Problems of modern education.

POEMS ABOUT AUTUMN

Autumn is golden
A. Yaranova

Autumn is golden
Walks along the paths.
She has knives
Yellow boots.

On her dress
colored leaves,
And in her basket
There are forest mushrooms.

Summer flies away
E. Trutneva

Did it suddenly become twice as bright?
Yard in the sun
This dress is golden
At the birch on the shoulders.

At viburnum and rowan
Thrushes fly in flocks.
Under the window, the dahlias are proud of their beauty.

And creaks in the bushes all evening
Invisible jumper.
It's you, violinist-grasshopper,
Two springs instead of legs?

In the morning we go to the yard -
Leaves fall like rain
Rustle underfoot
And fly, fly, fly...

Gossamer webs fly
With spiders in the middle.
And high from the ground
The cranes flew by.

Everything flies! It must be
Our pet is flying!

Autumn
V. Avdienko

Autumn walks along the path
Wet her feet in puddles.
It's raining
And there is no light.
Lost somewhere summer.

Autumn is coming
Autumn wanders.
Wind with maple leaves
Reset.

New carpet underfoot
Yellow-pink -
Maple.

E. Trutneva

In the morning we go to the yard
Leaves fall like rain
rustling underfoot,
And fly, fly, fly.

V. Mirovich

All the trees flew around
Only firs are green
The forests have become bare.
Day and night it rains,
Mud and puddles at the gate.

herringbone
O. Vysotskaya

Not a leaf, not a blade of grass!
Our garden has become quiet.
And birches and aspens
Boring stand.

Only one Christmas tree
Cheerful and green.
It can be seen that she is not afraid of frost,
She looks brave!

Autumn
Z. Fedorovskaya

Autumn at the edge of the paint bred,
On the foliage quietly brushed:
The hazel turned yellow and the maples blushed,
In autumn purple, only green oak.
Autumn comforts:
- Don't feel sorry for the summer!
Look - the grove is dressed in gold!

***
A. Pushkin

Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less
The day was getting shorter
Forests mysterious canopy
With a sad noise she was naked,
Fog fell on the fields
geese noisy caravan
Stretched to the south: approaching
Pretty boring time;
November was already at the yard ...

Autumn
V. Avdienko

Autumn walks along the path
Wet her feet in puddles.
It's raining
And there is no light.
Lost somewhere summer.

Autumn is coming
Autumn wanders.
Wind with maple leaves
Reset.

New carpet underfoot
Yellow-pink -
Maple.

***
A. Pleshcheev

Boring picture!
Clouds without end
The rain is pouring down
Puddles on the porch

stunted rowan
Wet under the window;
Looks village
Gray spot.

What are you visiting early
Autumn has come to us?
Still asks the heart
Light and warmth!

***
A.S. Pushkin

Sad time! Oh charm!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the magnificent nature of wilting,
Forests clad in crimson and gold,
In their vestibule the wind noise and fresh breath,
And the heavens are covered with mist,
And a rare ray of sun, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.

***
A.N. Pleshcheev

Autumn has come
dried flowers,
And look sad
Bare bushes.
Wither and turn yellow
Grass in the meadows.
Only turns green
Winter in the fields.

A cloud covers the sky
The sun doesn't shine.
The wind howls in the field
The rain is drizzling.
The waters rustled
Fast stream.
The birds have flown away
To warm climes.

Autumn
A.N. Maikov

Covers a golden leaf
Wet ground in the forest...
I boldly trample with my foot
Spring forest beauty.

Cheeks are burning from the cold:
I like to run in the forest,
Hear the branches crack
Rake the leaves with your feet!

I have no former pleasures here!
The forest has shrugged off a secret:
The last nut is plucked
The last flower is plucked;

Moss is not raised, not blown up
A pile of curly mushrooms;
Doesn't hang around the stump
Purple lingonberry brushes;

Long lies on the leaves
The nights are frosty, and through the forest
Looks cold somehow
Clear skies...

Autumn
K. Balmont

Cowberry ripens
The days got colder
And from the bird's cry
The heart is only sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away
Away, beyond the blue sea,
All the trees are shining
In multi-colored attire.

The sun laughs less.
There is no incense in flowers.
Autumn will wake up soon
And cry awake.

Bunny
A. Blok

little bunny
On a damp valley
Before the eyes were amused
White flowers...

burst into tears in autumn
thin blades,
Paws are advancing
On yellow leaves.

Gloomy, rainy
Autumn has come,
Removed all the cabbage
Nothing to steal.

The poor bunny is jumping
Near the wet pines
Scary in the paws of the wolf
Gray to get ...

Thinking about summer
presses his ears,
Squinting at the sky -
Can't see the sky...

