About November for children
November is a harsh and gloomy month. Our ancestors called it differently: JELLY, LEAF, BREAST, SEMI-WINTER.
The dim days of late autumn are short. There is not enough white light. It dawns late, it gets dark early. People say: “In November, dawn meets dusk in the middle of the day.” First winters. Snow mixed with mud. The chilled fields shrank, the meadow turned grey. Already in the evening the frost covers the puddles with young ice and sweeps along the edges of the banks. The river is freezing. Soon the snow feather bed will spread out - the keeper of warmth.
November is the twilight of the year. The month of the first ice. The last month of autumn.
Signs of November
It's no wonder there are white flies in November. (Snow.)
November is an off-road vehicle: now snow, now mud, now mud, now snow - neither the wheel nor the runner can move.
In November, warmth and frost are not a decree.
In November there are mosquitoes - there will be a mild winter.
The river cannot be bound in winter without November the blacksmith.
The first lasting snow falls on the wet ground at night.
If there are piles of ice on the river, there will be piles of bread.
When the snow blows, the bread will come; the water will spill, and the seed will be collected.
Late leaf fall means hard work.
Proverbs and sayings of November
In November, winter fights with autumn.
In November, the fat autumn woman fights the feisty winter.
In November the frost subsides.
November is September's grandson, October's son, winter's brother.
November can give some coldness to all the rich people, and there will be some left over for all the poor brethren.
Father, October is cold, and November has made it too cold.
The first snowball is not easy.
The first snowball arrived for leave, lay there and left.
Warmth for an old man in the night on a hot stove.
November builds ice bridges, and December nails.
Whoever does not feel cold in November will not freeze in December.
November's forge is not great, but it forges fetters for all rivers.
Two friends met: ringing frost and white blizzard.
The snow falls on everyone - no one is afraid.
Don't look for mushrooms in the snow.
November nights are dark before the snow.
Riddles about November
The field turned black and white, now rain and now snow is falling.
And it got colder - the waters of the rivers were frozen with ice.
The winter rye is freezing in the field. What month is it, tell me?
The rooks have flown away, the forests have turned yellow,
Some only pine and spruce trees are green.
The days have become shorter, the nights have become longer...
Who can say, who knows when this happens?
Sometimes it’s cold, sometimes it’s hot,
Sometimes he is good, sometimes he is evil,
It will unexpectedly fly into open windows,
It will whisper something, then suddenly it will hum.
It will quiet down, rush away, rush again,
Then he decides to drive waves across the sea.
It lives in seas and rivers, but often flies across the sky.
And when she gets bored of flying, she falls to the ground again.
We have golden chicks in our stove.
(Firewood in the stove.)
What kind of stars are there on the coat and on the scarf?
Everything is through-cut, and if you take it, there’s water in your hand.
(Snowflakes.)
He's busy all the time
He can't go in vain.
He goes and paints it white
Everything he sees along the way.
Without planks, without axes, the bridge across the river is ready.
The bridge is like blue glass: slippery, fun, light.
They fly without wings, they run without legs, they sail without sails.
The longest-legged one walks without a path and without a road.
Hiding in the clouds, in the darkness, only his feet are on the ground.
An invisible mischievous man entered our room.
The curtains danced, the calendar began to dance.
It’s good that the door immediately slammed shut on us.
(Draft.)
The fish live warmly in the winter: the roof is thick glass.
A white swarm curled and curled, sat down on the ground and became a mountain.
It's fluffy and silvery, but don't touch it with your hand:
It will become a drop of pure as soon as you catch it in the palm of your hand.
Stars fall from the sky and fall on the fields,
Let the black earth hide underneath them.
Many, many stars as thin as glass;
The stars are cold, but the earth is warm!
(Snowflakes.)
The fluffy carpet is not woven by hand, not sewn with silk,
In the sun, in the moonlight, it glitters like silver.
Poems about November for children
November-deciduous
Wanders through the leafy forest.
Autumn fights winter.
Well, the sun, as if it were a sin,
Smiling through the snow.
And the dawn looks and looks
For the vagaries of November.
And on the road among the fields
The song is heard by the sleigh.
Me and a friend on a couch
Everyone dreams about sleds at night.
M. Sukhorukova
Autumn
The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she stripped herself,
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.
A. Pushkin
Late fall,
The rachis have flown away,
The forest is exposed
The fields are empty.
