The Image of a Mother in Russian Poetry of the 20th Century: A. Blok, A. Akhmatova, A. Twardowski. Recommended list of literature on the topic "The image of the mother in fiction

I .Introduction……………………………………………………...…... page 2

II. Main part:

II .1 My guiding star………………………………............p. 3

II .2Women's images in literature………………………............p. four

II .3 Immortality in time………………………………….....p. 5-7

II .4 Holy pages of poetry………………….…………....…p. 8-10

II .5 Literature that said so much about the mother…………..p. 11-12

II .6 The arts are different, but the theme is the same…………………... p. 13-14

III. Microstudy #1……………………………..…..… page 15

IV. Conclusion……………………………………………………p. 16

V. Bibliographic list……………………………….…p. 17

VI. Applications

I. Introduction.

The topic of my research work is "The Image of Mother in Fiction". I decided to write this work because I was interested to understand why writers, poets, as well as artists and musicians often dedicate their works to mothers and make them heroines of stories, short stories, poems, pictures...

Mom ... This is the most beautiful word that a child utters, and the mother's heart stops. "Mom, mommy," he repeats, and the woman is ready to fly, break out of her body, ready to scream to the whole world that the little man to whom she gave life, said her name. And this word sounds in all languages ​​of the world equally gentle: in Russian “mama”, Ukrainian “nenko”, in English “mother”, Uzbek “aba” ... Yes, now for many years the word “mother” in its various interpretations will become the name of a young woman.

The word "mom" is a special word. It is born, as it were, with us, accompanies us in our mature years, we leave life with it. Mom is the dearest, closest, dearest person. When Valentina Tereshkova returned from space flight, she was asked a somewhat unexpected question: “Who is your most favorite person?” Valentina answered with one short, precise, beautiful word: "Mom." *

I think that this topic relevant, since our time has added certain difficulties to the already difficult relationship of "fathers and children." I know not only loving sons and daughters, but indifferent and cruel, who often take offense at their mothers, push them away with their love. But it is the love given to us by mothers that makes us more sensitive, receptive. This love is pure and innocent, like a drop of dew in the morning, and it cannot be compared with any other feeling on Earth. It is in motherly love that lies life-giving force capable of performing miracles. Isn't that her strength?

Work tasks:

To reveal a personal relationship with the mother.

Describe the role of women in fiction.

To determine what contribution writers and poets made by saying so many good words to our mothers, and what influence did the image of the mother have on artists and musicians?

Show the immortality of the image of the Mother in time.

Conduct a micro-study on the relationship of my peers with my mother.

1* Digest "Mommy, beloved, dear" p. 25.

1. My guiding star.

Mom is the dearest, closest, dearest person, this is the most sacred thing in my life both now and when I become an adult. I grow, being next to her, and this growth is not only physical, but also spiritual. Together, hand in hand, we are climbing the steps of perfection. Mom looks at the world from the position of a mature, more experienced person, and I grab onto everything that I see interesting in the world. I think that in our conversations some truth is born for both of us. And as soon as we learn something new, we share our knowledge with each other. My mother is constantly striving to learn something new, unusual, to discover the life processes that take place on Earth and in the Universe. And I walk along the path of life next to her, gaining the knowledge I aspire to. We learn together to experience life in all its manifestations.

We are part of something big and bright. We are one. It so happened that we were even mistaken for sisters, girlfriends, this unity makes us so happy. And I can firmly, proudly and confidently say that my Mom is not only my Teacher, but also a close Friend who will never let me down, who will always help and support. Thanks to her, I know that there is a way out of any situation, that you can look at everything from the other side and understand that minor human troubles are not worth spiritual energy. And I know that when I go out on the “high road” of life, I will not give up at the first failure, but I will remember the love and kindness that my mother gave me, and the most beautiful of flowers will bloom in my soul - gratitude.

There are wonderful lines of a poem by L. Konstantinova about my mother, which I often recall:

In the pink kingdom of distant childhood

I remember your mother's heart

Big heart - so reliable

It would be impossible to live without you!

I got older and you got closer

The beautiful image is full of love.

I am bound by this love to you,

I owe you every eyelash.

For such love - it is impossible for me

Do not pay, do not pay more dearly,

This love is maternal.

I know my debt will never be paid.

You taught me a lot in life

A good example, care raised!

Your path, like a feat, shines with courage,

How I want to meet you in eternity,

How I don't want to lose you

On the day when we meet the Lord,

But as long as my heart can beat

I will be stronger for you, I pray! *

2 * The air of childhood and the father's home ...: poems by Russian poets - M .: MOL. Guard p.337.

2. Women's images in literature.

What could be more sacred in the world than the name of the mother! ..

A person who has not yet taken a step on the ground and is just starting to babble, uncertainly and diligently adds up the syllables “ma-ma” and, feeling his luck, laughs, happy ...

Blackened from sleepless work, the grain grower presses to his dry lips a handful of the same dark earth, which has given birth to rye and wheat, and says gratefully: "Thank you, nurse - mother ...".

The soldier, who stumbled upon an oncoming fragment and fell to the ground, sends the last bullet to the enemy with a weakening hand: "For the Motherland!"

All the most precious shrines are named and illuminated by the name of the mother, because the very concept of life is connected with this name.

Happy is he who from childhood has known maternal affection and has grown up under the caring warmth and light of maternal gaze; and to death suffers and is tormented by the one who has lost the most precious creature in the world - his mother, and even ending his seemingly not in vain and usefully lived age, he cannot remember this unhealed pain without tears and bitterness, this terrible damage that burdened him merciless fate. It is no coincidence that we wholeheartedly respond to the final lines of Vasily Kazin's poem "On the Mother's Grave":

Oppresses and grief, and bewilderment,

My being is stuck with a nail,

I stand - your living continuation,

The beginning has lost its own.*

With what respect and gratitude we look at a man who reverently pronounces the name of his mother to gray hair and respectfully protects her old age. And with contempt we execute the one who forgot about the woman who gave birth and raised him, and in her bitter old age turned away from her, refused a good memory, a piece or shelter.

But in the relation of a person to his mother, the people measure their attitude towards a person ....

It is impossible not to notice that with all the understanding and frequent sympathy for childless women, folk literature, although without malice, does not miss the opportunity to make fun of such people. And often lonely old women, unfamiliar with maternal feelings, are portrayed as grumpy, suspicious, stingy, and callous. Probably, the poet S. Ostrovoy was right when he said: “The most beautiful woman in the world is a woman with a child in her arms.”*

Women's images in literature is a special topic. They play different roles in the works: sometimes they are direct participants in the events, often the plot without them would not have such an emotional mood, colorfulness. But of all female images, the most beloved by us is the image of the mother.

3* Hour of Courage p. 137.

4* Encyclopedia of thought p. 195.

3 . Immortality in time.

The people have always honored the Mother! In oral poetry since ancient times, her appearance has been endowed with the brightest features: she is the guardian of the family hearth, the protector of her own children, the guardian of all the destitute and offended.

It is no coincidence that the people also live a lot of good, affectionate words about the mother. We do not know by whom they were first said, but they are very often repeated in life and pass from generation to generation: “There is no sweeter friend than a dear mother”, “It is light in the sun, it is warm in mother”, “The bird is happy with spring, and mother’s baby”, “Whoever has a uterus, his head is smooth”, “Dear mother is an inextinguishable candle”, etc. *

How many things have been invented and written about the mother, how many poems, songs, thoughts! Is it possible to say something new?!

