What is time poetry?

Dedicator: Ding Yimou, come on, young friends, come on, glorious Communist Youth League members, with our boiling blood, lit the torch handed down by the129th Communist Youth League members, and watched the bright red flag and burning flame. The past129th Communist Youth League members will remain in our hearts forever. Forty-seven years have been rough and hard, long and short. Those eventful years will always be our poems. The brilliant 129, your horn shocked Chixian County in China, your torch dispelled the darkness, and your spirit brought you the sunrise, which made you intoxicated and enjoyed the time. The martyr's last wish has not been finally realized. The ancestors' journey has not yet reached the end. Striving friends and partners have achieved * * * materialism-we sincerely swear that * * * socialism will be realized-and our unshakable belief is: dress up for a more gorgeous spring, spread the wings of youth, fly freely in the vast blue sky, let go of the throat of youth, and present carols to our dear motherland. Striving friends and partners, hold high the first120. Raise the baton of the129th session, March along the road of129th, and reach a glorious adulthood-in commemoration of the 66th anniversary of the December 29th Movement: Roark, Wolf, the wind of history has turned over the 66th calendar. That chilly day began to vividly explain in my eyes that snowflakes are no longer white. In that cold winter, there was only a cry like an iron horse, which stripped off the heavy coat of this ancient country and revealed a scarred body. A drop of blood splashed on my forehead, leaving a deep mark. Time whizzes by like the north wind. That day has turned yellow and passed, but can the shoulders of reality bear those days that once boiled? Still standing on the back of the century, silently staring at the sun outside the window, gently stroking the earth, just don't know whether that day stands in its memory forever like a sculpture. 1935, Wild Chrysanthemum in China Author: Money is a thick historical volume, which spread in the cold winter night to the winter sixty years ago. On this night, there is always a tidal roar and a burning flame. 12 square meter house temperature suddenly rises. A pair of eyes are sweating from their pores, and the fragrance of the earth is very strong. Where are you before Jiazi's fate? I knocked on the loess door and saw six thousand wild chrysanthemums in full bloom on a withered and wrinkled leaf. A group of latosolic red people listed wild chrysanthemums in 1935. You hold your head high to the sun, calling for a broken cold star. You hugged a hundred wounds, bleeding. At the same time, the land under your feet is held in your hand. The Yellow River and the Yangtze River will divert 1935 wild chrysanthemum. Your thin roots cling to the earth. You knocked the doorbell of peace on the brick of xinhua gate with your hand. The earth cracked and the maw was swallowed up. Thirty voices of peace were trapped in the cage outside the cage all winter, and there were ebbs and flows every day, from Beiping and Nanjing to Wuhan and Guangzhou ... The whole land of China was awakened, all the nights were lit, and the kind head was awakened. In the winter of China 1935, the blood is boiling, like the blooming of wild chrysanthemums on the earth. How can you imagine that the enlightened rooster landed on the dictator's plate, and how can the Yellow River and the Yangtze River sever ties with the wild chrysanthemums? 1935 Wild Chrysanthemum, you are running around and telling me that maybe we are born from the same root, live in the same home and drink a river in the space of lips and teeth. 1935 how to burn wild chrysanthemums with gunfire? You are holding a faint fragrance of flowers and wearing plain and beautiful clothes. /kloc-in the winter of 0/935, you went to the fire and asked the sun about the people crossing the sea. You tried to trade your life for Yang's life. Breathe in the light, the stars run in the air and lie in Dharma. How peaceful and smooth are these days? Why did you cheat and bury the pigeon under the wheel? The bayonet is held high above your head at night. 1935' s 6000 wild chrysanthemums are clean and beautiful. At the same time, they burn and burn red. 1935 China heats up. 1935 every flame in China. With anger, every flame is full of humiliation, and the flame has enveloped the earth and the ravaged people all over the world. Today, I sit quietly in front of history, watching the beautiful wild chrysanthemums, wet blood and faint fragrance flowing in my eyes in the dry land of China in the winter of 1935, talking and singing-commemorating the December 19th Movement: the moon in Zhu Wenyan became a sickle for mowing grass, hanging in the night sky, and the long hair of the stars touched the rivers. Whose hand slaps the river and waves on my chest? Whose hand lit the bonfire in my eyes all night. I listened attentively to the sound of horseshoe watch, beating my fragile heart again and again. No one can forget that it penetrated the thick upper layer and a day of history. Whether in blood shed or blood shed, the boiling voices of young people sang the most touching chapter and the horizon of China in the patriotic student movement of China people. People on the line are listening to farewell weapons in the chanting era. I shed tears, breathed incense, fixed my true feelings at the peak of the high-pitched world, approached the pioneers step by step, and gradually condensed the green and tender hands I saw holding the torch of happiness into a warm heart. I saw a string of tears shining in his clear eyes. He said, the world is the wind for you and me. How to raise it tonight? Let me set foot on the moon and dance in countless fields ... a towering tree, the eagle wing of Hengtai and the distant sword of Zhejiang are a monument, burning like blood and freezing thousands of miles. Who sang "Qinyuanchun"? Snow "... oh, my hardworking brothers and sisters are pulling the wheel of life, and the Cycas buried in my heart has blossomed the most brilliant 56 flowers." Let all my dreams stop on your generous shoulders, and let the river of my thoughts flow into your fiery blood vessels continuously, so I have a surging rush. Teng's affection and love are flying wave by wave, flying wave by wave, flying wave by wave, flying on the edge of life ... 