N. Nekrasov
Autumn has come, the flowers have dried up,
And the bare bushes look sadly.
The grass in the meadows withers and turns yellow,
The winter fields are just turning green...
Boring picture! Endless clouds
The rain is pouring down, there are puddles on the porch.
A. Pleshcheev
First snow
What's outside the window? Immediately the house brightened -
This snow lies like a carpet, the very first, the whitest.
This is what the wind whistled outside my window all night,
He wanted to say about the snow and about welcoming winter.
On the fence, on the porch, everything glitters and everything is white,
There is no free place, there is snow everywhere.
Rowan also dressed up in a white festive outfit,
Only the grapes at the top burn brighter than before.
E. Trutneva
Snowflake
Light fluffy white snowflake,
How pure, how brave.
The stormy road easily rushes by,
Not to the azure heights, but to the earth...
A brave fluffy snowflake lies,
How clean, how white.
K. Balmont
First snow
In the morning I looked at the light -
The yard is dressed for winter.
I opened the doors wide open,
I look into the garden and can’t believe my eyes.
Hey, look, miracles,
The skies have fallen!
There was a cloud above us
It turned out to be underfoot.
A. Gunuli
Two autumns
The golden autumn is leaving,
It is being replaced by another:
Silver autumn.
With the sad sound of pine trees,
With black paths
With bare aspen trees,
With the first snowflakes,
With the chill of the night
Yes, with crispy ice.
They fly away - they fly away
White snowstorms coming soon
The snow will be lifted from the ground.
They fly away, they fly away,
The cranes flew away.
Don't hear the cuckoos in the grove,
And the birdhouse was empty,
The stork flaps its wings -
He flies away, he flies away.
Leaf swaying patterned
In a blue puddle on the water.
A rook walks with a black rook
In the garden along the ridge.
They crumbled and turned yellow
Rare rays of the sun.
They fly away, they fly away,
The rooks also flew away.
E. Blaginina
Autumn
Various birds flew away,
Their sonorous chorus ceased.
And the rowan tree celebrates autumn,
Putting on red beads.
O. Vysotskaya
Sparrow
Doesn't fly south in autumn
“Tweet” outside the windows All winter.
And I am like an old faithful friend to him,
I'll take some bread crumbs.
R. Kucherenko
Above the ground, soaring in the autumn,
The winds blew the sheets cold.
And they need bed rest,
Snow-white, ironed.
Little Sparrows,
Little gray feathers!
Peck, peck the crumbs
From the palm of my hand!
No, they don’t peck from the palm of your hand
And they don't let me pet you.
How can we get along?
To let them pet you?
November-Leafy. It's getting cold. , more and more frequent light rain falls without respite, and the fogs linger. The name of the month is Deciduous, because the trees shed their last leaves. The weather especially seems cold with rain and sleet. Nature is ready for winter. It's about to snow.
Poems about November
G. Sorenkova
The wind freezes in November
Got a cold from the cold:
He's at dawn
Met with the cold.
The cloudy sky is blue
Closed from the ground
And autumn grass
Covered with frost.
The ice on the puddle shines,
The puddle freezes.
It's winter that's coming to us,
Autumn sees off.
L. Lukanova
The rain is pouring down like buckets,
The kids are sitting at home.
The whole November is gloomy,
It's cold outside
N. Samonii November.
Today autumn has become stricter,
The day is increasingly bad.
The wind is cold and terribly angry.
The birds said goodbye to us.
A. Metzger
November - we can’t go for a walk,
Now the frost burns, now the wind cries.
The bear will go to sleep in the den,
Wait - winter is coming towards us, that means.
The snow fell like white speckles
whitewashed the paths.
Trampled on the bench
white cat a little
But november- plasterer
knows his stuff
he's on black houses
does not spare chalk.
The city was closed for repairs
master blizzard,
piles snow behind the gate
babies to each other.
Fences in white caps
lanterns and pipes,
tied a white scarf
the monument is gloomy.
Will you already share
exhale-inhale with a pillow,
and winter whitens all night
will be white shavings
N. Kapustyuk
The “worldwide” flood is outside the window!
My home has set sail.
And with him I, sister and cat,
Aquarium, dog Toshka,
Seryozha is a friend, he is my neighbor...
And there is rain all around, and there is no sun!
You can't even see the horizon!
And the house needs an umbrella too:
Water above, water below...
We are sailing to who knows where!
