Modern Poetry: Night

Modern poetry: night 1, the earth hit a rock and sank.

They were all silent.

Only I opened my mouth and shouted

But I tasted the bitterness of the night

You don't have to talk about loneliness

Loneliness ups and downs in setbacks

The road to lonely life

Feel lonely at a certain time

Freeze all

Loneliness needs to be covered.

Loneliness, maybe you know.

Cheer and care for each other alone

lonely

Only belongs to loneliness.

The night sky is clear after the rain.

There are a few lonely stars

There are several lonely souls.

He is not content with being humble.

Burning in the sky

Silent fall

The moon is dreaming in the clouds.

Meet Yang in my dream.

She believes that the world will be bright

No more shadows

They all have the same dream.

One of them has turned to ashes.

One is still hanging in the sky

Modern Poetry: Two Golden Chains in the Night

Accidental fall became a legend.

A miserable love that has been painful for thousands of years.

Deduct into a song under the wings of magpie birds

The annual infatuation gaze.

Let surging thoughts rush into a river.

Pick a warmth and plant a rainbow.

Muttering in the auspicious light of Tanabata is like a dream.

except that

Today's Taurus has sounded the horn.

Stay on the road to heaven

And Cowherd's delusion has been burned to death.

there is a song

As soon as the curtain was opened, it was doomed.

Have a feeling

Burn your heart and dry your tears before you know it's wrong.

I don't know

Tonight's Cowherd and Weaver Girl

Or legend?

The clock struck midnight.

The melancholy moonlight fell under the grape trellis.

This is an angel's sorrow.

Pick a heart-shaped flower at will.

Use acacia beans

One by one, one by one.

After next autumn.

Modern Poetry: Night 3 Fantasy Stepping on Loneliness

from a distance

Acacia under the starlight

Spin in the still night

Write a poem from a past event.

Written on February 14.

It began to rain lightly.

The sky is full of new ideas of acacia.

Release at cold midpoint

The warmth of early spring drove away the cold.

Miss flies with temperature.

Draw a picture holding hands.

Stick to the door of your heart

One word

Enough to make spring blossom in my heart.

The cold current occupied the sky.

Romantic rain is coming.

Blurred light

Who is walking arm in arm?

Footprints fell on the newly-built square.

Air wetting

Soften the reverie at night

Another February 14.

Same but not similar.

Modern Poetry: Night 4 is an iron wheel that rolls forward by itself.

That solid iron wheel

Perhaps it is full of homesickness and becomes soft.

Can't break the neon at night.

Colorful dragons are running on the bridge.

Childbirth, the quiet beauty of Xiangjiang River.

Fishing boats, lights and moonlight are flashing.

Description, exquisite bookmark

Closer to home, closer to warmth.

The scenery behind them is turning around inadvertently.

Stay away from rusty assembly lines, sweaty rental houses, and

rich and colourful night life

I kept silent in the sound of the tracks.

Holding a handful of loneliness casually,

The pain in my heart

Once lost and vacant eyes

Until the end of the night

Hometown at this time

But some people will take out all their troubles.

Listen to the knock at the door at night.

I believe

One day, parting and homesickness.

Will become a totem.

Modern Poetry: Night 5 The night penetrated my black pupil,

My mind can't touch the sense of strength and realism.

Emotion loses its fulcrum here,

The curled-up body looked at the distant stars in the night sky outside the window in the dark corner.

Feelings are fragile, and we can only rely on the ink flowing from the end of the pen lying on the desk.

Ink flows and meets into poetry,

Every word of the poem is dedicated to the lingering tenderness flowing in my blood.

You heard sadness and loneliness in the poem,

Life will receive light and heat from the sun.

It's a pity that you can't hear my poem. I want to sing it to you.

A poet without music is my inescapable fate.

This life is a poet without music.

It's a pity that my poem is a tune without songs.

Singing and whispering came from the starry sky,

The falling meteor at night is the colorful cloud I pray for you.

I waited,

Wait,

Waiting for the legend of colorful clouds chasing the moon.

Listen to the rain.

A city is crying, a city is crying. People in the city are listening to the rain, and people outside the city are telling stories that have been dusty for a long time but have never forgotten. The people in the story have you and me, but they are not as young as they were then. They can't talk about Top Gun with passion. They looked at each other piously and deadpan, watching the rain fall and listening to the sound of the rain silently through their lives.

My way

Today has changed,

Time doesn't flow in me.

The gentle sea floated to the first lowest point, which was the low tide of my life.

I am a body crawling in the dark abyss,

I can't find the direction in the strange circle of self and id.

My soul fell under the shrine and crawled on the dark ground to find my way.

I am a body crawling in the dark abyss,

Fog enveloped the night sky of this southern city;

The aperture of my eyes can no longer feel the temperature of night arrival,

I don't know how long I will enjoy that lonely moment.

Listen to the wind

Vows in the wind lie on the grave of youth,

The rain soaked the dust in the grave.

Disrupted the makeup of the oath and achieved the tomb.

Listen, that voice;

Ignorance and neglect, if there is nothing,

The oath of youth lies under the tombstone, breathing.

Listen, someone is crying,

Cry out the vows of youth, cry out the monuments and graves in the wind.

Listen, it is the wind!

The wind of the northern rocks.

If not, if.