2. Walking into poetry, the flute of spirit is singing the fall of faith, like a lark singing in the rainy season. In the fall and struggle of mankind, under the pressure of time, I held the candle of life tightly, touched the heroic atmosphere in my heart and sang a little eulogy. I just want to dip in the pride of youth and fly over my humble emblem. My pain guards peace, calmness and peace, even if it is there. In the coldest season, I also danced the warmest notes barefoot, smiling and praying. I will hold trembling hope with both hands and turn the Millennium storm into stars. The bluebird has flown away from human childhood with the most beautiful gesture, but my road has not left my yellow-skinned home. Please give me new things and staring eyes. Please give me listening ears and keen thinking to rebuild my weak chest. I flapped my wings Song theory wants to dissolve into a bright star embedded in a blue planet-in memory of December 9th Author: The scene of Agropyron cristatum sixty-four years ago is vivid, and a disaster-stricken country is in danger. The description of the struggle of internal troubles and foreign invasion is so pale, and the suffering of weak beans is so short and gentle in Peiping. Finally, a long-standing internal cry against autonomy and civil war in North China broke out, and the roar of crossing time and space unanimously exploded like thunder on1February 9. Anger spread like a forest, sweeping the streets of China. The land baked by blood and fire has lost its maternal tenderness in North China. A child kidnapped in the war cried and screamed in despair. Mom, I don't want to leave you. This cry shocked the hearts of thousands of people in Qian Qian, China. This cry accused the country of all kinds of ugly crimes. The soldiers who defend the country are killing their brothers and sisters heroically, while the guns that should be aimed at the enemy are devouring their hometown unscrupulously. This is the scene 64 years ago. This is the fuse of the December 9th Movement. The descendants of China people who were educated in the war, at the moment of national disaster and national peril, rushed to appeal to people who didn't want to lose their homes. Get up, get up, shout out the storm inside us and publicize our idea of resisting Japan and saving the country. People who don't want to be conquered, get up and dedicate our youth to the motherland and our lives to our mothers. In order to drive out the Japanese invaders, defend our sacred land, and defend the unyielding dignity of the Chinese mother, our heads can be broken, our bodies can be destroyed, and our lives can rest in peace in China. As long as there is smoke, there will be brave soil in China, as long as there is danger. China has backbone. As long as there are young people, there is hope. Today, we bid farewell to war and suffering. What we can't say goodbye to is every word of blood and fire in history. What we can't say goodbye to is every hero in the December 9th Movement. Today, we use hymns to remember the history of blood and tears writing, carry forward the spirit created on December 9, and link the past with the future. Look at my powerful China today. Turning to the sixty-seventh page of heavy history, I should still remember days of our lives along the stormy red track, facing the biting north wind. The sound like an iron horse began to sprout in my eardrum. At that time, it was still awake. At that time, there were scars everywhere. At that time, the face was only numb, hovering on the edge of national subjugation and extinction. Die? Is it? Fight? My most beloved brothers and sisters, with their pioneering attitude and heroic breath, inquired about their souls from Peiping, Tianjin and Northeast China and generated that young heart. Endless thunder pierced the scalding chests of countless people who were unwilling to be slaves. Get up-get up-stand up. You can see that the underground magma has been surging forever, which indicates a solemn oath: give me back my rivers and mountains, a pious baptism of blood and fire in this country where the sun rises! ! ! Use heroic spirit to forge a long sword, and use green blood to forge a monument-1. Snowflakes drift in 1935. Who broke my mother's golden ou in Na Yue? Half of the Yangtze River is stuffed with the iron hoofs of Heilongjiang's aggression. Snowflakes are fluttering, continuing the endless white curse. In the turbulent years of 1935, we lost the support of unity and couldn't find our family. We closed our eyes and heard the laughter of snowflakes. 12 years 1 month, the roaring through time and space gripped the throat of the earth, and countless blood vessels were trembling and angry. Hands like a forest swept the streets of China. On that day, the awakening of nine young people was the awakening of China, and the unity of young people was the unity of China. People who don't want to lose their homes wake up and don't want to be among the conquered. Let's stand at the forefront of the 2 1 century with the spirit of "December 9" and cheer for us. The world cheers for China! ! 2. The fiercer the war, who will put out the bonfire in Shenyang? Who holds an umbrella when it doesn't rain in Nanjing, and I raise the flag when it is cloudy by the well. The severe winter shakes the north and south today, and the hot summer shakes the things of that year. Why should the country be guilty? Scholars can't be bullied since ancient times!