A small flower modern poem

No matter in study, work or life, when it comes to poetry, everyone must be familiar. Poetry is full of the author's thoughts and feelings and rich imagination. Then what kind of poem is a good poem? The following is a modern poem of a small flower I collected, which is for reference only and I hope it will help you.

A small flower modern poem

A flower

Pray in the pallor of the cold wind

A monologue without a dream of welcoming the Spring Festival

No midsummer night thoughts.

Just waiting to be small, waiting to shrink.

Blooming with loneliness and resentment

The heart of heaven and earth is independent of the world.

A silent little flower

In the silent suspension, drink enough.

Fragments discarded by Huangyan

Shake off, frost, cry.

Dry tears fall with the wind.

From the wind shadow, there was a sob in the grave.

Wandering in unintentional thoughts

A sad little flower

Distance from the rose

Far away, only two pairs of eyes are left.

You can't see the separation of stems and leaves in the old year.

Ling danced with the breeze.

It's all ruins, broken walls

Tattoos on the body, incense burning around the city

Leaving black and white frost peaks and empty valleys

An ancient little flower

Still bending over the long-lost red wind.

Withered verse, withered epigraph

Just hanging in the cold snuggle

The Milky Way, which has been separated for a long time, is lonely and depressed.

Monotonous and colorless night rain

Apes whistling at the foot of the mountain. Sunny days in my heart

Give yourself an instant fragrance and promise yourself secretly.

A little flower full of spring.

There are many small flowers around.

A sunny day, the end of the month. Enthusiastic dance

Cliff karma to dispel the cold wind

Charm and fragrance, floating out a dream.

Covered with a land of homesickness

It's just that the years are gone and the spring is blooming.

It's not that flower anymore.

Extended data

1, a little flower-Pushkin

I saw a forgotten little flower in a book.

It has dried up and lost its fragrance;

At this time,

My mind is full of a strange fantasy:

Where does it go? What time? What spring is it?

Did you drive for a long time? Who took it off,

Is it a stranger's hand or a familiar hand?

Why put it here again?

To commemorate this warm meeting,

Or for destiny takes a hand's parting,

Or to commemorate the lonely walk?

In the secluded place of the field, in the shadow of the forest?

He's alive. Is she alive?

Where is the corner where they live now?

Or they're all withered,

Like this unknown little flower?

2. A little flower-Turgenev

Did you-in the dark Woods,

Among the grass in spring,

Found an ordinary simple flower?

At that time, you were alone and lived in a distant foreign land. )

It's waiting for you on the bare grass,

Driving alone ...

For you, it keeps its pure fragrance,

That's its original fragrance.

So you took off the swaying stems,

Hold it in your careful hands,

With a slow smile,

Put this little flower you destroyed in your buttonhole.

Then you walk along the dusty road;

Around-the whole field was burnt,

A heat wave fell from the sky,

And your little flower has withered and damaged.

It grows in a quiet shadow,

It grows in the morning rain,

It was suffocated by hot dust,

It was burned by the midday sun.

What should I do? Regret is futile!

You know, it was created into this world,

Just to be close to your heart,

Live only for that moment.