Bright modern poetry

How brittle should modern poetry 1 be?

Is so fragile.

cullet

Can't curse gravity

Because there is a so-called pause next to it.

No matter how high the iron plate passes through the parabola.

Landing is not beautiful, but it can be extremely loud.

The plastic board outside the venue is unwilling to be lonely.

Lost foam particles can be left in front of the stage smartly.

How brittle is it?

How broken was it?

People are so fragile after all.

Or am I too fragile?

Pick up my pieces.

Support fragile countertops.

Continue to fall freely

Keep crushing yourself.

I'm too fragile.

Or is the surface really sharp?

In short, there is one side.

And dislike each other's sloppy clothes

What is even more disgusting is the saliva on that mouth.

Curing takes time.

Or do you expect to be different?

Let me land beautifully.

And the body can stand up.

Crisp, crisp, crisp

Rest, rest, rest.

In fact, why care so much?

Whoever is brittle is broken.

Appreciate from the best angle

Listen with your nearest ear.

That scene

That voice

Gorgeous and loud crushing

Crispy modern poetry 2 whenever the monsoon comes

Sang Mei, Bao Xia, Morak.

These uninvited guests with nice names

Like a fox turned into a beautiful woman.

Label your eyes with charm.

Do all the tricks

Watching the land be abused

Hometown people stick to their homeland.

But it's irresistible

When Xie Gong sent his feelings to the mountains and rivers, his poetry was cool.

Wonderland is admired by later generations.

Master Xuanjue had an epiphany, and it was no big deal after he realized it.

The sound of "Proverbs Song" is famous for Tommy Peak.

I met friends outside in my dream, and I am also a Zen.

Yongjia deserves wandering attachment day and night.

Menghui time

The pace of modernization goes hand in hand.

The green leaves have long been eclipsed.

A clean stream, fresh wind

The joy of running barefoot on the ridge of the field

Those childhood memories.

Gradually abandoned by time.

Stay in the land of vicissitudes of life that is gradually shrinking.

My old friend.

Countdown the years that have passed.

There is a pond in the middle of the village.

There is also a mulberry field in the sand.

By the Oujiang River, there are large bamboo forests.

It was midsummer.

The river is full of people who catch fish, touch clams and swim.

……

Quietly approach my hometown.

I heard.

A stream covered with thick slate.

Hiding in the shadows and crying secretly.

Knock on the familiar door

An old house with moss at its feet

Weeds occupied the courtyard wall.

However, the old well at the end of the village is still there.

Reveal the last sweetness

Nourish the soul