Checking the calendar, -
Forward! For winter! By November!
T. Kersten
The apple and plum trees are bare.
Our autumn garden looks sad.
Outside the window it’s either raining or cold snow.
Everyone’s soul is gloomy and uncomfortable.
The sun drowned in the puddles of November.
But let's not be angry with him in vain.
Let's prepare skis, sleds and skates.
Winter days await us very soon.
A. Fukalov
In November there is rain and snow,
The forest is all gloomy.
Every person knows
That November is unprepossessing.
In November the trees sleep
The autumn garden is beaten down by the rain.
The rain will stop. After,
It will cover the snow with its carpet.
Riddles about November
The field became black and white:
It rains and snows.
And it got colder -
The waters of the rivers were frozen with ice.
The winter rye is freezing in the field.
What month is it, tell me?
There is ice on the puddles in November
Will bring a mirror shine,
Outside the window and along the edges
We will hang feeders
And let's feed the bullfinch
On the threshold...
(Winter)
Who doesn't let us in warmly,
Does the first snow scare us?
Who calls us to the cold,
You know? Of course yes!
Not prickly, light blue
Hanged in the bushes...
(Frost)
Not snow, not ice,
And with silver he will remove the trees.
(Frost)
The clouds are catching up,
Howls and blows.
Prowls the world
Sings and whistles.
(Wind)
It's not a bird that flies,
Howls, not an animal.
(Wind)
Proverbs and sayings about November
In November there are seven weather conditions: it sows, it blows, it crushes, it stirs, it roars, it pours and it sweeps from below.
A month of short days and long nights.
Autumn is losing ground, giving way to winter. November is the last month of living water.
Snowy November rides out on a pinto mare.
In November the frost subsides.
November - off-road: now snow, now mud, now mud, now snow - neither the wheel nor the runner can move.
In November, it may rain in the morning, and by the evening the snow may lie in drifts.
November - September's grandson, October's son, winter's brother.
In November, the man says goodbye to the cart and climbs into the sleigh.
In November, the December frost is abysmal.
In November, dawn meets dusk in the middle of the day.
In November, autumn - the fat woman fights with the feisty one - in winter.
In November there will be snow - bread will arrive.
November nights are dark before the snow.
In November, winter fights with autumn.
November is the gate of winter.
November is the twilight of the year.
In November, the first lasting snow falls overnight.
In November, the sun smiles through tears and “white flies”.
In November, warmth and frost are not a decree.
If the sky cries in November, then winter will follow the rain.
Mosquitoes in November - be a mild winter.
Whoever does not feel cold in November will not freeze in December.
It's no wonder there are white flies (snow) in November.
The river cannot be bound in winter without November, the blacksmith.
November's forge is small, but it forges fetters for all the rivers.
November semi-winter road: a man says goodbye to a cart and climbs into a sleigh.
We develop by playing
Paintings by artists
Efim Volkov "Early snow"
I. Brodsky "Late Autumn"
Levitan "Autumn. Road in the village"
Isaac Ilyich Levitan "Late Autumn. Estate"
Shishkin I.I. "First snow"
Nilus P. A. "Autumn"
Kiselev A. A. "Autumn. Windy day"
Panin Sergey "First snow. November"
Y. Zyablov "November"
I. Levitan "Autumn"
Vyacheslav Vasilievich Karakhanov "November"
Nechaev Alexander "November. The river is getting cold."
Gremitskikh Vladimir "November"
Belov Sergey Alexandrovich "November. Evening"
Vitaly Makarov "November in Zheleznovodsk"
Vishnevsky Andrey "Early November"
Poems about November, poems about natural changes in November.
Educational poems about autumn for preschool children.
Poems about November for children
November-deciduous
Wanders through the leafy forest.
Autumn fights winter.
Well, the sun, as if it were a sin,
Smiling through the snow.
And the dawn looks and looks
For the vagaries of November.
And on the road among the fields
The song is heard by the sleigh.
Me and a friend on a couch
Everyone dreams about sleds at night.
M. Sukhorukova
Autumn
The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she stripped herself,
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.
A. Pushkin
Late fall,
The rachis have flown away,
The forest is exposed
The fields are empty.
N. Nekrasov
Autumn has come, the flowers have dried up,
And the bare bushes look sadly.
The grass in the meadows withers and turns yellow,
The winter fields are just turning green...
Boring picture! Endless clouds
The rain is pouring down, there are puddles on the porch.
