1. Poems about iris
Iris (Xi Murong)
Iris
-----Please keep it Silence, never answer me again
I must leave this soft and clear scene eventually
A spring day with a slightly moist wind
The surrounding light is meticulous and painstakingly < /p>
Presenting the world of all life processes
Try to expand even the smallest joy
Savor the peaceful happiness with concentration
Extend it as much as possible
The mysterious distance from the starting point to the end point is still unmeasurable
(This boundless loneliness, this necessary burden) < /p>
All the memories are not far away from me
Just in the silent forest reflected by the moss marks we once walked together
But there is something uncertain Even if I find the right words
I can no longer control my mood
In the end, I am to you
just like the deep purple iris is to this Spring
In the end, we still have to abandon each other
(At this moment, this time that is more beautiful than the extreme will eventually become extinct)
Reference: Xi Murong's Poetry Collection 2. Description Poems about iris
Irises are not necessarily flowers, they only grow towards the stone city.
Sincerely, the king’s eyes have feelings for everything he sees.
How I wished I could meet you
But I couldn’t
On such a desolate and silent sandbank
When the weather turned sunny< /p>
When the wind turns colder
All thoughts and movements gradually become slow
What kind of dusk will it be
And now Iris flowers are still blooming randomly
Here and there they are growing everywhere
Bravely showing her passion and her little heart to the world around her
>
From pure white to blue and purple
It seems to be telling the story that I have longed for all my life
Please let the soul of the flower die before it leaves the branch
Let me stay temporarily
The transition of time from love to violence
The difference between this transition is extremely subtle
It is also extremely sharp
Especially me once
How I wished I could meet you 3. Poems about iris flowers
A touch of iris flowers/The blue of October is light, a An iris bloomed. Gently, exuding fresh fragrance. In the colorful summer, you smiled, not the charming sneer of the roses beside you, nor the generous beauty of the peonies. Your smile is bright and simple, like the sunny smile of a child in June. In harmony, the love for summer and the expectation for summer. However, in this season of pink and plum blossoms, only the shadow of a butterfly cares about the flowers and grass around you, but it does not pick up the mellow honey on your body; the soft moonlight caresses the petals of the flowers beside you, but it only touches you. Left alone in the lonely night. On a cold and desolate morning, the round dewdrops, with a hint of weariness, dripped on your petite petals, turning into crystal and lonely tears. Iris, you also long for your own butterfly and the moon that touches your flowers. But, on that morning of tears, the cool breeze brought the desolate autumn, and the flowers fell, but I couldn't bear to see you withered, withered, and painfully buried in the autumn soil. If I were a butterfly, I would cruelly pluck you off and protect your bright smile forever; if I were the moon, I would burn you decisively and take away your pure fragrance, together with that lonely love, deeply Seal it and spread it in the everlasting soft moonlight. Perhaps this is an eternal, selfish fantasy of mine.
Iris
1 In the night, in the wind, on the edge of the rain,
I found five iris flowers, and I called them lovely.
Like a woman who once lay beside them
then woke up, got up, and walked away, her hair lingering on their sweet tongues
memory.
I really want to rip these petals off with my teeth.
I really want to study these hairy selves,
their beauty and indifference. They
have been holding their breath for a lifetime
open, open.
2
We are not lovers, brothers or sisters,
Though we wander hand in hand through the halls
Trembling as thoughts and desires
Extinguish, and in this dream of life,
In this sleep life, we die awake-
Purple turns to blue, turns
p>
Black, black - all this
is what an iris prays for,
When she prays, her destination.
4. Poems about iris
Light Iris Text / The blue of October is light, and an iris blooms.
Gently, exuding a fresh fragrance. In the colorful summer, you smiled, not the charming sneer of the roses beside you, nor the generous beauty of the peonies.
Your smile is bright and simple, like the sunny smile of a child in June. In harmony, the love for summer and the expectation for summer.
However, in this season of pink and plum blossoms, only the shadow of a butterfly looks at the flowers and grass around you, but it does not pick up the mellow honey on your body; the soft moonlight caresses the petals beside you. The petal flower leaves you alone in the lonely night. On a cold and desolate morning, the round dewdrops, with a hint of weariness, dripped on your petite petals, turning into crystal and lonely tears.
