Who is on your white shirt?
Pour ketchup
When you wake up.
bright red
peach blossom
One by one.
Decorate on it
You are sleepy.
Wear sandals
hair
Disordered distribution
Look me in the eye and answer.
The mud on your leg
Tiny spots
How did it come into being?
who is it?
After I fell asleep at noon,
Dig birds on the roof
Go over the wall to pick apricots.
Who is it again?
Dive into the river to swim.
The walls are dark.
Rows of small handprints
Just pretend.
Poor appearance
Your little trick
I all know
Crying and shouting
useless
cry and shed bitter tears
Sad and wronged
But I don't blame you.
Don't complain
How to punish your mistakes?
Let you sit on my lap.
Wrong Modern Poetry 2 Time and Time Collision
Time to time
At the wrong time, a grass was born.
It's deserted and confused.
In the Central Plains, the wind is the audience.
Every grass loses blood and every grass is depressed.
The wind blew down the fence and filled up the gullies since ancient times.
The wheat piles are neat and the grass is full of vitality.
The grass touches the grass and the spirit touches the ground.
Listen to the sound of water, listen to the vibration of soil and stones.
The red flag soothes the grass.
With the stream, the trunk flowed into the city.
Since then, this city has become Xin's second hometown.
Looking up from the bottom of the tall building, riding a green tree.
From spring to autumn
From one corner to another.
A grass is lonely, and a grass is tough.
Love, decline, rebirth
From the front of the sun to the back.
The grass silently stopped and nodded.
One day, Cao complained that he was born at the wrong time.
One day, the grass stood proudly and happily in the sun.
Although the grass is untimely, it can't extricate itself from the patina.
But it came out of smoke.
Jump out of the market
Although the time is wrong, a grass is still practicing.
In the morning, there is rain and dew everywhere.
At noon, the lost dandelion came back.
In the evening, the grass comes home with a dream.
At dawn, the grass became a gorgeous totem.
Mistakes Three Mistakes in Modern Poetry
Chou-yu Cheng
I walked through Jiangnan.
The appearance in the season is like the opening and falling of lotus flowers.
If the east wind does not come, catkins will not fly in March.
Your heart is like a little lonely city.
Like a bluestone street facing the night.
Without a sound, the spring curtain in March can't be lifted.
Your heart is a small closed window.
My dada horseshoe is a beautiful mistake.
I am not a returnee, I am a passer-by. ...
Extended reading: the road not chosen
Robert Frost
There are two roads in the yellow forest.
Unfortunately, I can't participate at the same time.
I stood at that intersection for a long time,
I looked at a road that I could see,
Until it disappeared into the jungle.
But I chose another path,
It's lush and lonely,
Appear more attractive and beautiful;
Although on this road,
There are few travelers' footprints.
The leaves fell to the ground that morning,
Neither road is polluted by footprints.
Ah, leave a way, see you another day!
But I know this road has no end,
I'm afraid I can't go back.
Maybe in a few years, somewhere,
I will sigh softly and look back:
There are two roads in the forest-
I chose a lonely one,
From then on, it decided my life path.