There are many examples when the heroism of a woman-mother saved her children, her relatives.

One such example is Avdotya Ryazanochka from a folk tale about the courage of a simple woman - a mother. This epic is remarkable in that it was not a man - a warrior, but a woman - a mother "won the battle with the horde." She stood up for her relatives, and thanks to her courage and intelligence, "Ryazan went to hell."

Here it is - the immortality of true poetry, here it is - the enviable length of its existence in time!

But in printed literature, which, for obvious reasons, was at first reserved for members of the upper classes, the image of the mother remained in the shadows for a long time. Perhaps he was not considered worthy of a high style, or perhaps the reason for this phenomenon is more simple and natural: after all, then noble children, as a rule, were taken to educate not only tutors, but also nurses, and children of the nobility, in contrast to the children of peasants. , were artificially separated from their mother and fed on the milk of other women. Therefore, there was, albeit not quite conscious, a dulling of filial feelings, which, in the final analysis, could not but affect the work of future poets and prose writers.

It is no coincidence that Pushkin did not write a single poem about his parent and so many lovely poetic dedications to his nanny Arina Rodionovna, whom, by the way, the poet often called tenderly and carefully - "mother". The most famous of the dedications to the nanny is called “Nanny”:

Friend of my harsh days,

My decrepit dove!

Alone in the wilderness of pine forests

For a long, long time you've been waiting for me.

You are under the window of your room

Grieving like clockwork

And the spokes are slowing down every minute

In your wrinkled hands.

Looking through the forgotten gates

On a black distant path;

Longing, forebodings, worries

They squeeze your chest all the time ...

5* Digest "Mommy, beloved, dear" p. 25.

6* A. S. Pushkin. Favorites. Poem "Nanny" - p. 28.

The theme of the mother sounded truly deep and strong only in democratic poetry. And here it is necessary, first of all, to name the name of the great Russian poet Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov, who created an amazingly integral and capacious type of peasant woman - mother. It is unlikely that anyone else sang a woman, mother and wife as reverently and reverently as Nekrasov. Suffice it to recall the titles of his works: “There are women in Russian villages”, “Rural suffering is in full swing”, “Orina, a soldier’s mother”, “Knight for an hour”, “Listening to the horrors of war”, the chapter “Demushka” from the poem “To whom Russ live well”, which alone constitute a kind of anthology…

His poems, addressed to an early dead mother ("Knight for an hour") *, perhaps the most penetrating in all world poetry:

See me, dear!

Appear as a light shadow for a moment!

You lived your whole life unloved,

You spent your whole life for others...

I sing you a song of repentance

So that your meek eyes

Washed away with a hot tear of suffering

All shameful spots are mine! …

I'm not afraid of regret friends

No offense to the enemies of the triumph,

Speak only the word of forgiveness

You, the purest love deity! …*

It is impossible without inner trepidation and deep complicity to read the lines filled with high meaning *:

Listening to the horrors of war

With each new victim of the battle

I feel sorry for not a friend, not a wife,

I feel sorry for not the hero himself ...

Alas! wife will be comforted

And the best friend will forget a friend.

But somewhere there is one soul -

She will remember to the grave!

Among our hypocritical deeds

And all the vulgarity and prose

Alone I spied in the world

Holy, sincere tears

Those are the tears of poor mothers!

They can't forget their children

Those who died in the bloody field,

How not to raise a weeping willow

Of their drooping branches...*

7* Nekrasov N.A. Complete works in 15 volumes. T.2-L. "Science", 1981 - p.258.

8* Nekrasov N.A. Complete works in 15 volumes. Vol. 2- L. "Science", 1981 p. 26

The image of the mother in the works of Russian literature.

Malkova Zumara Sagitovna.

MBOU "Bolshetarkhanskaya secondary school" of the Tetyushsky municipal district of the Republic of Tatarstan.

Lesson Objectives:

• trace how in Russian literature, true to its humanistic traditions, the image of a woman-mother is depicted
• develop the spiritual and moral world of students, their national identity
• instill in students a respectful attitude towards a woman-mother
• to educate a patriot and a citizen aimed at improving the society in which he lives

During the classes:

I. opening speech teachers

PRESENTATION "PARABLE ABOUT MOTHER"

Russian literature is great and diverse. Its civic and social sound and significance is indisputable. From this great sea you can draw incessantly - and it will never become shallow. It is no coincidence that we publish books about comradeship and friendship, love and nature, soldier's courage and the Motherland... And any of these topics has received its full and worthy embodiment in deep and original works of domestic masters.

But there is another holy page in our literature, dear and close to any unhardened heart - these are the works about mother.

With respect and gratitude, we look at a person who reverently pronounces the name of his mother to gray hair and respectfully protects her old age; and with contempt we will execute the one who, in her bitter senile time, turned away from her, refused a good memory, a piece or shelter.

By the attitude of a person to his mother, the people measure their attitude towards a person.

II. Determination of the purpose of the lesson.

SLIDE #4 To trace how in Russian literature, true to its humanistic traditions, the image of a woman - a mother is depicted.

III. The image of the mother in oral folk art

Teacher's word. The image of the mother already in oral folk art acquired the captivating features of the keeper of the hearth, hardworking and faithful wife, defender of her own children and constant guardian for all the disadvantaged, offended and offended. These defining qualities of the mother's soul are reflected and sung in Russian folk tales and folk songs.

BULANOVA'S SONG "MAMA"

IV. The image of the mother in printed literature

teacher's word . In printed literature, which for obvious reasons was at first reserved for the upper classes, the image of the mother remained in the shadows for a long time. Perhaps the named subject was not considered worthy of a high style, or perhaps the reason for this phenomenon is more simple and natural: after all, then noble children, as a rule, were taken to educate not only tutors, but also nurses, and children of the nobility, in contrast to peasant children were artificially separated from their mother and fed on the milk of other women; therefore, there was a - albeit not quite conscious - dulling of filial feelings, which ultimately could not but affect the work of future poets and prose writers.

It is no coincidence that Pushkin did not write a single poem about his mother and so many lovely poetic dedications to his nanny Arina Rodionovna, whom, by the way, the poet often called tenderly and carefully - "mother".

Mother in the work of the great Russian poet N.A. Nekrasov

Mother ... The dearest and closest person. She gave us life, gave us a happy childhood. The mother's heart, like the sun, shines always and everywhere, warming us with its warmth. She is our best friend, a wise adviser. Mother is our guardian angel.

That is why the image of the mother becomes one of the main ones in Russian literature already in the 19th century.

Truly, deeply, the theme of the mother sounded in the poetry of Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov. Closed and reserved by nature, Nekrasov literally did not find enough bright words and strong language to appreciate the mother's role in her life. Both the young man and the old man, Nekrasov always spoke of his mother with love and admiration. Such an attitude towards her, in addition to the usual sons of affection, undoubtedly followed from the consciousness of what he owed her:

And if I shake it off easily over the years
From the soul of my pernicious traces
Correcting everything reasonable with your feet,
Proud of the ignorance of the environment,
And if I filled my life with struggle
For the ideal of goodness and beauty,
And wears the song composed by me,
Living love deep features -
Oh, my mother, I am inspired by you!
You saved a living soul in me!
(From the poem "Mother")

Question to the class:

How did his mother "saved the soul" of the poet?

