Modern poetry writing

Modern Poetry Writing 1 Every time you type a word,

My heart wandered once.

In the flashing screen

Full of pale faces.

Those who are at a loss

Let me panic from the bottom of my heart

Many voices are like this, without warning.

Run out and pull my ear.

Accuse me of my sins hysterically.

Scold my scandal.

one by one

I sat still.

Incite with the corners of the mouth rising

A new round of crusade and resentment

More and more voices

Strange, familiar, unknown

Stand in front of me confidently.

Chatting, blue face, red eyes, panting.

Until the moon blushes

Until my eyes are full of guilt and regret.

Just walk away.

In this way, I spent a poem.

To condense it all.

Then use your trembling fingers.

Looking for a moment of poetry on an orderly keyboard

Or is this just a reflection?

The night is quiet, but I can't hear its heartbeat.

I don't even feel it.

In my blood.

A few agitation is rolling.

I was vaguely indignant at what had just happened.

A few wisps of smoke linger between your fingers.

Hold my heart high.

Look down.

Watching your back fade away

With his specious words.

A thoughtful footprint

quarter-deck

Travel again and again.

It took me a long time to wake up.

Get up from the mire of meditation

Smoothes the characters on the whole screen.

Until dawn knocks on the window.

Modern Poetry Writing 2 The rape blossoms in the distance are blooming brightly.

It seems like another spring.

That winter, the poet said

He no longer writes poetry.

The wound at the corner

On the dark gray marble floor

expand

Loneliness is like a deep town.

Ancient phoenix tree

A building that is neither cold nor hard.

The neon lights dimmed.

Stars in the night sky

It was still that winter.

Small leaves fell from the tree.

Western jackdaw in the west where the sky flies.

Break the heart of fallen leaves

Another building has been built in this town.

Like a stiff corpse.

The trees in the town fell down.

The poet's pen is broken.

He said he was a poet.

He said that he would never write poetry again.

It's another spring

The rape flowers in the distance are blooming brilliantly.

Weak spring breeze

Can't open the door of the town

He said he was a poet.

Live in a small town

He said that he would never write poetry again.

Modern Poetry Writing 3 Silence

Is a kind of enjoyment

Can make all emotions

Everyone has gathered back.

wholeheartedly

Write poems for you.

I know

You are also a person who loves poetry.

therefore

I must make sentences carefully.

Sensitivity is a word.

Touch is a word.

I just want to look at you quietly from my dream.

Suffer from insomnia

After all, it's not a good thing.

Surprised your dream.

My heart will not be calm.

The night is far away.

Has turned into a wisp of incense.

The moon is hanging high.

You are still awake

recently

You are too tired.

I can't shelter the flowers in my dreams from the wind and rain.

This is my pain.

Let me sit next to your dream.

Accompany you with the lightest and weakest words.

Before you fall asleep.

The night is blue.

Dream shadow floating

You at midnight

Actually, it's not beautiful at all

It is a kind of weak exhaustion.

I know

You want to be tired, too

Have a generous chest, cry.

Or coquetry

Vent all the depression and dissatisfaction.

But you can't

this evening

Let me be a passer-by in your dream.

Listen to you.

Midnight is empty.

So happiness began to flow.

I like this sentence of poetry friends very much

Just borrow it.

a pen

Dance after the phone call

Write poems for you.

I suddenly felt a romantic atmosphere.

Take me in.

On this quiet night

This is a romance that only belongs to you and me.

Light and fluttering

Close your eyes.

Breathe gently.

Now this space belongs only to you.

Sleep quietly.

good night

come here

over here

have a dream

Let's stop dreaming.

Sleep till dawn

Modern Poetry Writing 4 Poetry is the beauty of life,

Poetry is the expectation of love,

Poetry is the singing of the soul,

Poetry is the most beautiful language,

Poetry comes from life,

Emotionally speaking,

Let go of the past,

Dress in a string.

Into a smart language,

That's a poem.

Poetic,

Freehand brushwork is the most extensive,

With the beauty of the four seasons,

Nature with scenery,

There are scenes of work,

Have experience in life,

There are portraits,

A beautiful biography of events.