Iris, you also long for your own butterfly and the moon that touches your flowers. But, on that morning of tears, the cool breeze brought the desolate autumn, and the flowers fell, but I couldn't bear to see you withered, withered, and painfully buried in the autumn soil.
If I were a butterfly, I would ruthlessly pluck you off and protect your bright smile forever; if I were a moon, I would decisively burn you and take away your pure fragrance, along with That lonely love is sealed deeply and spreads throughout the everlasting soft moonlight. Perhaps this is an eternal, selfish fantasy of mine.
Iris 1 At night, in the wind, on the edge of the rain, I found five iris flowers, and I called them lovely. Like the memory of a woman who, for a time, lay beside them for a while and then woke up, got up, and walked away, her hair lingering on their sweet tongues.
I really want to rip these petals off with my teeth. I really want to study these hairy selves, their beauty and indifference.
They have been holding their breath for a lifetime and open up. 2 We are not lovers, brothers or sisters, though we wander hand in hand through the halls trembling and stirring when thoughts and desires are extinguished, and in this dream of life, in this life of sleep, we die awake - purple turns to blue, turns to black , black - all this is what an iris prays for, when she prays for the destination. 5. Asking for some ancient essays on iris flowers
Don’t mislead others. Calamus and iris are not the same kind of flower. Calamus is much taller than iris, and its leaves are different. Moreover, calamus grows by the water. Their flowering periods are also different. Iris blooms in this season, that is, April to May, and calamus blooms in June.
Some people usually call some iris plants calamus. In fact, this is just a common name and is irregular. The real calamus is a plant of the Araceae family. The inflorescences are candle-shaped and yellow-brown. They bloom in summer and autumn. Perhaps because of the similarities in texture of their leaves, some iris plants like to grow near water, and there is also a plant that is very similar to iris called gladiolus (also known as "gladiolus"), which is a common fresh cut flower. ).
As for the ancient sayings about requirements, they are generally rare in ancient Chinese poetry. But there are more in Greek mythology. For example, iris means "rainbow" in Greek mythology. And although the iris originated in China, it is the national flower of France. And personally I think Brazilian iris or French iris are also beautiful.
Iris is used more often in modern literature. For example, Xi Murong, Shu Ting, and Baby Annie also like iris very much. Iris can be seen in many of her articles.
Iris
Xi Murong
——Please remain silent and never answer me again.
We must leave this soft and clear after all
The spring day with a slightly moist wind
The light around us is meticulous and painstakingly presented
The world that controls all life processes
Try to expand even the smallest joy
Try to extend the peaceful happiness that you savor
with concentration
< p> The maze-like distance from the starting point to the end point is still unmeasurable(This boundless loneliness, this necessary burden)
All The memory is not very far away from me
Just in the silent forest reflected in the moss marks we once walked together
But there is an uncertain mood even if it is
After finding the right words, I gradually lost control
In the end, I am with you
Just like the deep purple iris is to this spring
In the end, we still have to abandon each other
(And now this time of extreme beauty has finally come to an end) 6. This is a sentence in that word or poem
From beginning to end
Xia Xiaoqi
I drink pure water overnight
I listen to soothing jazz
Touching the dusty photos Vinyl records.
I watch heavy literary films
I look for the Big Dipper in the night sky
You sing in my heart, your song is rippling.
I use lavender-scented men's CK perfume
I wear bright shirts
In the dark, I am a bad clown, making everyone laugh.
I write strange words
I sing songs that are out of tune,
At night, my tears quietly drop and flow into my heart.
I laugh at those walking people,
I hate those despicable people
You are scarier than monsters and uglier than gluttons.
I smoke cheap cigarettes
I use a beat-up phone.
I dial your number over and over again, but you hang up again and again.
I laughed again and again, and I cried again and again. The tears flowed dry and the cigarette was extinguished. Hugging your trembling body. You say, let go. They are watching.
I'm watching it too. I saw you messing around with those men. I see you hugging them.
I watched you walk into the hotel with them and fall into their arms.
You call me a liar.
I secretly cursed you for being a bitch.
I don’t like canned pineapples,
You are not Wong Kar-Wai either.
I hate the montage of you by my side.
We can only smile at each other.
Today I raised flowers, the ones in blue pots are cacti, and the ones in red pots are crape myrtles.
For whom do the flowers bloom? Why do you love them?
The so-called beauty is empty.
When the iris flowers bloom, I know that you picked them for you.