Student performances (reading and analysis of works).

Pupil 1 - First of all, being a highly educated woman, she introduced her children to intellectual, in particular literary, interests. In the poem "Mother" Nekrasov recalls that as a child, thanks to his mother, he became acquainted with the images of Dante and Shakespeare. She also taught him love and compassion for those “whose ideal is reduced grief,” that is, for serfs.

Pupil 2 - The image of a woman - a mother is vividly represented by Nekrasov in many of his works "In full swing, the village suffering"

Village suffering is in full swing...

Share you! - Russian female share!

Hardly harder to find.

No wonder you wither before the time

All-enduring Russian tribe

Long-suffering mother!

The heat is unbearable: the plain is treeless,

Fields, mowing and expanse of heaven -

The sun is beating down mercilessly.

The poor woman is exhausted,

A column of insects sways above her,

Stings, tickles, buzzes!

Lifting a heavy roe deer,

Baba cut her naked leg -

Once to calm the blood!

A cry is heard from the neighboring lane,

Baba there - kerchiefs were disheveled, -

Gotta rock the baby!

Why did you stand over him in a daze?

Sing him a song of eternal patience,

Sing, patient mother!

Are there tears, is she sweating over her eyelashes,

Right, it's wise to say.

In this jug, stuffed with a dirty rag,

They sink - anyway!

Here she is with her singed lips

Eagerly brings to the edges ...

Are the tears salty, my dear?

With sour kvass in half? ..

(Beginning 1863)

Nekrasov's poem “In full swing the village suffering ...” tells about the difficult lot of a Russian woman, mother, peasant woman. This theme is generally characteristic of Nekrasov's work, its occurrence is explained biographically. The poet grew up in a family where his father was a "domestic tyrant" who tormented his mother. From childhood, Nekrasov saw the suffering of his beloved women, mother and sister, whose marriage, by the way, also did not bring her happiness. The poet was very upset by the death of his mother and blamed his father for it, and a year later his sister died ...

"Orina, mother of a soldier"

Pupil 3 - Poem "Listening to the horrors of war"

The poem “Listening to the horrors of war ...”, dedicated to Crimean War 1853-1856, sounds amazingly modern.. The work is amazingly timely, it reminds the living of the enduring value of life, it seems that only mothers who give life understand its sacred purpose. And the madmen who draw new generations into wars do not want to understand anything. They don't hear the voice of reason. How many Russian mothers are close and understand this poem:
A small, only 17 lines, poem strikes with the depth of humanism contained in it. The poet's language is concise and simple, there are no detailed and complex metaphors, only accurate epithets emphasizing the artist's intention: deeds are “hypocritical”, since they do not lead to an end to wars, only tears are “sincere”, and sincerely they are “alone”, everything else is a lie . The poet's conclusion is terrible that both the friend and the wife will forget - he also ranks them among the "hypocritical" world.
The poem ends with a comparison in the folklore style of mothers with a drooping weeping willow. The use of a folklore image gives the work a generalizing meaning: it is not about one Crimean war - about all, after which mothers and nature itself sob:

Teacher's word. "Who will protect you?" - the poet addresses in one of his poems.

He understands that, besides him, there is no one else to say a word about the sufferer of the Russian land, whose feat is irreplaceable, but great!

Nekrasov traditions in the image of the bright image of the mother - a peasant woman in the lyrics of S.A. Yesenin

(During the teacher's lecture, Yesenin's poems about the mother are performed by students (by heart))

Nekrasov's traditions are reflected in the poetry of the great Russian poet S. A. Yesenin, who created surprisingly sincere poems about his mother, a peasant woman.

A bright image of the poet's mother passes through Yesenin's work. Endowed with individual traits, it grows into a generalized image of a Russian woman, appears even in the youthful poems of the poet, as a fabulous image of the one who not only gave the whole world, but also made happy with the gift of song. This image also takes on the specific earthly appearance of a peasant woman, busy with everyday affairs: “Mother can’t cope with grips, bends low ...”

PRESENTATION "A LETTER TO A MOTHER" Yesenin(read by M. Troshin)

Fidelity, constancy of feelings, cordial devotion, inexhaustible patience are generalized and poeticized by Yesenin in the image of a mother. "Oh, my patient mother!" - this exclamation escaped from him not by chance: the son brings a lot of unrest, but the mother's heart forgives everything. So there is a frequent motive for Yesenin's son's guilt. On his trips, he constantly recalls his native village: it is dear to the memory of youth, but most of all, the mother yearning for her son attracts her there.

"Sweet, kind, old, tender" mother is seen by the poet "at the parental dinner." The mother is worried - the son has not been at home for a long time. How is he in the distance? The son tries to reassure her in letters: “There will be time, dear, dear!” In the meantime, "evening unspeakable light" is streaming over the mother's hut. The son, "still as gentle", "dreams only of how soon from the rebellious longing to return to our low house." In the "Letter to the Mother" filial feelings are expressed with piercing artistic power: "You are my only help and joy, you are my only inexpressible light."

Yesenin was 19 years old when, with amazing penetration, he sang in the poem "Rus" the sadness of maternal expectation - "waiting for gray-haired mothers."

The sons became soldiers, the royal service took them to the bloody fields of the world war. Rarely-rarely come from them "doodles, deduced with such difficulty," but they are all waiting for their "frail huts", warmed by a mother's heart. Yesenin can be placed next to Nekrasov, who sang "the tears of poor mothers."

They can't forget their children
Those who died in the bloody field,
How not to raise a weeping willow
Of their drooping branches.

Poem "Requiem" by A.A. Akhmatova.

These lines from the distant 19th century remind us of the mother's bitter cry, which we hear in Anna Andreevna Akhmatova's poem "Requiem". Here it is, the immortality of true poetry, here it is, the enviable length of its existence in time!

The poem has a real basis: Akhmatova spent 17 months (1938-1939) in prison queues in connection with the arrest of her son, Lev Gumilyov: he was arrested three times: in 1935, 1938 and 1949.

The poem "Requiem" is a tribute to the memory of those terrible years and to all those who have passed this difficult path with her, to all those who were noticed, to all the relatives of the condemned. The poem reflects not only the personal tragic circumstances of the author's life, but also the grief of all Russian women, those wives, mothers, sisters who stood with her for 17 terrible months in prison lines in Leningrad.

(Excerpts from the poem are performed by the masters of the artistic word. Phonochrestomathy. Grade 11)

But this is not only the fate of one mother. And the fate of many mothers in Russia, day after day standing idle in front of prisons in numerous queues with packages for children arrested by the bearers of the regime, the Stalinist regime, the regime of cruel repressions.

Mountains bend before this grief,
The great river does not flow
But the prison gates are strong,
And behind them "convict holes"
And deadly sadness.

Mother goes through the circles of hell.

The theme of intercession for millions of mothers sounded from the lips of Akhmatova. The author's personal experience is drowning in the nation's suffering:

Audio recording, read by Akhmatova:

No, it's not me, it's someone else suffering.

I couldn't do that, but what happened

Let the black cloth cover

And let them carry the lanterns ...

