Modern night poems

1. A modern poem about night 16: Who is the night when the night covers the earth, looking for it alone; So persistent. Is a star, looking for opportunities; Falling myself, leaving a beautiful curve in the sky. Wish yourself good night. I couldn't sleep for a while because I couldn't hear the sound of the night. If you ask me what the sound of the night is, I can't describe it, or I say that the sound of the night is a kind of tranquility. Do you think there is something wrong with me? But what I want to tell you is: this may be true. Have you ever tried talking to yourself? This is often a way for us to communicate at night. You can tell your dissatisfaction and discuss some of your ideas. I like to blow on the roof every night, and I am used to lying on the mat. I look up at the stars. I like the night wind in summer very much. It's warm and cool. I am always used to thinking actively at night, and there is always a feeling of slowly releasing in a quiet night. I am intoxicated with this feeling, sometimes people are simple. The night wind is bad. But what you have is not what you get. The night is so beautiful, I wish myself and you good night every night. The night is silent, and the night sky and the moon are like pity for the flute of Qingjiang River, lingering with the wind, bringing more affection and intermittent, haha, I wrote it in my early years. There is also: I miss the lonely night in the forest near Yunxi, and I am still weaving night stars. Monroe's center of gravity is wet and cold, and sadness is more like the moon. Who sighs that there is no water in the east village, and the moonlight sneaks into the country and falls asleep? Grasshoppers kept singing and drifted around in their dreams with the cool breeze. As for the wind, willow leaves fluttered in the dim moonlight, and occasionally one or two candlelight flickered, reflecting distant dreams, but propping up a thin body. If you like candlelight, you can't sleep alone, or it doesn't matter if you have some light. The night before Haizi serenade, we sat quietly. Our knees are like wood, and we pricked up our ears. This is our own plain, and now I am the only one whose knees are like wood, and I am the only one who pricks up my ears. Only I can hear the water in the plain and the water in the poem. On this rainy night, I am the only one who writes poems for you. This is our plain like water. This is our same night.

Give a modern poem about night and a modern poem about rainy night.

-Fallen flowers

someone says that

Sometimes waiting is not about waiting for that person to show up.

but

Wait, if it wasn't for waiting for that man to show up

That's why

It rained last night.

I really like rainy days.

If possible, on a night like that.

Have you by my side

Walk slowly in the rain

An umbrella can't cover the oblique rain.

Your shoulders may be wet by more than half.

I reached for the raindrops outside the umbrella.

Many gather in your palm.

But it flowed down again.

These raindrops in the sky are all formed by evaporation and rising on the ground.

Life in water is so simple.

Flowing to the bottom

Then wait for the sun to turn itself into steam.

Floating in the air

Meet the suitable temperature of this land.

Just fly down completely

Ground gluing

Wait for the second evaporation.

Waiting is a person's waiting

Searching is a person's searching.

These days,

I gradually understand.

Waiting is on a rainy night.

Hold an umbrella.

Walking on water with a person

And then maybe not tell her.

In fact, because of search.

I have been waiting for her for a long time.

Or pull her behind the wind

Standing alone in front of the wind

Even if you don't say anything

But those two hands

But never separated again.

I really want to stand or walk.

Watching the rain and the road at night

Are you cold when it rains heavily?

Trying to find is lonely and open.

The life span of leaves blown by cool breeze may be short.

So I always thought

On a breezy and drizzling night

We walked together.

Closed night

Sing me another song.

Give me another sad and beautiful smile.

The moon has sunk.

Dewdrops waited with small eyes open.

When you come back in soft and wet gold shoes.

The Gui is on their bottom eyes-

Like a delicate butterfly.

Walking on the flower branch that just cried.

Closed night-

This is the indifference of the world.

Will never be projected.

Sit next to me, next to me.

Come closer. Come closer.

Let me see if your eyes are the same as last night.

Full of tenderness, but slightly sad;

Let me hear your whisper again.

Said you were my father's youngest and most charming daughter.

At the age of fifteen ...

What an absurd and wonderful meeting!

You like this, I like this.

Who opened this impossible iron gate?

Thank you for the cold wind, it blows backwards.

A wandering Lin Ying has come to make trouble again.

"Drop your blood on my navel!

If this life is predestined: one hundred days in my grave.

There should be two birds singing in the emerald tree. "

And I should open the tomb door in time, western Western jackdaw color.

You have been imprisoned for nineteen years;

Then, wrapped in a brocade mattress,

Blow with heart and mouth;

Watching you in my arms.

The star's eyes gradually opened and his temples were red. ...

The most talked about is to add uneven short boards!

Even if there are twice the sand-colored stones of the Ganges.

Sit next to me, next to me.

Come closer. Come closer.

Don't frown

I am most afraid of seeing you cover your face with sleeves and cry behind your back.

In front of the window where the lights and bananas are swaying.

Closed night-

This is the indifference of the world.

Will never be projected.

Sing me another song.

Give me another sad and beautiful smile.

When chickens don't crow, dogs don't crow.

Look at your back on the poplar.

Ran Ran disappeared into the weeds.

Don't look back! Naturally, tomorrow I will kneel down and beg the old man.

Kneel down until he gives me the petal that died for love.

Note: Zhou Mengdie's poem The Closed Night was originally named.

Chain, Chain is one of Strange Tales from a Lonely Studio.

A female ghost who died at the age of seventeen has the same name as Yang.

Well, after all kinds of resurrection.

3. Modern poems describe night scenes as still nights.

Take off your clothes.

Feel free to stroll in the scenery around the house.

Let the wind gently brush your long hair.

Just walking.

I like picking a green leaf.

Let the breath of life die at your fingertips.

The heat of the sun

Be nourished by rain

There is hope for the wind.

Like enjoying the ups and downs of the plot.

Just thinking, thinking

Hope to lie on the grass

Smell the fragrance of the earth

Absorb the aura of the earth

Purify a tired mind

Let loneliness travel far.

Clear your mind.

Just laugh, laugh.

Like to recall the childlike interest of childhood.

Fly like a carefree bird

My father led my mother and smiled like an angel.

Planting flowers and picking beans in front of and behind the house

walk through a forest

Run across the field

Just love, love.

What I can't go back is just the vicissitudes of time.

I can't forget happiness and sadness.

Destined to go

Think seriously

Remember to smile.

Continue to love

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I wrote it myself and loved it. Let me share it with you.

4. Write a modern night poem, Haizi Serenade.

We used to sit quietly at night.

Our knees are like wood.

We pricked our ears.

We can hear the sound of water and poetry on the plain.

This is our own plain, night and poetry.

Now I'm the only one left.

Only my knees are like wood.

Only I pricked up my ears.

Only I can hear the sound of water on the plain.

Water in poetry

On this rainy night

Now I'm the only one left.

Write poetry for you.

This is our common plains and waters.

This is our night and poetry.

Who said Haizi?

I'm leaving. I need to look around.

We used to sit here.

5. A modern poem about the night scene: the air market

Guo Moruo

The street lights in the distance are very clear.

There seem to be countless stars shining.

Stars in the sky. Now,

It seems that countless street lamps are on.

I think that empty sky,

There must be a beautiful market.

Some items on display in the market,

It must be a rare thing in the world.

You see, the shallow Tianhe,

Certainly not very broad.

Cowherd and Weaver Girl across the river,

I'm sure I can ride a cow.

I think now,

You must walk in Tianjie.

If you don't believe me, please look at that meteor.

Even if they walk with lanterns.