Text/smile at the sky
Colored butter pattern
In Ta 'er Temple, through the beautiful butter sculpture, I saw the cold palms, cold lips and fiery hearts hidden behind these flowers.
Through the beautiful butter sculpture, I vaguely smelled the smell of milk. Oh, no, I clearly heard cows singing, and herds of cows were singing their last songs on the grassland.
I put down the emotional burden from afar, put it in the tower where the bodhi tree grows, and then prostrated myself. When I stand up, my heart is as pure and open as the sky.
It's just that my heart is as cold and kind as butter sculpture. Maybe it melted and disappeared before you could look at it. Turn into a pillar of light in front of the Buddha and light up my prayers for you.
Qinghai Lake
I once again walked into Qinghai Lake. On both sides of the road, it's cloudy and sunny. The weather is really good, but it's sunny. Wearing a light coat for a while, wearing a coat for a while, and walking through spring, summer, autumn and winter in one day seems that life is so short.
Standing on the altar of Qinghai Lake, my heart is finally as calm as Qinghai Lake, although the wind and waves have not completely stopped. Listening to the song of offering sacrifices to the lake again and again, my tears welled up in my eyes again and again, lamenting why my beloved lake god also likes to make waves.
Qinghai Lake fell like a blue sky in the depths of the grassland, and she lay there peacefully. As long as the wind blows, the waves will rise, and even birds and white clouds will ripple with the waves. No matter how much I love her, I can't take away a plant of water grass.
I want to be a small fish in Qinghai Lake, and I can relax in her arms. It seems that I am not afraid of someone disturbing my dream. Little wings, with a small tail, glides gently, as if waiting for the light of the sun, the moon and the mountains, never being noticed.
It is really not easy to visit Qinghai Lake once. I have been reluctant to leave. Looking back, the sheep spread like clouds on the lake, and my thoughts are turning into water all over the lake, slowly freezing.
Huangheshi
By the Yellow River in Guide, I saw the water of the Yellow River as transparent and clear as a stream. Who says jumping into the Yellow River won't wash it off? What can't be washed away is your own soul and body.
On the beach, there are small Yellow River stones. Over the years, the bones of these seawater are so smooth and round, red, yellow, white, blue, and occasionally green.
Many years ago, they rose from the bottom of the sea, and now they are paved with roads leading to the sea. Maybe they will never reach the sea, but they look at the direction of the sea like eyes.
I picked up a stone statue of the Yellow River and lifted a hill in the south of the Yangtze River. A stone of the Yellow River lies in my palm, but the mountains in the south of the Yangtze River will always stand in my heart. It's not the lake or the Yellow River water that flows in the middle, but my tears. Without taking away any dust, I left with a sound.
No one can hear this silent cry, by the Yellow River.
Qinghai grassland
Walking on the grassland in Qinghai, I feel close to the sky, and looking up is heaven.
Looking down, I see that the surface between the blades of grass is independent, but under the invisible, they are intertwined forever. Grass roots and grass roots embrace naked, which is more comfortable than stretched grass leaves. They never keep secrets, involve each other or care about each other. The thoughts between them are overwhelming and endless, and even the sky is low, as if it is their hometown across the hill.
A white horse, spreading its hooves on the paved green carpet, flies happily and rides on her. Her direction is my direction.
In this green distance, missing will never grow old. My love life is like the wings of an angel, flying over Qian Shan by my side. No matter where I go, she is the most charming attraction, and her care is full of my bags.
In the distance, the sky is no longer far away, no longer separated, sunrise and sunset, how harmonious. It's a pity that the nights are short and the days are long, and a moment's joy brings a long-lasting miss. Like green grass, covered with long-awaited sand.
Some people want to go deep for a long time, while others want to be uprooted. How did the wildfire burn out? A gust of wind, a rain, miss will be full of vilen.
Raj, mt
At an altitude of 3,820 meters, those Aobao from the Kunlun stone base have already passed through the city. It is no wonder that there are no stones at the foot of Laki Mountain, and all the stones have gone to the Aobao at the top of the mountain to meet them.