A. Pleshcheev
First snow
What's outside the window? Immediately the house brightened -
This snow lies like a carpet, the very first, the whitest.
This is what the wind whistled outside my window all night,
He wanted to say about the snow and about welcoming winter.
On the fence, on the porch, everything glitters and everything is white,
There is no free place, there is snow everywhere.
Rowan also dressed up in a white festive outfit,
Only the grapes at the top burn brighter than before.
E. Trutneva
Snowflake
Light fluffy white snowflake,
How pure, how brave.
The stormy road easily rushes by,
Not to the azure heights, but to the earth...
A brave fluffy snowflake lies,
How clean, how white.
K. Balmont
First snow
In the morning I looked at the light -
The yard is dressed for winter.
I opened the doors wide open,
I look into the garden and can’t believe my eyes.
Hey, look, miracles,
The skies have fallen!
There was a cloud above us
It turned out to be underfoot.
A. Gunuli
Two autumns
The golden autumn is leaving,
It is being replaced by another:
Silver autumn.
With the sad sound of pine trees,
With black paths
With bare aspen trees,
With the first snowflakes,
With the chill of the night
Yes, with crispy ice.
They fly away - they fly away
White snowstorms coming soon
The snow will be lifted from the ground.
They fly away, they fly away,
The cranes flew away.
Don't hear the cuckoos in the grove,
And the birdhouse was empty,
The stork flaps its wings -
He flies away, he flies away.
Leaf swaying patterned
In a blue puddle on the water.
A rook walks with a black rook
In the garden along the ridge.
They crumbled and turned yellow
Rare rays of the sun.
They fly away, they fly away,
The rooks also flew away.
E. Blaginina
Autumn
Various birds flew away,
Their sonorous chorus ceased.
And the rowan tree celebrates autumn,
Putting on red beads.
O. Vysotskaya
Sparrow
Doesn't fly south in autumn
“Tweet” outside the windows All winter.
And I am like an old faithful friend to him,
I'll take some bread crumbs.
R. Kucherenko
Above the ground, soaring in the autumn,
The winds blew the sheets cold.
And they need bed rest,
Snow-white, ironed.
Little Sparrows,
Little gray feathers!
Peck, peck the crumbs
From the palm of my hand!
No, they don’t peck from the palm of your hand
And they don't let me pet you.
How can we get along?
To let them pet you?
Well, here it is - the last month of autumn. And it’s not warm at all outside anymore. And the breath of nature is becoming colder. And poems about November for children are also literally saturated with this coolness. This anticipation of winter.
But poetry is just poetry. And no one stops us from reading poems about November to the kids, sitting in a warm, cozy home. Let's take advantage of this undeniable advantage! 🙂
A. Tvardovsky
NOVEMBER
The Christmas tree has become more noticeable in the forest,
It is tidied up before dark and is empty.
And naked as a broom,
Clogged with mud by the dirt road,
Blown by ash frost,
The vine bush trembles and whistles.
M. Sadovsky
NOVEMBER
Black forest
Irresistible
Drawn to the roots
Behind the November pre-winter
The soul awaits snow soon.
Behind the gloomy nights
Round dance of white dances,
For patience and sorrow
The long-awaited New Year!
FLOOD IN NOVEMBER
The “worldwide” flood is outside the window!
My home has set sail.
And with him I, sister and cat,
Aquarium, dog Toshka,
Seryozha is a friend, he is my neighbor...
And there is rain all around, and there is no sun!
You can't even see the horizon!
And the house needs an umbrella too:
Water above, water below...
We are sailing to who knows where!
Checking the calendar, -
Forward! For winter! By November!
N. Samonii
NOVEMBER
Today autumn has become stricter,
The day is increasingly bad.
The wind is cold and terribly angry.
The birds said goodbye to us.
N. Maidanik
NOVEMBER
November is a hunchbacked old man,
The eyes are like ice, the nose is a hook!
The look is dissatisfied and prickly,
Cold month, clouds in the sky.
Seeing off the golden autumn,
And welcomes the white winter!
He changes heat to cold
And he gets tired - he’s no longer young!
But the north wind will help:
He will pick the leaves and lay them in the carpet,
Will cover the earth with a blanket,
So that it doesn't freeze until spring!
A.S. Pushkin
The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
She stripped herself naked with a sad noise.
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.
