Numbers from one to ten are simply boring. If we skillfully use them, carry out artistic processing and embed them in poetry with exquisite structure, we can make poetry unique in form, catchy in reading, interesting and unique. For example, poems describing the rural landscape and rural changes since the reform and opening up are:
One: When you walk to the second or third mile, there are four or five smoke villages, six or seven towers and eighty or ninety flowers.
Secondly, two incomes a year, three rooms and more than four feet, within five or six miles, and eighty or ninety high-rise buildings.
Another example is a poem published in an evening paper in Chongqing, Sichuan, describing the hungry and cold life of middle school teachers before liberation: "A suit of cheap cloth, two sleeves of chalk dust, three meals are not enough, the four seasons often frown, get up at five o'clock, the sixth hall wants you to blow, seven days a week, go around in all directions several times, nine days without pay, and ten families don't cook."
From one to ten, I used it freely in the above poems, which made people applaud.
There is a classic story that after many twists and turns, Sima Xiangru and Zhuo Wenjun finally got married and returned to Chengdu. Soon, Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty summoned him to bid farewell to Wen Jun. It has been five years since the years passed. Wen Jun misses her husband's letter very much. What Wan didn't expect was a letter from home with thirteen numbers written on it: "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, hundred, thousand and ten thousand". Wen Jun read the letter again and again to understand her husband's meaning. There is no "100 million" in the number, which means that she was
There is no meaning. Zhuo Wenjun was sad and resentful, so he immediately wrote back and asked someone to bring it back. The content of the letter is written like this:
"After a farewell, the two places were lovesick, saying it was March and April, but a farewell was five or six years. The lyre has no intention to play, the eight-part essay cannot be passed down, and the nine-ring chain breaks from it. Shiliting is anxious to see. All kinds of grievances, all kinds of thoughts, and all kinds of helplessness are strange.
I'm tired of having a thousand words to say. Chongyang climbs to see the lonely geese, and the full moon in August is not round. In July and a half, I burned incense and held candles to ask the sky. In the dog days of June, everyone shakes my heart. In May, durian is like fire, drenching flowers. In April, loquat turned yellow. I want to be confused about the mirror. Peach blossoms follow the water in March, and kite strings break in February. Hey! Lang Lang, I really hope that you are a woman and I am a man in the next life. "
Sima Xiangru read this poem with numbers several times in a row, and the more he read it, the more ashamed he felt, and the more sorry he felt for his spoony wife. Finally, I personally returned to my hometown and took Wen Jun to Chang 'an.
Wang Shizhen, a poet in A Qing, wrote "Qiu Jiang Fishing Alone", which is also a famous digital poetry:
A boat, a pole and an inch hook;
Sing a song, drink a bottle of wine, and catch a river alone.
There is a poem similar to this:
A sail, an oar, a fishing boat, a fisherman and a hook.
A bow and a smile, a bright moon and an autumn.
The order of anonymous geese winning in yuan dynasty.
One year old, day after day, autumn after autumn, one generation urges another. Meeting and parting, we have happiness and sadness. Lying on the sofa, dreaming all my life. Find a group of acquaintances, meet for a while, play for a while, and sing for a while.
There are as many as 22 characters embedded in the whole song. The author looks for his own life position in the sigh of fleeting time, aging and dreamlike life. His emotions seem broad-minded, but in fact they show bitterness and strong appeal.
spring
In a trip of two or three miles, there are four or five smoke villages, six or seven towers and eighty or ninety flowers.
In this little poem with twenty crosses, the characters account for half. The author chooses smoke villages, pavilions, flower branches and other things, decorates and depicts them with natural numbers from one to ten, and draws a beautiful landscape painting full of emotions by using the characteristics of fuzzy concepts produced by the combination of numbers.
Digital Poetry of He, a Poetess in Qing Dynasty
A flower, a stone, a touch of sunset, a bird, a mountain, a piece of water and a temple, a forest, yellow leaves and a monk return.
Using ten "ones" in a row will not make people feel repetitive, but the artistic conception is long and interesting.
The Digital Poetry of Xu Wenchang, a Cloth Talent in Ming Dynasty;
One piece after another, two pieces, three pieces, four or five pieces, six pieces, seven pieces and eight or nine pieces all disappeared when they flew into the plum blossom.
The first three sentences of this poem are quantifiers, but there are changes, from small to large, from gradual change to sudden change, just like the snow is getting bigger and bigger, and it is getting harder and harder. Finally, a sudden turn, ending with "nothing", full of poetic flavor.
village
Two years a year, three houses are more than four feet, and there are eighty or ninety tall buildings within 567 miles.
The scene of self-sufficiency in rural areas is vivid.
According to legend, Su Shi and his classmates went to Beijing to catch the exam. Xueyou worried about being late because of the weather delay, sighing into a poem:
Unique leaf, as a poet of 23, walked through six beaches and seven bays with four paddles and five sails, but it was a pity that it was ten minutes late.
Su Shi exhorted:
After ten years of cold window, I entered the 98 academy, abandoned worldly desires, studied hard the Five Classics and Four Books, and took three exams and two exams. I must win today.
Catkin flies, and flowers go into the clouds, never to return.
I don't want to part with you. Looking at the horizon, the soul follows the spirit,
Looking forward to coming back, I stood by the door in silence and tired of eating.
However, in October, snowflakes were flying all over the sky, and Iraqis did not return, sighing,
Double Ninth Festival, enjoy chrysanthemums and osmanthus trees, climb high and overlook, and cry alone.
See the Mid-Autumn Festival in August, sigh, the full moon is incomplete, and pray for the distant moon.
Seven coincidences, the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl also met, so I drank the tears of acacia alone. Who pity me?
In the hot summer solstice in June, my heart is cold and I can't feel warm. Not a word, not a forensic doctor.
In the Fifth Five-Year Plan, everyone in the upper reaches of the river paired up and turned their thoughts into rivers, trying to accuse them of ignorance.
In the blink of an eye, in April, Mulberry Picking Festival, I took time off to ask fish and geese if they could bring good news home. The geese were silent, flapping their wings and flying, and the fish screamed and dived to the bottom.
You see, when March is pink and green, spring is good, and my heart is more tired, and my efforts are wasted.
Aren't two people walking on the road together, and everything goes with the wind? Wanderers are blind and suspicious.
Suddenly, I couldn't stop, listening to the crow of magpies, looking at you, smiling and waving my arms.
I like being diligent, and I want to laugh and cry first!
And make a supplement.
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A kind word is good,