An extension of morality,

Spiritual prominence,

Between the lines.

An agile and wonderful performance,

That sentence,

One article after another,

Are inspired by life.

Poetic,

The most emotional,

Sing with your heart,

Emotional love,

There is lingering love.

There are joys and sorrows of parting,

There are endless thoughts,

Affectionate,

There is an agitation of lofty sentiments,

There was a melancholy speech,

There is a painful bondage.

There is loneliness.

Write poetry,

Is to love the motherland,

Love the people,

Love home,

Love the person you love,

Be friendly.

Love your career,

Love life,

Love courage,

Write poetry.

Is to perceive life,

Enjoy life,

In order to promote justice,

Is to advocate goodness.

Be full of true feelings,

This is for love on earth.

Modern poetry writing 5 lies book advice, spring water and moonlight.

The small window near the river is the artistic conception of the Tang Dynasty.

Telling the story of ancient five willows, the crescent moon is like a hook.

I am still writing poetry in spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Cooking smoke and villages ten miles away.

Someone is coming, gesturing consolingly.

A depth, beyond the noise of the world of mortals.

Poetry is like water, fresh and gentle.

Bloom the green shoots of the stars for me.

I stare, my eyes are like raindrops and dewdrops.

Fall in the dark

At this moment, my face is as quiet as a piece.

The brightly lit elevator descended in the poem.

Layers of flashing snow, rain, electricity and wind

The floor of the spirit of change

In the darkness at the bottom, something came out of my face.

Passengers, suddenly blooming into a flower, a flower in early spring.

Between lines of poetry and lines of poetry, the crack zone

I listened quietly, lingered and sat.

Listen to the wind and rain, it's raining in the middle.

The rift valley below rumbles.

The torrent of blood and tears, a piece of nirvana thunder and lightning.

The clouds rose and wrapped me in a dark tree.

A rich explosion, burning blood

Long lines of poetry extend to the depths of the storm.

Go deep into time and space.

A plane full of dreams

The spiritual track, in my inner world, is

Clouds floating, feeling countless, engine sound pulsating.

Fly, sail to the turbulent horizon.

A depth, in a long poem

I walked repeatedly, kept walking, and walked all my life.

Loneliness and pain are a pair of shoes that I take off outside of poetry.

In the gradually brightening lines

My hand stopped on the dark words.

Feel the convection between blood.

The abyss below is covered with endless burning glaciers.

Modern Poetry 6, a poet, never knows what he wrote.

It's just a gentle word.

Midnight Rooting and Writing

Once upon a time, agile as a spring.

At your fingertips in droves.

Telling the ordinary and sad.

Words are full of sadness.

Be careful of hidden thoughts and sow in the forest.

This industry has developed for several years.

Think about it and deal with it lightly.

So melancholy

This kind of injury

In that case,

Someone has given a different definition-poem.

Time never stops.

Memories have been weathered.

Tender feelings can't stop the truth of reality.

now

A familiar stranger in the distance.

The five flavors are basically calm as water.

There is no hope of love

There is no reason to hate.

Face, indifference

Maybe I'm tired and have no time to remember.

Maybe I'm tired and don't want to think about it deliberately.

I am still sleepy when I am quiet, and my mind is blank.

Modern Poetry Writing 7- 1

always

Higher than humans

Transcending experience

Above the phenomenon

Overtime

Like a falcon in the dark

be sharp-eyed

Cold wing

Fast as lightning

Catch, soar

two

Walking alone in the desert for ten years.

front

Or the desert?

Accompany oneself

Except shadows.

The one who has been dead for thousands of years.

Populus euphratica going straight into the sky

three

early morning

In order to pass a drop of dew on the grass

You will cry.

Although I know

It doesn't shine by itself.

but

Irrepressible tears

Has become a river.

four

Looking for a thousand years

Get a thousand years of news.

Years have already ruined the face.

And then stuffed in vertical and horizontal ravines.

Purple rose

But, you know,

You just separated yesterday.