If time can stay,

If life can stand still;

Maybe, I won't be here.

If a scholar has no dreams,

If there are no colorful clouds in the sky;

Maybe, I won't be here.

If time can pass,

If youth can fly;

Maybe, I won't be here.

If you don't look haggard,

If I have no attachment to the fleeting time;

Maybe, I won't be here.

If you can come into my world,

If I hadn't stopped on your shoulder;

Maybe I wouldn't be here,

If not if!

I'll be there?

Modern Poetry: Starry Night 6

Sitting at a desk is still homesick.

Think about my reasons

Don't let your heart have any worries.

Snowflakes at midnight

Broke through the dark purple night

Look through the candle window

I want to know when you can come back

The wind carries his dreams.

Sneaked out of the window quietly

Fell happily on my shoulder

Soothe my restless heart

Finally pushed open the door that had been silent for a long time.

Walking on this snowy night

Let the thorns cool the destroyer Snow Wind.

Eliminate worries.

Every step left a deep impression.

If the heavy snow can't calm him down

But as long as there is the warmth of the sun

He will become a clear spring and go deep into the earth.

Modern Poetry: When you get used to a certain habit at night.

One day this habit suddenly disappeared.

What kind of feeling will it be in your heart?

Are you upset?

At night, it is always so easy to be nostalgic.

I thought about all kinds of things and found that the night was so quiet.

On a quiet night, my heart is so uneasy.

It seems that this dark night is singing a one-man show that belongs only to me.

Complex plot, helplessness, emptiness, expectation,

Am I sentimental, or is it all true?

I don't understand and I don't want to understand.

Why give yourself so much anxiety?

Slowly, I don't want to understand, but I really don't understand.

The heart began to be empty, without thoughts and feelings.

Let it be.

I contacted a friend from a long time ago last night.

After talking for a long time, he said, you have changed.

Ask yourself over and over again, how have I changed?

Is it mature, or is it decadent with reality?

It feels like a tangled thread ―― total confusion and confusion.

A reluctant answer in disguise: I haven't changed, I just look more like a woman than before.

Then there was a burst of laughter.

I wonder how many stories are hidden behind the punch line.

Who knows whether you are happy or sad?

At least I appreciate it.

I am grateful to those who raised me.

I thank those who have helped me.

That's enough.

Modern Poetry: Night 8 This winter, I waited for the first snow.

Beautiful snowflakes are in full bloom, my thoughts,

Like smoke from a farmhouse,

Wandering in this snowy night.

Over the thorny grass,

Looking for your last breath,

The rest of the fragrance will miss you forever,

So, I know the taste of heartache.

You said this life will never end, who will forget,

I am in the corner of the world,

I hope you will come back to see the snowflakes in full bloom this season.

In this way, I am no longer lonely and confused.

I've been to places you once dreamed of,

I see the blue ocean like the melancholy in your eyes,

I heard the cold wind still shouting,

The tramp hasn't come back yet.

You said it was too long, forever.

I sigh that the breeze and the bright moon are too far apart, and the sky is high and the road is far away.

If you want to drift,

Please remember, there is a person here all the time.

I am not a lonely tree,

It's just snow covering me, not cold.

You took the whole world,

You left me.

This snow,

Fall into my heart,

Wet my mind,

Break my heart.

Modern Poetry: Night 9 Tonight, the moon enters the jade pot.

The ink is picturesque.

I set a fire.

Arouse a little shyness

Whether it's boiled acacia.

Or a glass of wine

I'll be in a quiet place on your other side.

When you calm down.

* *

Tonight, the flowers are charming.

Ink invades bones.

I set a fire.

Cook a love story

Whether it is boiling or boiling, it is crazy and warm.

Or Leng Xiang's bones?

I will sit in a lonely city.

Maintain a noble Leng Yan.

When you get warmer.

* *

Tonight, the night is like water.

Ink shadow floating

I set a fire.

Boil a pool of spring water

Whether it is boiling or rippling.

Or the bottom of the lake is calm

I will stand in Mengkou.

Berthing in a bay for a long time will fill your dreams with air.

When you fall,

Give you a quiet night.

* *

Tonight, deeper sleep

I sit in charming ink, waiting for you to be charming.

Your sly eyes crossed the bank.

Have you ever lurked in the dark night and watched the fireworks released from my brow bone?

* *

I saved a pot of meditation tonight.

Alone with time

Holding an ink pen in his hand

Determined to stick to it

Immerse in 3 thousand and write down all my feelings for you.

Modern Poetry: At night 10, the gardenia bloomed in front of the window, thanks.

I can't smell the familiar fragrance.

Fortunately, there are small orange buds.

Trying to blossom.

Hold up the gentleness of late summer.

The season of early autumn

The temperature is still good.

Just a little more nostalgic.

I live in this dark night.

Tidy up clothes in that season.

Every piece

It's all a paragraph

A clueless memory

have only

Let your thoughts flow like water.

Overturning in the humid air tonight

The drizzle is like a song

With the sleepless night tonight

Really want to

Put this packed dress

With this melancholy sadness

Stuff into a piece of furniture

In the locked closet

Throw away the key at will

Backing; backup

I'll pack my own bags.

Go to the distant place I yearn for at once.

Think more.

In this tourist season.

test

The one in memory

I can't forget it for a long time

Gardenia-flavored

That autumn