The fate of mother and son passes through the whole poem, the images of which are correlated with gospel symbols. Here before us is a simple Russian woman, in whose memory the crying of children will forever remain, the candle swollen by the goddess, the sweat of death on the forehead of a loved one who is taken away at dawn. And she will also cry for him, as the archery "wives" once cried under the walls of the Kremlin. Then, in the image of the lyrical heroine, the features of Akhmatova herself appear, who does not believe that everything is happening to her - the “mockery”, “the favorite of all friends”, “the Tsarskoye Selo sinner”. Poet Akhmatova fulfilled her duty with honor - she glorified and glorified the suffering of thousands of mothers who became victims of bloody arbitrariness.

"Requiem" is a universal verdict on an inhuman system that dooms a mother to immeasurable and inconsolable suffering, and her only lover, her son, to non-existence.

The tragedy of the image of the mother in the works about the Great Patriotic War.

teacher's word

The image of the mother has always carried the features of drama. And he began to look even more tragic against the backdrop of the great and terrible in its bitterness of the past war. Who more than a mother endured suffering at this time? About this are the books of mothers E. Kosheva "The Tale of the Son", Kosmodemyanskaya "The Tale of Zoya and Shura" ...

Can you tell me about it -
What years did you live in!
What an immeasurable heaviness
On women's shoulders lay down!
(M, Isakovsky).

Our mothers not only lost their sons, survived the occupation, worked to the point of exhaustion, helping the front, but they themselves died in Nazi concentration camps, they were tortured, burned in the ovens of crematoria.

Question to the class

Why are the people to whom it was the woman-mother who gave life so cruel to her?

(Answers-speech, reflections of students)

Vasily Grossman's novel "Life and Fate"

In Vasily Grossman's novel Life and Fate, violence appears in different types, and the writercreates vivid, poignant pictures of the threat it poses to life.

A student reads a letter from Anna Semyonovna, the mother of the physicist Shtrum, written by her on the eve of the death of the inhabitants of the Jewish ghetto. READ MOTHER'S LETTER

"Vitya, I'm sure my letter will reach you, although I'm behind the front line and behind the barbed wire of the Jewish ghetto. I'll never get your answer, I won't be here. I want you to know about my last days, with this thought I easier to pass away.

Vitenka, I am finishing my letter and will take it to the ghetto fence and give it to my friend. This letter is not easy to cut off, it is my last conversation with you, and having forwarded the letter, I finally leave you, you will never know about my last hours. This is our very last parting. What will I say to you, saying goodbye, before eternal separation? These days, like all my life, you were my joy. At night I remembered you, your children's clothes, your first books, I remembered your first letter, the first school day, everything, everything, from the first days of your life to the last news from you, a telegram received on June 30th. I closed my eyes, and it seemed to me - you shielded me from the impending horror, my friend. And when I remembered what was happening around, I was glad that you were not near me - let the terrible fate blow you away.

Vitya, I have always been lonely. On sleepless nights, I cried from longing. After all, no one knew this. My consolation was the thought that I would tell you about my life. I’ll tell you why your dad and I broke up, why I lived alone for such many years. And I often thought how surprised Vitya would be when he learned that his mother made mistakes, went crazy, was jealous, that she was jealous, was like all young people. But my fate is to end my life alone without sharing with you. Sometimes it seemed to me that I should not live away from you, I loved you too much, I thought that love gives me the right to be with you in my old age. Sometimes it seemed to me that I should not live with you, I loved you too much.

Well, enfin... Be always happy with those you love, who surround you, who have become closer to your mother. I'm sorry.

From the street you can hear the crying of women, the cursing of the police, and I look at these pages, and it seems to me that I am protected from scary world full of misery.

How can I finish my letter? Where to get strength, son? Are there human words that can express my love for you? I kiss you, your eyes, your forehead, hair.

Remember that always in the days of happiness and in the day of grief, motherly love is with you, no one can kill her.

Vitenka... Here is the last line of my mother's last letter to you. Live, live, live forever... Mom."

Students' impressions of what they heard (sample answers)

Student 1 - It cannot be read without a shudder and tears. Horror, a feeling of fear seize me. How could people endure these inhuman trials that fell to their lot. And it is especially scary, it becomes uncomfortable when the mother, the most holy creature on earth, feels bad.

Disciple 3 - Mother is capable of any sacrifice for the sake of children! Great is the power of mother's love!

teacher's word

Vasily Grossman's mother died in 1942 at the hands of fascist executioners.

In 1961, 19 years after his mother's death, his son wrote her a letter. It was preserved in the archive of the writer's widow.

I READ THE LETTER OF THE SON

Dear mother, I learned of your death in the winter of 1944. I came to Berdichev, entered the house where you lived, and understood. That you are not alive. But as early as September 8, 1941, I felt in my heart that you were gone.

At night at the front, I had a dream - I entered the room, clearly knowing that this was your room, and saw an empty chair, clearly knowing that you slept in it: hanging from the chair was a handkerchief with which you covered your legs. I looked at this empty chair for a long time, and when I woke up, I knew that you were no longer on earth.

But I did not know what a terrible death you died. I found out about this by asking people who knew about the mass execution that took place on September 15, 1941. I tried dozens of times, maybe hundreds, to imagine how you died. As you went to your death, I tried to imagine the person who killed you. He was the last one to see you. I know you've been thinking about me a lot all this time.

Now for more than nine years I have not written letters to you, I do not tell you about my life and affairs. And during these nine years, so much has accumulated in my soul. That I decided to write to you, tell you and, of course, complain, since, in essence, no one cared about my sorrows, only you cared about them. I will be frank with you... First of all, I want to tell you that over these 9 years I was able to truly believe that I love you - since my feeling for you has not diminished one iota, I do not forget you, I do not calm down, I am not consoled, time does not heal me.

My dear, it's been 20 years since you died. I love you, I remember you every day of my life, and my grief has been relentless for all these 20 years. You are human to me. And your terrible fate is the fate of a man in an inhuman time. All my life I keep the faith that all my good, honest, kind - all this is from you. Today I re-read several of your letters to me. And today I cried again, reading your letters. I cry over the letters - because you are your kindness, purity, your bitter, bitter life, your justice, nobility, your love for me, your concern for people, your wonderful mind. I am not afraid of anything, because your love is with me, and because my love is always with me.

And that hot tear shed by the writer for his old mother and for the Jewish people burns our hearts and leaves a scar of memory on them.

V. Final word of the teacher. Summarizing.

Your Mom is always with you: she is in the whisper of the leaves when you walk down the street; she is the smell of your freshly laundered socks or bleached sheets; she is a cool hand on your forehead when you are not feeling well. Your Mom lives inside your laughter. And she is a crystal in every drop of your tears. She is where you arrive from Heaven - your first home; and she is the map you follow with every step you take.

She is your first love and your first grief, and nothing on earth can separate you. No time, no place...not even death!

Watching an excerpt from the movie "Moms", 2012.

VI. Homework (differentiated):

1. prepare an expressive reading (by heart) of a poem or prose about the mother
2. essay "I want to tell you about my mother ..."
3. composition - essay "Is it easy to be a mother?"
4. monologue "Mother"
5. Screenplay "The Ballad of a Mother"

Research work.