Just to be warmer
Just to dry...
Very unpleasant
Walk on water!

"Autumn"
Y. Kapustina

In a golden carriage
What about the playful horse
Autumn galloped
Through forests and fields.
good sorceress
Changed everything
bright yellow color
Decorated the earth.
Sleepy month from the sky
Surprised by a miracle
Everything around sparkles
Everything spills over.

"Golden Rain"
M. Lesovaya

The leaves were flooded with sunshine.
The leaves are soaked in the sun.
Poured, weighed down,
Run and fly
Rustled through the bushes
They jumped over the branches.
The wind turns gold
Sounds like golden rain!

"Autumn"
A. Pleshcheeva

Autumn has come.
dried flowers,
And look sad
Bare bushes.
Wither and turn yellow
Grass in the meadows
Only turns green
Winter in the fields.
A cloud covers the sky
The sun does not shine;
The wind howls in the field;
The rain is drizzling.
The waters rustled
fast stream
The birds have flown away
To warm climes.

Aspen chills,
Shaking in the wind...
Give Aspen
Coat and boots.
Gotta get warm
Poor donkey.

"Autumn"
E. Intulov

Crow screams in the sky: -Kar-r!
There's a fire in the forest, there's a fire in the forest!
And it was just very:
Autumn settled in it.

Autumn in the park

Autumn is walking in our park,
Autumn gives gifts to everyone:
Pink apron - aspen,
Red beads - rowanberry,
Umbrella yellow - poplars,
Autumn gives us fruits.

September first

A huge bouquet is walking along the road.
In shoes - legs,
Above - takes.
Walking to school
Bouquets of flowers -
Every
By the academic year
Ready.

Autumn,
autumn…
Sun
Damp in the clouds -
Shines even at noon
Dull and timid.
From the cold grove
In field,
on the path
The hare blew -
the first
Snowflake.

In the autumn garden
By the path
Aspen slams
In the palms
That's why
That week
her palms
Blushed.

September

In september, in september
Silver herbs in the morning
Like silver saucers
Puddles sparkle at dawn.

The garden, like an empty house, is open.
The air smells like apples.

Into silence
woven
Gossamer gray hair.

I walk, I'm sad alone:
Autumn is around.
Yellow leaf in the river
Summer is gone.

I throw him a circle -
Your last wreath.
Only summer can not be saved
If the day is autumn.

The sky was cloudy in the morning

The sky was cloudy in the morning
And everything seemed dull.
Autumn loves to cry
Rain on the ground.
Likes to rustle leaves
And pluck them from the trees.

Rain, rain, drip, drip!

Rain, rain, drip, drip!
You wouldn't drip on dads
You would not drip on moms -
It would be better to come to us:
Dads - damp, moms - dirty,
You and I are great!

Autumn on the fox

See all: in all its glory
Autumn rushes on the fox.
And where the fox will wag its tail,
Everything turns red in place:
Paint with a red brush
She is grass and leaves.
And the bushes will turn red
Paths, streets, bridges,
Houses and late flowers...
Look: you are not red-haired either!

A hedgehog curled up under a bush
Wet and prickly.
And the rain falls over the forest,
Dispersing clouds.
Dressed in red leaves
Smiling stump.
Stayed dry all summer
And now it's soaking wet.

Falling, falling leaves.
Leaf fall in our garden...
yellow, red leaves
They curl in the wind, they fly.

Birds fly south
Geese, rooks, cranes.
Here is the last flock
Wings flapping in the distance.

Let's take a basket in our hands,
Let's go to the forest for mushrooms
Stumps and paths smell
Delicious autumn mushroom.

I decided to say goodbye to the summer

I decided to say goodbye to the summer,
Suddenly the river became cloudy
Birds became a friendly flock
Go on vacation.
And so that everything becomes like in a fairy tale,
Giving beauty to the earth
Year spilled colors for autumn
From the boxes of September!

Autumn has come

Autumn has come,
Our garden turned yellow.
Leaves on a birch
They burn with gold.
Don't hear merry
Nightingale song.
The birds have flown away
To distant lands.

Summer has passed

Summer, giving away warmth,
Bored and gone.
The wind tore the leaves
And scattered under my feet.
The sun hid behind the clouds
Gray day bored with rain.
And for some reason crying, crying -
Here's the problem.
Let's ask him.
The rain will answer: - Just autumn ...