G. Sorenkova
NOVEMBER
The wind freezes in November
Got a cold from the cold:
He's at dawn
Met with the cold.
The cloudy sky is blue
Closed from the ground
And autumn grass
Covered with frost.
The ice on the puddle shines,
The puddle freezes.
It's winter that's coming to us,
Autumn sees off.
T. Kersten
DAD NOVEMBER
The apple and plum trees are bare.
Our autumn garden looks sad.
Outside the window it’s either raining or cold snow.
Everyone’s soul is gloomy and uncomfortable.
The sun drowned in the puddles of November.
But let's not be angry with him in vain.
Let's prepare skis, sleds and skates.
Winter days await us very soon
Well, a poem familiar to all parents of the 20th century. And now... Well, I don’t know how you can explain to your child now why November 7 is a red day on the calendar. 🙂 Try it, because the poem is memorable))
S. Marshak
NOVEMBER
The seventh day of November -
Red calendar day.
Look out your window:
Everything on the street is red.
Flags flutter at the gates,
Blazing with flames.
See, the music is on
Where the trams were.
All the people - both young and old -
Celebrates freedom.
And my red ball flies
Straight to the sky!
Great ones about poetry:
Poetry is like painting: some works will captivate you more if you look at them closely, and others if you move further away.
Small cutesy poems irritate the nerves more than the creaking of unoiled wheels.
The most valuable thing in life and in poetry is what has gone wrong.
Marina Tsvetaeva
Of all the arts, poetry is the most susceptible to the temptation to replace its own peculiar beauty with stolen splendors.
Humboldt V.
Poems are successful if they are created with spiritual clarity.
The writing of poetry is closer to worship than is usually believed.
If only you knew from what rubbish poems grow without knowing shame... Like a dandelion on a fence, like burdocks and quinoa.
A. A. Akhmatova
Poetry is not only in verses: it is poured out everywhere, it is all around us. Look at these trees, at this sky - beauty and life emanate from everywhere, and where there is beauty and life, there is poetry.
I. S. Turgenev
For many people, writing poetry is a growing pain of the mind.
G. Lichtenberg
A beautiful verse is like a bow drawn through the sonorous fibers of our being. The poet makes our thoughts sing within us, not our own. By telling us about the woman he loves, he delightfully awakens in our souls our love and our sorrow. He's a magician. By understanding him, we become poets like him.
Where graceful poetry flows, there is no room for vanity.
Murasaki Shikibu
I turn to Russian versification. I think that over time we will turn to blank verse. There are too few rhymes in the Russian language. One calls the other. The flame inevitably drags the stone behind it. It is through feeling that art certainly emerges. Who is not tired of love and blood, difficult and wonderful, faithful and hypocritical, and so on.
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
-...Are your poems good, tell me yourself?
- Monstrous! – Ivan suddenly said boldly and frankly.
- Do not write anymore! – the newcomer asked pleadingly.
- I promise and swear! - Ivan said solemnly...
Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov. "Master and Margarita"
We all write poetry; poets differ from others only in that they write in their words.
John Fowles. "The French Lieutenant's Mistress"
Every poem is a veil stretched over the edges of a few words. These words shine like stars, and because of them the poem exists.
Alexander Alexandrovich Blok
Ancient poets, unlike modern ones, rarely wrote more than a dozen poems during their long lives. This is understandable: they were all excellent magicians and did not like to waste themselves on trifles. Therefore, behind every poetic work of those times there is certainly hidden an entire Universe, filled with miracles - often dangerous for those who carelessly awaken the dozing lines.
Max Fry. "Chatty Dead"
I gave one of my clumsy hippopotamuses this heavenly tail:...
Mayakovsky! Your poems do not warm, do not excite, do not infect!
- My poems are not a stove, not a sea, and not a plague!
Vladimir Vladimirovich Mayakovsky
Poems are our inner music, clothed in words, permeated with thin strings of meanings and dreams, and therefore, drive away the critics. They are just pathetic sippers of poetry. What can a critic say about the depths of your soul? Don't let his vulgar groping hands in there. Let poetry seem to him like an absurd moo, a chaotic pile-up of words. For us, this is a song of freedom from a boring mind, a glorious song sounding on the snow-white slopes of our amazing soul.
Boris Krieger. "A Thousand Lives"
Poems are the thrill of the heart, the excitement of the soul and tears. And tears are nothing more than pure poetry that has rejected the word.
