Shao Kang, a Neo-Confucianism scholar in the Song Dynasty, wrote a five-line poem: "Twenty or thirty miles, four or five smoke villages, six or seven pavilions, and eighty or ninety flowers." The poet wisely put these monotonous numbers from one to ten into his poems, which seem to be understated and unremarkable, but in fact they are rich in color and plain in meaning. A few strokes outline a fresh and unique pastoral landscape.
Li, a litterateur in the Qing Dynasty, wrote a seven-character poem: "Adaqiao's second little Joe, three inches golden lotus, four inches waist, bought five or six packs of powder and dressed very beautifully." In just four lines, the figures of two charming women are uniquely portrayed.
Zheng Banqiao, one of the Eight Eccentrics of Yangzhou, wrote a poem about snow: "One piece, two pieces, three or four pieces, five pieces, six pieces, seven pieces, eight pieces, ninety pieces, a thousand pieces and countless pieces. If you fly into the reed flower, you will never see it. " The author is handy, listing numbers from small to large, which reminds people of the scene where snowflakes surge and reeds blend.
A famous poet in the Song Dynasty hated the misdeeds of corrupt officials under feudal rule, and wrote a doggerel called Ode to the Sparrow:
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, ninety. Eat all the royal millet, how much is the phoenix? " Think about all kinds of corrupt elements who take bribes today. This poem really hits the nail on the head.
Zhang Quan, an upright and upright official. His book No Feeding had a great influence at that time. The article said: "One is my honor; A penny is the essence of the people. One point wider, one more point for the people; Take a penny, I am not worth a penny. " The eight words "one" make Zhang Boxing's honest and clean image leap from the page.
There is an ancient poem circulating among the people: "Without a word, there is no light in your eyes. I don't eat three meals, and my limbs are weak. The five senses are incomplete, and the six relatives are helpless. I don't know anything, and I am awesome. Nine (long) can't sit still, and ten (real) feet are useless. " The language of the poem is simple, and the image of the bodhisattva is realistic, so it is vivid. It is also easy to remember, thanks to the ingenious integration of natural order in the poem: first, the cohesion of the upper and lower sentences will never be confused, and second, it is a little fresh. The modern poet Liu Shahe has a poem "Reunion": "A gust of wind knocks at the door, and a name misses the old; Some hesitate, some are stupid, some shake hands, and some are crazy. " This poem uses the word "one", which appears repeatedly and runs through the whole article, vividly depicting people who are reborn from the "four evils" and scrambling to tell each other about the scene of going to heaven.
There is also a new poem called Death of Worker Bees: "Worker bees only have a pair of little wings, but they dare to chase the high-speed streamer. Because to brew one kilogram of honey, it takes1100,000 flowers to fly 450,000 kilometers. And its short life can only see the sun for twenty days. " A series of characters are cleverly put into poetry, and the image of an entrepreneur who is selfless, self-sacrificing, hard-working and benefiting mankind is deeply moved.
In ancient times, it was not uncommon for some emperors, princes and poets to write some game words in the natural order of one to ten after meals.
It is said that Emperor Qianlong of the Qing Dynasty once wrote a riddle poem: "Who is Tiannu?" I hate Wang Lang for no reason. If I want to stop, I will hold my tongue. Friendship is not bad. It's hard to say an innocent word when dyeing soap. Obviously, a pair of good mandarin ducks were cut off by a knife and exhausted. Come to think of it, the mouth and heart are fake. "It is even more wonderful to skillfully combine the answers from ten numbers from one to ten in each poem.
A day away from lovesickness in two places is like a day away from Sanqiu. Looking for Liu Shili Pavilion at nine o'clock hurts worldly desires.
It is said that Emperor Qianlong of the Qing Dynasty visited Jiangnan and occasionally saw fishing boats on the river. There was a fisherman fishing in a boat, which was very poetic, so he asked Ji Xiaolan, a college student accompanying him, to write a poem with the word "one". After thinking about it, Ji Lue blurted out: a sail, a paddle, a fisherman, a fisherman and a hook. A bow and a smile, a bright moon and an autumn. The four poems not only use the word "one", but also describe a peaceful and pleasant picture of river boats and fishing, which won the appreciation of Qianlong.
It can blow off the golden leaves in autumn and bloom beautiful flowers in spring. Thousands of feet crossed the river and entered the bamboo. Tang Liqiao's Wind
"Two orioles sing green willows, egrets sky-high." Outside my window is the snowy Western Hills. My door often says "goodbye" to eastbound ships.
At first glance, it is two or three miles away, and mist hangs over four or five families. Pavilion 67, 89 bloom. Pass down as a song poem
The most wonderful and touching thing about digital poetry is Zhuo Wenjun, the wife of Sima Xiangru, a great writer in the Western Han Dynasty. It is said that Sima Xiangru left Wen Jun to become a senior official, and his feelings with Wen Jun faded. On one occasion, he wrote a letter to Wen Jun, which contained nothing but "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, hundred, thousand and ten thousand".
When Wen Jun saw this letter, he realized a similar intention and wrote a poem with these thirteen numbers. The poem is written like this: after a farewell, we miss each other. Let's say March or April, who knows five or six years. The lyre has no intention to play, and the eight-character book can't be passed down. The nine-ring chain has never been interrupted, and the Shili Pavilion is in urgent need. I can't understand it, I can't understand it, I can only blame Lang. A thousand words can't be finished, and you are bored. Chongyang climbs to see the lonely geese, and the full moon in August is not round. In July and a half, I burned incense and held candles to ask the sky. In June, I was chilling. Pomegranate in May is like fire, but it is watered by cold rain. April loquat is not yellow, and I want to be confused in front of the mirror. In a hurry, the peach blossoms turn with the water in March; Falling and falling, the kite line was broken in February. Hey, Lang Lang, I really hope that you are a woman and I am a man in the next life.