I stood alone on Laki Mountain, far away from the crowd, and walked towards Aobao. There was a young man gesturing. He was speechless, like a stone piled on Aobao, without saying a word.
How many years later, he will become a stone in Laki Mountain, and he will not say a word regardless of the wind and rain.
After so many years, I met my lover in poetry. Will I become a stone and a proud bag in a few years?
Lihua bonfire
All the men and women who just danced wildly have left, leaving only a pile of residual bonfires, like an old man squatting on the playground, whispering something gently.
A few faint starlight, a few fluttering flags, the vast Qinghai-Tibet Plateau has long been asleep, and I am the only one walking aimlessly.
I looked up and looked at the moon in the night sky like your face and looked at me from a distance. I can hear your slight breathing, like a warm bonfire, stretching out red flames and French kisses licking endless loneliness.
Laxiwa
A huge gap can produce miracles!
Ever since I was a child, I like to stand under the eaves and watch dripping water wear away the stone. I always look up at the water and the rainbow. But in Laxiwa, where I long for sunshine, the bright Yellow River flies out of the rainbow, as if it were trampled underfoot.
From looking up to looking down, I saw the light from the water, which can wash away the darkness.
I just didn't expect that pure water is also full of desires. As long as I open a gap in her life, I can see her unexpected freedom. That indomitable impact on the turbulent mountains and rivers, as if her vitality will never be exhausted, her arms do not like to make people sleep.
When I climbed from the water to the shore, I was soaked to the skin and my inner loss had already been blown dry by the wind; When tears turned into flames and stood on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, my heart was full of light.
It turns out that miracles are produced in a huge gap!
Qianzi L.
I didn't know there was such a charming scenery without going deep into your hinterland.
Smooth as satin and warm as spring breeze. You lie on the river bed at will, and many birds are reluctant to leave because of all kinds of customs.
I can't resist your temptation. Jade bone, an ice muscle, is spotless, so pure that people dare not move a step. I want to grow the wings of a bird, fly gently in this world, and stop gently in every landscape.
It seems that time can go back, and here you are back to your girlhood.
A gentle call, like a flame under an iceberg; A slow touch is like lightning in a thunderstorm.
The whole body is bright and soft, who knows the hardships you have come all the way?
It's hard to see you after a long journey. You can only imagine yourself in your dreams, and your infinite amorous feelings will be displayed to others day and night.
Only when I regard you as a noble angel, you open all your body and mind for me, and I dare not trample on every softness of you.
Daotanghe
The Daotang River flows quietly into Qinghai Lake like tears, full of tender feelings like water, clear and pure, crystal clear and long.
It turned out that he threw himself into the arms of the Yellow River. It turned out that he was determined to spend the rest of his life with her in the ocean, never to return. However, Sun Moon Mountain, which became rich overnight, blocked his way. He had to turn his head and quietly look west for a different destination.
He was thin and tough, and turned his back to wipe the tears from his face. Step by step, he turned back and crossed the insurmountable mountain, with tears in his eyes. ...
He turned his indelible thoughts into sunflowers on both sides of the strait, and drove all the way to the east, all the way golden, but no one saw the dull pain of this yellow piece.
In fact, the Yellow River has always opened its tolerant arms to him, forgiving his angry deviation, and listening to his murmur over mountains and mountains day and night, the roar of the Yellow River is the call of sound!
Xiang, male, was born in Daye, Hubei Province in 1960s. Now he works in Dongchu.com, Hubei Huangshi Daily Media Group, and has published eight books of prose and poetry, such as Back in Time. His works have won many awards in Poetry magazine, Star Poetry magazine and Feitian magazine, and some of his works have been included in various anthologies edited by Poetry magazine and other units.
Prose poetry view: Prose poetry is the light projected from nature and society to the deep heart, which should be viewed from six angles: from small to large, from short to good, from shallow to deep, from deep to quiet, from emotion to thinking and from seeing.