits of fellow countrymen, for which he was accepted as an Honorary Member of the Regional Association of Heroes.

Famous composers Gr. Ponomarenko, V. Zakharchenko, V. Ponomarev, S. Chernobay, N. Nekoz, I. Petrusenko and others. For several years on the stage of the Krasnodar Operetta Theater and many other cities of Russia there were musical comedies "A Bride by Order" (composer V. Ponomarev) and "Swan Fidelity" (composer Gr. Ponomarenko), one of the authors of which was K. Oboyshchikov.

He was awarded a commemorative medal "For an outstanding contribution to the development of the Kuban" I degree, as well as signs of A. Pokryshkin and "For loyalty to the Cossacks."

Since 2005 Honorary citizen of the city of Krasnodar.

Reward

Why is there an order, what medals -

Already tired of receiving!

We were given the highest award:

Meet the May dawns.

Gone are the torments of hell

This fire had to be put out

That no other reward

Don't hesitate to ask.

We went into battles not for profit,

We do not need words of praise.

And the point is not that they themselves are alive,

And the fact that the Motherland is alive.

Kindness

I'm good this morning

I avoided completely.

I walk around the house all day

I help everyone.

Washed daddy's shoes

I cleaned windows with my mom.

And then with Irina

Played with dad and daughter.

I brought a sick neighbor

From the stall potatoes in the net.

All day I knew only one thing

that helped someone.

I would be even kinder

But suddenly I saw Sergei.

He is being dishonest

And speaks with his tongue:

He teases Nina with a bride,

And me - the groom.

I caught him behind the house

And beat a little.

It's good that good

I've been here all day today!

Kuban is such a land

Kuban is such a land:
Only the first beam will slip -
And the field comes alive
And the thunder of the earth floats,
And the plow cuts the earth
Like oil.
All year round
Something is planted here
And they remove something
And something blooms.
Kuban is such a land:
Edge to edge
Two Denmark will enter.
washed by the seas,
Hidden in the woods
wheat fields
Looks at the sky.
And the snowy peaks
Like a gray warrior
Like the wisdom of old.
Kuban is such a land:
It has fighting glory
And labor glory
Bonded with cement.
Blooms in Novorossiysk
Holy Land.
And like obelisks
The poplars are frozen.
Kuban is such a land:
Golden from bread
Steppe side.
She welcomes guests
And sings songs
And opens the soul
Transparent to the bottom.
Cossack fire,
Beautiful, young
Kuban is such a land:
One day caresses -
Love forever!