Summer flies away

It suddenly became twice as bright,
Yard as in the sun.
This dress is golden
At the birch on the shoulders ...
In the morning we go to the yard -
Leaves fall like rain
Rustle underfoot
And fly, fly, fly...
Gossamer webs fly
With spiders in the middle.
And high from the ground
The cranes flew by.
Everyone is flying! It must be
Our summer is flying by.

leaf fall

fallen leaves
The conversation is barely audible.
- We are from maples ...
- We are from apple trees ...
- We are with cherries ...
- From the aspen ...
- From bird cherry ...
- From oak ...
- From a birch ...
Falling leaves everywhere
On the threshold of frost!

Here comes autumn

Here is autumn before us:
The field is compressed, the meadow is mowed.
And over the forest shoals
The geese are heading south.
Behind the barn a stack of straw
And rowan in the yard
From the window of my home
It can be seen by rural children.
Frequent rain in the window ringing.
Wind roaming everywhere
Golden leaves drives
By silver water.

Autumn looked into the garden -
The birds have flown away.
Outside the window rustling in the morning
Yellow blizzards.
Under the feet of the first ice
Crumbles, breaks.
The sparrow in the garden will sigh
And sing -
He is shy.

Trees in autumn

Birch braids unraveled,
The maples clapped their hands,
The cold winds have come
And the poplars flooded.
Willows drooped by the pond,
Aspens trembled
Oaks, always huge,
It's like they've gotten smaller.
Everything calmed down, cringed,
It drooped, turned yellow.
Only the Christmas tree is pretty
She got better for the winter.

Autumn at the edge of the paint bred,
On the foliage quietly brushed:
The hazel turned yellow and the maples blushed,
In autumn purple, only green oak.
Autumn comforts:
— Do not regret the summer!
Look - the grove is dressed in gold!

Golden autumn

Early autumn - beautiful time. The heat subsides, and the scorching sun no longer heats the air so much. The day is still long. A light warm breeze is blowing. Silk butterflies fly above the ground, rejoicing at the flowers that have not yet withered. Poems about autumn describe how the leaves slowly begin to turn yellow, redden and dry. Some are still green. Falling from the trees, they are freely carried by the breath of the wind and cover the ground with a lush multi-colored carpet. Autumn forest turns into extraordinary fairy tale. Rows immerse children in colorful paintings beautiful golden autumn. Such a time brings joy and happiness to little lovers of long walks. Collecting beautiful bouquets from yellow carved leaves of maple, oak, aspen, kids bring them home as nice gifts to mothers and grandmothers. Unusual fun - going out into the garden, bathe in the rustle of leaves blown into large yellow heaps. The rains in the poems plentifully water the earth, preparing it for the cold and washing away the usual summer landscapes.

Autumn melancholy

Comes late period autumn. The summer heat is gone. The days are getting shorter. Flocks of migratory birds fly to the southern regions. Winter is coming. In quatrains, sadness about the impending cold and farewell to the cheerful sunny months is comparable to an irresistible longing that torments the soul. Like saying goodbye to the old good friend or the remembrance of the departed beautiful moments, the rhyme in some verses conveys gray sad pictures to the reader. Once green, now withered leaves, dark gray clouds, endlessly covering vault of heaven. Only occasionally a dim autumn sun shines through in a muddy circle. Already nothing warms, the cold wind slowly, as if taking everything out from the inside, penetrates the air. This is how sad poems about autumn describe the impressions of nature. The reader will be able to completely merge with calm melancholy, as if with a tired heaviness that plunges nature into a long winter dream. Often in such quatrains the poet expresses the excitement and uncertainty that characterize his homeland. She seems to fall asleep too, the former beauty disappears, giving way to gray everyday life, and only doom and uncertainty lie ahead. Lines like these call for reflection on civic importance. moral values, love and simple human faith.

Autumn is the most beautiful time of the year described by poets. It gives them a storm of emotions that give rise to true inspiration. The lines are shuffled real love, long waits and losses. The sincerity that is invested in the works is transmitted to the reading children. They carry through themselves the whole stream of feelings, which instills in them a special spiritual harmony and wealth. inner peace. Poems about autumn allow kids to imagine the inconstancy of the world around them, the changes of which must be accepted and readily adapted to them.

In Moscow, autumn never ends, so talking about "autumn" texts with kids is quite relevant.

What they did is quite concise.

Before the holidays, they read Koval about autumn - " Last page There were two tasks for the holidays. One - "What will the room smell like when you open your vacation jug?" Here is "Boratyn neighing and beating" and "what a charm". I don’t even quote, because you will get your portion of pleasure if you ask, for example, about the winter holidays.

Tiny story:

Pitcher with leaf

Wet earth, honey agarics, smoke from potato fields smells of leaf stubble. On a river cliff, where the wind is especially strong, I put a red earthenware jug under its stream, collected more leaf stalks and corked the jug with a wooden cork, filled it with wax. Winter evening friends will gather in Serebryanichesky Lane. I'll get cabbage, sauerkraut with viburnum, Chistodor mushrooms. Then I'll bring a jug, pull out the cork. Friends will look at the jug, slap its resonant sides and wonder why it is empty. And the room will smell of damp earth, sweet mushrooms and smoke from potato fields.