"The Image of the Mother in the Lyrics of Classical and Modern Poets"

primary school teacher MBOU

Lyceum №13 Rostov-on-Don

…Mom, I carry your name through life, like a shrine.

Years will go by. Apples will fall on the grass.

The sun will rise.

Rivers will rush into the desert.

Ships will sail into the whiteness of the Martian seas.

Life will rage.

Every atom. Each vein.

People! My brothers! Take care of your mothers!

A real mother is given to a person once!

Sergei Ostovoy.

Who teaches the child to take the first steps? Who sings the first lullaby in his life? Who is telling the story? Who teaches you to speak your native language? And what is the first word most often spoken by the child? Of course, MOM!

Yes, it is MOM that opens the door to the big world for the baby, she is relentlessly with him, the first to rise to his cry ... He hears the mother's affectionate words, feels her warmth, protection. How his little hands reach for MOM! And even when people become adults and break away from their home, their connection with their mother does not break. And in moments of trouble, danger, despair, we still call for help, first of all, MAMA ...

The modern world is cruel, power, money, patronage rule here. But what about the power of maternal love, all-consuming love, all-forgiving love? Perhaps, by turning to the beginning, to the source of life, society will be able to restore peace, tranquility, prosperity? With Mother's milk, each person absorbs the most precious, tender, sincere feelings. Why, over time, from such a baby, and then an adult, cruelty appears, the desire to humiliate, even destroy someone like him?

These questions have troubled poets and writers since biblical times. The image of the Mother is one of the most revered and beloved in Russian literature.

mother's heart

The mother's heart is the most merciful judge, the most sympathetic friend, it is the sun of love, the light of which warms us all our lives.

Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin

"The Sun of Russian Poetry" - a world-famous classic - A.S. Pushkin in childhood was deprived of maternal love. Nadezhda Osipovna had an uneven character, with abrupt changes moods: now she was angry, now she fell into black melancholy, then suddenly she again became affectionate and lively. Alexander most often irritated her and was usually called after another prank for reprisal. Everything annoyed the mother: the boy's stubbornness, his dissimilarity to other children, his incomprehensible complexity.

But still, there were two women in the Pushkins' house, who gave Alexander the maternal love and affection that he so lacked. The nanny is Arina Rodionovna, a serf peasant woman who was set free, but did not want to leave her masters, who nursed their children, and then their grandchildren. Grandmother - Maria Alexandrovna Gannibal, who, according to the poet's sister, Olga Sergeevna, "was a bright mind and educated in her time, spoke and wrote in beautiful Russian ..." It was they who told him fairy tales, legends, introduced him to the world of folk fiction.

Oh! I will keep silent about my mother,
About the charms of mysterious nights,
When in a cap, in an old robe,
Cross me with zeal
And in a whisper it will tell me
About the dead, about the exploits of Bova...
I won’t move from horror, it happened,
Barely breathing, I'll snuggle up under the covers,
Feeling neither legs nor head.
1816

With great love and tenderness, the poet often spoke of his nanny, Arina Rodionovna. She was always there not only when the poet was a child, but also being a famous poet, friend and ally of the participants in the Decembrist movement. She accompanied him both in exile and in isolation in their family estate in the village of Mikhailovsky.

babysitter

Friend of my harsh days,
My decrepit dove!
Alone in the wilderness of pine forests
For a long, long time you've been waiting for me.
You are under the window of your room
Grieving like clockwork
And the spokes are slowing down every minute
In your wrinkled hands.
Looking through the forgotten gates
To the black distant path:
Longing, forebodings, worries
They squeeze your chest all the time.

Madonna - in Catholicism means the Mother of God, the "mother" of a divine creature, the son of God. The embodiment of the ideal of motherhood was the wife of Alexander Sergeevich - Natalya Nikolaevna Goncharova.

Madonna

Not many paintings by old masters
I always wanted to decorate my abode,
So that the visitor marveled at them superstitiously,
Listening to the important judgment of connoisseurs.

In my simple corner, in the midst of slow labors,
One picture I wanted to be forever a spectator,
One: so that on me from the canvas, as from the clouds,
Pure and our divine savior -

She is with greatness, he is with reason in his eyes -
Looked, meek, in glory and in the rays,
Alone, without angels, under the palm tree of Zion.

My wishes have been fulfilled. Creator
He sent you down to me, you, my Madonna,
The purest beauty, the purest example.

The image of the Mother in the work of A.S. Pushkin went through all the stages of poetic evolutionary development: from hostility to his own mother, through kind tender feelings for the nanny and grandmother, to the highest worship of the Holy Mother of God.

Mikhail Yurjevich Lermontov.

Mother M.Yu. Lermontov - Maria Mikhailovna - was very kind person, treated serfs, helped the poor. She often took little Misha on her knees, played the piano and sang.

"When I was a boy of three - recalled Lermontov, -that was the song from which I cried ... Her late mother sang to me ... " Tenderness for the mother and longing for her are reflected in many works of the poet.

Angel

An angel flew across the midnight sky

And he sang a quiet song;

And the moon, and the stars, and the clouds in a crowd

They listened to that song of the saint.

He sang about the bliss of sinless spirits

Under the bushes of paradise gardens;

He sang about the great God, and praise

His was unfeigned.

He carried the soul of the young to the young in his arms

For a world of sorrow and tears,

And the sound of his song is young in the soul,

Remained - without words, but alive.

And for a long time she languished in the world,

Full of wonderful desire;

And the sounds of heaven could not be replaced

She bored the songs of the earth.

1831

Maria Mikhailovna died of consumption in February 1817 at the age of 21 years 11 months 7 days. The theme of loneliness and sadness, which accompanies the poet from early childhood, ran like a red thread through all the work of M.Yu. Lermontov.

Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet.

A.A. Fet's childhood was not entirely happy. But you can’t call him sad either: “... he had everything like many landlord sons, living mainly on land and land. There was village life, ordinary rural life, and around - Central Russian nature "- this is how his daughter later recalled the poet.

The image of the poet's mother is associated with German roots (mother - nee Charlotte-Elizaveta Fet), the future poet was brought up in a German school until the age of 14. Then - the Oryol province with its boundless fields, plains and completely different memories of that time, of a close and dear person - of the mother. In the poems associated with that time, we find closely intertwined folklore:

Lullaby to the heart

Heart - you're a baby!

Take it easy…

Even for a moment of reason

I'm glad to accept

All your sickness!

Sleep, the Lord is with you

Baiushki bye!..

1843

Serenade

Quiet evening burns out

Mountains of gold;

The sultry air is cold, -

Sleep, my child.

The nightingales have long sung,

Twilight proclaim;

The strings timidly rang, -

Sleep, my child.

Watching angelic eyes

tremulously shining;

So light is the breath of the night,

Sleep, my child.

1845

In the later period of his work, the poet turns his attention to the image of the mother as the Mother of God. This is due to internal disagreement in the poetic field, and misunderstanding on the part of relatives, whose love A. Fet was deprived of in childhood. And the poems turn into a prayer:

AVE MARIA

AVE MARIA - the lamp is quiet,

Four verses are ready in the heart:

Pure maiden, grieving mother,

Your grace has penetrated my soul.

Queen of the sky, not the brilliance of the rays,

In a quiet dream come to her!

AVE MARIA - the lamp is quiet,

Four verses are ready in the heart.