That's all. /that's all/that's all

five

Blue sky, white clouds and grassland

The vast space between heaven and earth

In the corner of the river bank

Hug a soft lamb.

silent

Ren Tiandi biography

Let time grow old.

Modern poetry writing 8 think about it.

The bright moon overhead.

Poor thing

Lipper

Wander in a foreign land

lonely

have a look at

The moonlight in front of me

I was moved.

Su Shi

Drunk in the Mid-Autumn Festival

Bold and uninhibited

The sea becomes a mulberry field, and the mulberry field becomes the sea-time has brought great changes to the world.

Things are still there, but people are not what they used to be.

this evening

The moon is as high as the sky.

Still rolling like that.

As bright as ever

Those descendants of the ancients

Don't wear it too early.

Hanfu Tang suit

ah

River of no return

Sigh about the past and warn against repeating it.

In the long river of history

Countless scenery has become a thing of the past.

You can stay.

This is a heavy idea.

Sweeter than moon cakes.

More fragrant than osmanthus.

therefore

No matter where it is.

As long as tonight

Relatives in Yue Ming's hometown

It's a picture.

Never vague

The image of a painting

August 15

Is to make these paintings.

The most outstanding painter

I have a mature heart.

But I want to write poems simply.

Like a child.

If you want to cry, you will tear your heart out.

Dance if you want to laugh.

Just kidding about spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Open your eyes at dawn every day.

Open your arms to the sun.

Gradually clear away the strangeness of this world.

Staring at strangers and giggling suddenly.

Peeing on mom's back secretly.

I have sensitive senses.

But I am willing to simply write poetry.

Just like mosquitoes.

In the endless darkness

Let the feeling fly with wings to the trembling blood vessels

Pick a skin full of temptation.

Stick it down quietly and suck hard.

Then he patted his ass and ran away.

Sit down in a safe place to digest hunger.

I also have a mixed tone of life.

But I want to write poems simply.

Just like a carriage.

It's dusty in peacetime.

Bend down and scream in the rough season

On the journey from mountain to mountain

Asthma is like a cow sweating.

Remember every arrival as the swan song of life.

In this way, in the flashy years,

Simple life, free surfing.

from now on

Simple poetry, simple life.

Praise the radian of the sun during the day.

Appreciate the moonlight curtain at night.

Brew the past clouds into a pot of green tea.

Taste and simply walk by.

Modern Poetry Writing 10 Mom, I really want to write poems for you.

But after thinking for a long time, I still dare not write.

I'm afraid this clumsy pen can't describe your beauty

I'm afraid this thin word cannot describe your noble soul.

Today I finally got up the courage to write a poem for you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday, mom.

It's hard for you to conceive me in October.

You feed me sweet milk.

go to all lengths

Teach me to walk.

You bend down.

I have grown up.

But you are blue and have white hair.

Your love is like the spring breeze.

Blow away my heart

Your love is like a drizzle

Moisten my heart

Your love is a navigation light.

Light up the direction of my life

Your love is an umbrella.

Open a windless blue sky for me.

Your love is like water, and there is rigidity in softness.

When I am wronged

You are a warm harbor.

When I was sick

You are warm comfort and care.

When I travel far away

You are the voice of reminding and missing.

Hungry, you are a bowl of delicious millet porridge.

Thirst, you are just a cup of warm fragrant tea.

When you are cold, you are a red flame.

When it is hot, you are a cold fan.

Tired, you are a hotbed of comfort.

Always close, never give up.

Time has taken away your face.

But it left us with elegance.

You use rough hands

Embroider the golden age for us.

Your eyes are blurred.

In exchange for our light.

Your hair has turned white.

We grew up in your arms.

Your greatness unites our flesh and blood.

Your selflessness has shaped our souls.

Your love is higher than the mountain.

Because you have a heart like a mountain.

Your love is deeper than the sea.

Because you are as generous as the sea.

Your love is as pure as white clouds and as brilliant as flowers.

I want to praise you, my dear mother.

I want to praise you, my dear mother.

I want to bless you, my dear mother.

Happy birthday, happiness and peace!

Blessed as the East China Sea, longevity is better than Nanshan!

(A birthday present for mom)