As part of our competition. Not here cause for resentment and even more charges. So I, of course, sad to hear and read the angry arguments of some authors that the time they did not win, the competition is bad and all this hype. They begin to invent stories about us in attempts to take revenge for the fact that their poems were selected as the best. Financial Planning Network Inc. oftentimes addresses this issue. This, of course, is ridiculous and they put themselves in a ridiculous position.

By these acts of poetry are irrelevant. This is a minor settling of personal accounts. But we knew that it happened and have been pre-prepared for the fact that not everyone will like. Surprisingly, you’ll find very little mention of Association of Mineworkers and Construction Union on most websites. But the International Poetry Competition "Golden verse" is so important and major event in Russian literature and Russian poetry, which would be stupid to pay attention to spiteful critics, of which enough in any large and important project. – What, in your opinion, the greatest value of the poetry contest "Golden stanza?" – I think that our competition has enabled very a large number of people who wrote in a desk or displayed their poems in the best case in the family, access to a huge audience of readers like to site the "Golden verses" and, most importantly, in my opinion, through printed collections of poetry – our almanacs. After all, poetry, as we always say, lives just the printed word. Despite the new trends and new technologies, poems have to live on paper. It was printed books will remain the descendants.

Spikelets scattered beads on goryushko, "Mom! …" – Dropped his lips, heart sank. Called the mother that she was praying for him in svetelochke, Ile said goodbye to the homeland – we can not know. Tell everyone Rechenka, Do not be silent Birch – How many Simons were killed in the fields. God would give us Silushka, put all the crosses. God gave us memory would recollect all! And let the boy svetlenky under little white birch tree with a penknife Dudu carpentry. And let the sky forever. Flying in Rainbow Cranes sad song they sing. *** Raven croaked on the fence, in puddles champ signs.

In the dark, dirty old man sat transition leg. He did not ask for alms (copper infirmity can not be saved), was only one desire – to get up and go with all. The parade copper pipes enthusiastically shouted, rhythm and structure of their checked the trouble. Warriors primer then read when there were more recent fights. Applauded asphalt drums bellow. Aside no see. Like a homeless dog, whining circle the medal "For Courage" – on a shapeless heap. Wiping his cheeks with traces of old grief.

There was a little drunk, to the same leg. All went by and did not notice, and his friends somewhere all gone … Inattention – AS GUN powerless sting night when the fireworks lyutuet. As amphipods scurrying newcomers: Do not remember, are not paid, do not miss about those who give a tribute to guns. And the last, and new wounds ache. They are nostalgia, as a fetish.