1842

The poet represented the appointment of a woman as motherhood, and glorified the woman herself as the Madonna, carrying her son to people in the name of salvation.

Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov.

The childhood of N.A. Nekrasov passed in the village of Greshnevo, which is located on the banks of the great Russian river Volga in a family of wealthy landowners. There was little pleasant in the life around him, the future poet had to experience enough sorrowful minutes. The poem "Motherland" is a biographical saga about his native land, where he spent his childhood, memories of tragic minutes from childhood. His mother, Elena Andreevna, is a kind, gentle woman who resigned herself to fate, lived with a man who tyrannized not only serfs and servants, but also all household members.

…Whose face flickers in the distant alley

Flickers between the branches, painfully sad?

I know why you cry, my mother!

Forever given to the gloomy ignoramus,

You did not indulge in unrealizable hope -

You were frightened by the thought of rebelling against fate,

You carried your lot in the silence of a slave ...

But I know: your soul was not impassive;

She was proud, stubborn and beautiful,

And everything that you have the strength to endure,

Did you forgive your death whisper to the destroyer? ..

Bitterness, pain, longing are also heard in other poems - memories of relatives and friends:

…See me, dear!

Appear as a light shadow for a moment!

You lived your whole life unloved,

You lived your whole life for others

With a head open to the storms of life,

All my life under an angry thunderstorm

You stood - with your chest

Protecting my beloved children...

("Knight for an Hour")

The poet of "revenge and sorrow" in his works often touched upon the tragic fate of a Russian woman, a woman-mother. This is the poem "Russian Women", and the poem "Who Lives Well in Russia", "Frost, Red Nose" and many others.

Village suffering is in full swing...

Share you! - Russian female share,

Hardly harder to find.

No wonder you wither before the time

All-enduring Russian tribe

Long-suffering mother!

And again there are lines from a prayer addressed to the Mother of God, in defense and forgiveness, in mercy:

Day-to-day my sadness,

In the night, the night pilgrimage,

For centuries my dry-house ...

("Orina, mother of a soldier")

Not a single poet before N.A. Nekrasov sang with such force the image of a woman, a woman-mother. How amazing the ideal images are created by the master. How beautiful are the images created by Nekrasov, who are in constant work, the joys and sorrows of motherhood and the struggle for the family.

Poetry of the 20th century. New wave

The twentieth century broke into literature and, in particular, into poetry, with the novelty of forms, versification, size, lexical turns. A lot of different trends appeared with their own ideological views, new themes. But the topic of motherhood not only remained one of the most important, but also sounded with new force. A. Blok, I. Severyanin, O. Mandelstam, M. Tsvetaeva, B. Akhmadulina, E. Yevtushenko and many others addressed this topic more than once.

Sergey Yesenin

But perhaps the most capacious, expressive, national image of the mother belongs to Sergei Yesenin. In the Russian consciousness, the image of the mother has always been assigned a special role: she is the giver of life, and the nurse, and the protector, and the saddener for the hardships of children, she is the personification of her native land, she is the “mother green oak tree”, and “Mother Volga”, and “ Motherland”, and finally, “mother - damp earth” - the last shelter and refuge of every person.

It is unlikely that there will be a person who does not know the Yesenin lines of "Letters to Mother". And even the most hardened heart in the storms of life shrinks at the memory of the mother when reading his poems or singing songs, even if they are strangers, but so similar to him with their love, anxiety, patience.

Are you still alive, my old lady?
I'm alive too. Hello you, hello!
Let it flow over your hut
That evening unspeakable light...<…>
Nothing, dear! Take it easy.
It's just painful bullshit.
I'm not such a bitter drunkard,
To die without seeing you.<…>
I'm still just as gentle
And I only dream about
So that rather from rebellious longing
Return to our low house.<…>
And don't teach me to pray. No need!
There is no return to the old.
You are my only help and joy,
You are my only inexpressible light<… >

1924

S. Yesenin's friend Ivan Evdokimov recalls the poet reading the letter:“... my throat was tightly clamped tightly, hiding and hiding, I cried, in the depths of a huge ridiculous chair, on which I sat in a darkening space between the windows.”

Such a piercingly exciting image of the mother was formed by the poet only at the end of his life. Mother in Yesenin's poems is a symbol of childhood, home, hearth, native land, Motherland. She becomes like all the mothers of the Russian land, patiently waiting for the return of their sons and grieving over their troubles and failures.

The words in the poet's verses are often intertwined with the words of many prayers addressed toMother of God:

“O God the Virgin, do not despise me, a sinner, demanding Your help and your intercession, my soul hopes for you, and have mercy on me ...”

Yesenin, dedicating poems to his mother, made his son's prayer for the Mother. And his prayer reached the heart, broke into the memory forever and became a folk song.

Anna Akhmatova

The stubborn and wayward girl had an evenly cold relationship with her mother, and therefore we do not find warm words dedicated to a carefree childhood. However, the theme of motherhood in A. Akhmatova can be traced from early work. And through all the verses - the image of the Mother Martyr, intercessor, Mother of God.

Mother's share is light torture,

I didn't deserve it.

The gate dissolved into a white paradise,

Magdalena took her son.

My every day is cheerful, good,

I got lost in the long spring

Only hands yearn for the burden,

I only hear his crying in my sleep.

1914

tragic fate Akhmatova repeated the thousands of women's shares that fell on the shoulders of the mothers of the repressed. The pain of all mothers merged into one dark, all-consuming and resulted in the poem "Requiem"

Mountains bend before this grief,
The great river does not flow
But the prison gates are strong,
And behind them "convict holes"
And deadly sadness.
For someone the fresh wind blows,
For someone, the sunset basks -
We don't know, we're the same everywhere
We hear only the hateful rattle of the keys
Yes, steps are heavy soldiers.
We got up like it was early lunchtime.
We walked through the wild capital,

They met there, the dead lifeless,

The sun is lower and the Neva is more foggy,
And hope sings in the distance.
The verdict ... And immediately the tears will gush,
Already separated from everyone
As if life is taken out of the heart with pain,
As if rudely overturned,
But it goes... It staggers... Alone...
Where are the unwitting girlfriends now
My two rabid years?..<…>

The quiet Don flows quietly,
The yellow moon enters the house.
Included in a cap on one side -
Sees the yellow moon shadow.

This woman is sick
This woman is alone
Husband in the grave, son in prison,
Pray for me.<…>

And again the name of the Mother of God sounds, the name of the sufferer, the great martyr - the name of the Mother.

crucifixion
"Do not cry to Me, Mati,
in the grave they are sighted."
1
choir of angels great hour glorified,
And the heavens went up in flames.
He said to his father: "Why did you leave me?"
And Mothers: "Oh, don't cry for me..."

2
Magdalene fought and sobbed,
The beloved student turned to stone,
And to where silently Mother stood,
So no one dared to look.

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva

The poetry of Marina Tsvetaeva is a stream of turbulent memories of a distant carefree childhood, where her mother, Maria Alexandrovna Main, loved to play the piano, instilling a love for music and art in her daughters.

… We, like you, welcome the sunsets
Reveling in the nearness of the end.
All that we are rich on the best evening,
You put us in our hearts.

Tirelessly leaning towards children's dreams

(Without you, only a month looked at them!),
You led your little ones by
Bitter life of thoughts and deeds.