The second task is a question about "The Last Leaf" - "Why did the artist not succeed in drawing?"

Basically, it's a trivial task. But. What opportunities does it give? Talk about color and shades. Today one boy Andryusha listed us great amount shades of red. Everyone, of course, says that it is impossible to adequately et cetera. And this is good.

And my favorite non-format Sasha gave out, and I fell out, that the artist abandons attempts to finish the drawing after he saw the jay: "Rrrzhzhzhe-oh! Rrrzhzhzhe-oh! T-r-r ..." autumn forest Looked right and got really upset. He slammed the paint box, picked it up from the ground Maple Leaf and rashly stuck it on the drawing. "That is, the child told me, the artist perceived the living forest with all his senses, and this wealth did not fit into the colors alone. (I think Golyavkin backfired - and cheers!)

Another - a wonderful poem for kids by Sergei Kozlov - "Autumn". it is long, we took a part - ended with a mole. But it's all wonderful. They thought about how many and what kind of pictures they could draw, and they proved it with text. Images are wonderfully drawn - a locomotive house, cornflowers with sheep, viburnum ...

Sergey Kozlov

Autumn

This autumn
most often
house with a porch frozen into the ground
And smokes
Like real
Wooden locomotive.
On the road will meet
The window lights are on.
Buzzing with his pipe
Scares us with you.

dry and light
this fall
Cornflowers.
Sleeping in a haystack
in your house
won't open to anyone.
only a lamb
on a winter evening
walk out of the house

this fall
Fox is not happy
this fall
leaf fall
Red, fiery tail
Sweeps the fox house.

and the leaves are spinning, the leaves,
as if
foxes,
foxes,
foxes.
Even the old fox
was amazed:
"miracles!
where is the fox?
where is the leaf?
Ears, tails, eyes!"

this fall
viburnum bush
Fired up and burning
Fired up and on fire
Does not say anything.
Saying nothing
Will burn until January.
Blaze fire redder -
The berries will taste better!

This autumn
At dawn
The mole digs holes in grief.
At dawn the whole mountain
In piles of gold and silver.
In white frost
Mountain.
In white frost
Nora.
At dawn
Mole in the hole
Drowning in silver.

And the frog does not sing
Heats up the stove
The guest is waiting
And frogs don't sing
If autumn comes.
This autumn at the green
No gramophone needle
Here she sits alone
The silence is distressed.

Neither in the folds nor in the patties
And yes, it's a scam.
If they say:
"Over the swamp
In the morning
Costs
Fog!"-
It's the frogs that are heating the stove,
Guests are expected from distant countries.
And what-
I'm peeping
And I'll tell you in the spring.

And bumblebees, bumblebees, bumblebees
They bloomed this fall.
Oh, bumblebee, your flower
Wet to the leaf!
Oh, bumblebee, your flower
Became gray-haired from frost.
Well, and you yourself, dear bumblebee,
Flew into what crack,
Where do you sit
Where do you buzz
Are you moving your paw sadly?

A hare this autumn
Left mom and dad
Dropped grandma
Grandpa abandoned
Ate four trees.
And the rumor spread around
What will eat four more.

This autumn, St. John's wort,
We say goodbye to you.
Though small and clumsy,
I loved your bitter leaf.

Though bitter, low,
I loved you flower.
Is the sky blue,
Is the smoke white above the chimney
Like a leaf before grass
I'm standing in front of you
Goodbye!
Goodbye!
Animal, grass, St. John's wort!

Cranes this autumn
Waved from afar
Passed through the sky like a wedge
Cranes this autumn.
With this crane wedge,
With this click
Long, long
Having fired up the furnace,
We will enter our native language.

And wonderful Zabolotsky - "September"

The rain pours big peas,

The wind is breaking, and the distance is unclean.

Ruffled poplar close up

Silvery underside of the sheet.

But look: through the opening of the cloud,

As through an arch of stone slabs,

In this realm of fog and darkness

The first beam, breaking through, flies.

So the distance is not forever curtained

Clouds, and, therefore, not in vain,

Like a girl, flaring up, hazel

Came out at the end of September.

Now, painter, snatch

Brush after brush, and on the canvas

Golden like fire and garnet

Draw this girl for me.

Draw, like a tree, unsteady

A young princess in a crown

With a restless smile

On a tearful young face.

You can talk about the last stanza for a long, long time: about why exactly such details of the description-personification are used. Something like this. Here.