From an early age, who is sad is close to us,
Laughter is boring and homemade is alien ...
Our ship is not sent off in a good moment
And floats at the behest of all winds!

All paler azure island - childhood,
We are alone on deck.
It can be seen that sadness left a legacy
You, O mother, to your girls!

1908

In the cycle "In the first poems about mother" we see and feel all the tenderness and touchingness of Tsvetaeva in relation to loved ones, especially to her mother.

Subsequently, after years wanderings, troubles, rejection, separations, in her lyrics we see an appeal to God, prayer verses.

For the Boy - for the Dove - for the Son,
For Tsarevich young Alexy
Pray, Church Russia!
Wipe angel eyes

Remember how you fell on the slabs
Pigeon Uglitsky - Dimitri.
Affectionate you, Russia, mother!
Oh, don't you have enough
On him - love grace? …

The suffering of a mother who gives her child to people, eternal patience, love, expectation, hope - these are the feelings that permeate the poems of Marina Tsvetaeva, glorifying the difficult mother's lot.

Modernity and poems about mother

Love for a mother is one of the most intimate themes not only in Russianbut also world poetry.

Mom ... this is the purest spring from which every person draws strength. This is our hope, our support, our protection, our love.

In poems about the Great Patriotic War, we see the all-forgiving heart of mothers who see off their sons to the war - to defend the Motherland.

The first bullet in any war

A mother's heart is struck.

Whoever wins last Stand,

And the heart of a mother suffers! ..

(K.Kuliev)

And again, prayers in the verses of contemporaries sound with renewed vigor.

Oh, why are you, the sun is red,

You're all leaving - don't you say goodbye?

Oh, why from a joyless war,

Son, are you coming back?

I will save you from trouble

I will fly like an eagle quickly ...

Respond, my blood!

Small, the only...

White light is not nice.

I got sick.

Come back, my hope!

my grain,

my little dawn,

My goryushko, -

Where are you?

"Requiem" R. Rozhdestvensky

Modern poetry continues the traditions of the classics, singing the image of a mother - a simple peasant woman, a Motherland, a mother-soldier who gave her sons to the war, a mother -Mother of God, who brings to the world a part of herself, her soul, her life - her child.

The theme of separations, meetings, farewells sounds more often ...

We, like moorings, are waiting for native lands ...

And, burnt by the winds of the ways,

You, father's house, returning, as for the first time,

You will see the hands of your mother ...

That they merged all the good, the holy,

And the light of the window, and the trembling of the ripe fields,

That they, sleepless, would have more peace,

And you do not give them all peace!

I. Volobueva.

The mother is metaphorically and figuratively presented in the work written in blank verse by the German poet Zbigniew Herbert "Mother":

He fell from her knees like a ball of wool.

Developed hastily and ran blindly.

She held the beginning of life

about waving around your finger

Like a thin ring. I wanted to save.

And he rolled down the steep and climbed up the mountain.

And he came to her, confused, and was silent.

Will never return to sweet

the throne of her knees.

Outstretched arms shine in the dark

like an old city.

Mom is the closest and dearest person on earth. Next to her, whether we are five, twenty or fifty years old, we are always children, and we have, as S. Yesenin said, “help and joy” in the face of our mothers. The understanding of this does not come immediately, but the older we get, the more acutely we feel the tragedy of the inevitable loss and our guilt for not always being grateful enough, attentive, tender enough. You can't bring back the past, so you have to protect the present.

List of used literature.

Akhmatova A.A. Poems. Poems. Tsvetaeva M.I. Poems. Poem. Dramaturgy. Essay. – M.: Olimp; LLC Firm AST Publishing House, 1998.

Nekrasov N.N. Poems. Poems. Articles. – M.: Olimp; Publishing house AST, 1996.

Poetry of the Silver Age at school: A book for teachers / ed. E.M. Boldyreva, A.V. Ledenev. – M.: Bustard, 2001.

Silver Age. Poetry. (School of classics) - M .: AST, Olympus, 1996.

A.A. Fet.. Leningrad, Soviet writer, 1959.

Purpose: to acquaint with literary works that glorify the image of a woman-mother, to cultivate feelings of love and kindness, compassion and mercy. Form of holding: literary hour.

Mom ... It is this word that the infant's lips first pronounce. And no wonder. There is nothing holier and more selfless than a mother's love. From the first day of the birth of a child, the mother lives by his breath, his tears and smiles. Love for a child is as natural to her as gardens bloom in spring. As the sun sends its rays, warming all living things, so the mother's love warms.

The script of the literary hour dedicated to Mother's Day

"Woman with a child in her arms"

Purpose: to acquaint with literary works that glorify the image of a woman-mother, to cultivate feelings of love and kindness, compassion and mercy.

Form of holding: literary hour.

Parable of the Mother

The day before his birth, the child asked God:
“They say I’m being sent to Earth tomorrow. How will I live there, because I am so small and defenseless?
God replied:
“I will give you an angel who will wait for you and take care of you.
The child thought for a moment, then said again:
“Here in Heaven I only sing and laugh, that is enough for me to be happy.

God replied:
- Your angel will sing and smile for you, you will feel his love and be happy.
- O! But how can I understand him, because I do not know his language? asked the child, gazing intently at God. - What should I do if I want to contact you?
God gently touched the child's head and said:
Your angel will put your hands together and teach you how to pray.

Then the child asked:
“I heard that there is evil on Earth. Who will protect me?
“Your angel will protect you even at the risk of his own life.
"I'll be sad because I won't be able to see you anymore..."
“Your angel will tell you everything about me and show you the way to return to me. So I will always be by your side.

The image of the mother in Russian poetry

Leading: Mom ... It is this word that the infant's lips first pronounce. And no wonder. There is nothing holier and more selfless than a mother's love. From the first day of the birth of a child, the mother lives by his breath, his tears and smiles. Love for a child is as natural to her as gardens bloom in spring. As the sun sends its rays, warming all living things, so the love of a mother warms the life of a child.

Leading: Do you often think about your mother? About the mother who gave you the great right to life, who nursed you with her milk. Happy is the one who from childhood has known maternal affection and has grown up under the caring maternal warmth and light of maternal gaze.

mother child from her breast

He won't give up without a fight!

Covers all worries,

With all my soul

Life is a wonderful light,

What is warmed by her!

(A. Maikov).

Leading: There is a holy page in our poetry, dear and close to any heart that has not hardened, to any soul that has not lost, that has not forgotten or abandoned its origins - these are poems about the mother.

Leading: Poets of all times bowed their knees before the sanctity of maternal duty, before the mother's patience, her devotion, her tenderness, caring, warmth of the heart. No one has expressed the role of a mother in a person's life more strongly and sincerely than Russian poets.

Leading: The image of the mother in Russian poetry has become the standard of feminine virtues.

There is a holy and prophetic sign in nature,
Brightly marked through the centuries:
The most beautiful of women
Woman with a baby in her arms
From any misfortune conjuring
She doesn't do well
No, not the Mother of God, but the earthly one,
Proud, sublime mother
The light of love has been bequeathed to her since ancient times,
And since then she lives for centuries,
The most beautiful of women
Woman with a baby in her arms
Everything in the world is measured by traces,
No matter how many paths you walk
The apple tree is decorated with fruits,
A woman is the fate of her children
May the sun applaud her forever!
So she will live for centuries
The most beautiful of women
Woman with a baby in her arms

Leading: The image of the mother in Russian poetry is successively connected with the folklore tradition. Already in folklore works, the image of the mother appears. In spiritual verses, this image appears through the image of the Mother of God, which is especially revered in Russia.

Leading: Truly, deeply, the theme of the mother sounded in the poetry of Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov. Closed and reserved by nature, Nekrasov literally could not find enough bright words and strong expressions to appreciate the role of his mother in his life. Both young men and old men, Nekrasov always spoke of mothers with love and reverence.

Excerpt from "Mother"

In our mocking and daring age

Great, holy word: "mother"

Does not awaken feelings in a person.

But I used to despise the custom.

I'm not afraid of fashionable mockery.

Fate gave me such a muse:

She sings at the whim of the free

Or is silent, like a proud slave,

I have been among labors and laziness for many years

With shameful cowardice ran away

Captivating, long-suffering shadow,

For sacred memory... The hour has come!.

Maybe I'm doing something wrong

Disturbing your sleep, my mother? sorry!

But I've been suffering all my life for a woman.

To freedom, her paths are ordered;

Shameful captivity, all the horror of the female share,

She left little strength to fight,

But you will give her a lesson of iron will...

Bless, dear: the hour has struck!

Sobbing sounds boil in my chest,

It's time, it's time to entrust my thought to them!

Your love, your holy torment,

Your struggle - ascetic, I sing! ..

Leading: The poem "Listening to the horrors of war ...", dedicated to the Crimean War of 1853 - 1856. This small-sized poem, only 17 lines, succinctly and deeply conveys all the senselessness of a bloody and merciless war, and still remains relevant:

Listening to the horrors of war
With each new victim of the battle
I feel sorry for not a friend, not a wife,
I feel sorry for the hero himself...
Alas! wife will be comforted
And the best friend will forget a friend;
But somewhere there is one soul -
She will remember to the grave!
Among our hypocritical deeds
And all the vulgarity and prose
Alone I spied into the world
Holy, sincere tears -
Those are the tears of poor mothers!
They can't forget their children
Those who died in the bloody field,
How not to raise a weeping willow
Of their drooping branches....

Leading: Nekrasov traditions are reflected in the poetry of the great Russian poet S. A. Yesenin, who created surprisingly sincere poems about his mother, a peasant woman. A bright image of the poet's mother passes through Yesenin's work.

Leading: Endowed with individual traits, it grows into a generalized image of a Russian woman, appears in the poet's youthful poems, as a fabulous image of the one who not only gave the whole world.

Lettermothers

Are you still alive, my old lady?
I'm alive too. Hello you, hello!
Let it flow over your hut
That evening unspeakable light.

They write to me that you, concealing anxiety,
She was very sad about me,
What do you often go to the road
In an old-fashioned ramshackle.

And you in the evening blue darkness
We often see the same thing:
Like someone is in a tavern fight for me
He put a Finnish knife under the heart.

Nothing, dear! Take it easy.
It's just painful bullshit.
I'm not such a bitter drunkard,
To die without seeing you.

I'm still just as gentle
And I only dream about
So that rather from rebellious longing
Return to our low house.

I'll be back when the branches spread
In spring, our white garden.
Only you me already at dawn
Don't wake up like eight years ago.

Don't wake up what you dreamed
Don't worry about what didn't come true -
Too early loss and fatigue
I have experienced in my life.

And don't teach me to pray. No need!
There is no return to the old.
You are my only help and joy,
You are my only inexpressible light.

So forget your worries
Don't be so sad about me.
Don't go to the road so often
In an old-fashioned ramshackle.

<1924>

Leading: The 20th century is the century of a great and cruel war, the century of the Great Feat. The Second World War divided the life of the entire Russian people into “before” and “after”. Mother suffered along with her sons.

Leading: The theme of the mother is present throughout the entire work of A. T. Tvardovsky. For example, in such poems of different years. Very often, the image of the mother in the poet's works goes beyond the dedication to one specific person - his own mother - and becomes the image of the Motherland.

Mother and son

For my own son
The mother watches silently.
What would she
Would you like a son?

Wish you happiness -
Yes, he is happy.
Wish you health -
Young and strong.

Ask for longer
Stayed at home -
military man,
Once to him.

Ask only
Mother did not forget -
But he's letters to her
I wrote from the Pole.

In order not to catch a cold
Give him advice?
Yes, it hurts so much
He is warmly dressed.

Specify the bride -
Where is it! He will find.
Whatever she said
Clear ahead.

For my own son
The mother watches silently.
Nothing as if
Wish, say.

Believe - not in vain
The son is learning to fly.
How can he take care of
He knows better.

The thing is, it's easier
Doesn't suit him.
Mothers, yes to
Don't know this!

And with the enemy you have to
Meet in battle
He won't give away
Your head.

Mothers - yes to
Don't know this...
For my own son
The mother watches silently.

Leading: The mother lost her sons at the front, she survived the occupation and was left with small children in her arms without bread and shelter, she worked to exhaustion in the shops and fields and, with all her might helping the Fatherland to stand, shared the last piece with the front. She endured and overcame everything, and therefore in our minds the concepts of Motherland and Mother have long merged into one:

Mother

Aliyev's phase

Mother! Native, beloved! Listen!

Forgive me, mother, for the bitter torment,

Sorry for the tired black hands

For taking away your sleep in the morning,

For the fact that I was sick in my childhood a lot ...

I take your hands in deep wrinkles,

I take your warm eyes on my lips.

And rolling - pouring transparent lines,

And word for word fell to the pen.

Wounded by eternal suffering

Their all-mother mind

Challenges

humanity:

"My son is alive

all the living!”

Don't forget them

those naive

And forever young sons

How not to raise

weeping willow

Of their weeping branches.

Not bad old women

Tears feed evil sadness,

rising from ruin

Living mother -

holy Russia!

Leading: The world is unsettled again, "hot spots" appear in different parts of the planet, the reflections of fires flare up, terrorists destroy all life, children's crying is heard again and again. And above all this chaos grows the proud and unshakable image of the Mother

Everyone stand up and listen standing up

Preserved in all its glory

This word is ancient, holy!

Straighten up! Get up!..

Stand up everyone!

As forests rise with a new dawn,

Like blades of grass rushing up to the sun,

Stand up everyone, having heard this word,

Because this word is life.

This word is a call and a spell,

In this word - a living soul,

This is the first spark of consciousness,

Baby's first smile.

Let this word always be

And, breaking through any traffic jam,

Even in the heart of stone will awaken

Silenced conscience reproach.

This word will never deceive,

There is a life being hidden in it,

It is the source of everything. He has no end.

Get up!..

I pronounce it: "Mom!"

The history of development and the meaning of the image of the mother in Russian poetry.

Chapter 2. The image of the mother in the poetry of A. Blok.

Chapter 3. The image of the mother in the poetry of A. Akhmatova.

Chapter 4. The image of the mother in the poetry of A. Tvardovsky.

Introduction to the thesis (part of the abstract) on the theme "The Image of the Mother in Russian Poetry of the 20th Century: A. Blok, A. Akhmatova, A. Tvardovsky"

Dissertation conclusion on the topic "Russian literature", Meleksetyan, Marina Valerievna

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