Some people say that dreams are warm;
Some people say that dreams are the source of self-nourishment.
Some people say that dreams are hot pillow that warms oneself.
Adults say, "Dreams are purple!"
Children's colorful dreams:
Have your own happy world,
Have your own great dreams,
Study hard.
Adults become children,
Adult's business dream:
Have your own busy career,
Have your own great future,
Have your own relaxed mood.
In the dream of the widowed old man in his later years:
A room full of children,
Let children respect their own happiness,
I wish you happiness in your later years.
Someone asked, "What color is the dream?"
The child said, "Dreams are colorful!"
The old man said, "Dreams are blue!"
In the dream,
The old people have regained their vitality,
Spend the joy of childhood together again!
Appreciation of Modern Poetry in Dreams 2 I saw you in my dream again tonight.
Just like in the past.
Every time I see you in a dream.
I will bow my head and pretend to be heartless.
But when I wake up, I always take out your picture.
I watched it for a long time
You are still you in the dream.
In my dream, I am no longer me.
I'm going to a distant place.
Do a great thing
I want to talk to everyone who has tasted the sweetness of life.
Tell me whose love is the most beautiful.
……
But why am I not me anymore?
Love is a luxury after all.
Your message failed to
Through two thousand miles of people and villages.
I won't ask again.
Because I know
I always see you in my dreams.
I saw you in my dream again tonight.
You in my dream will torture me for the rest of my life.
"Dream" Modern Poetry Appreciation 3 The night is hazy
Snowflakes are still floating.
Cover the mountain and fill the depression.
With his hometown along the coast.
The year is drawing near.
My heart is burning.
I can't sleep all night.
A state of unconsciousness
Fluttering and swaying
Smooth sailing.
Fly over Shaoguan
Fly over Qinling Mountains
woof
Yuan Min
Too proud.
My home
It's getting closer.
Look, look.
That's not the symbol of the city.
Empress Zetian shines in the Tang Dynasty.
Look, look.
There are new tricks in Green Valley and Red City.
That 10,000-ton cement plant
Bidding is in progress.
Flying red flag
Firecrackers are ringing.
Even the hole in my house
Also hidden in the crowd.
Smile with your mouth closed.
Go home quickly.
Surprise them.
Leave it alone for a while.
Standing on the high mountain at the head of the village
It's just a blink of an eye
It smells like Chinese New Year.
Red lanterns are hung high at the door.
The smell of bacon drifted with the wind.
Can't restrain passion
Turn on the sound and cheer.
mother
We're back.
Dream 4 Appreciation of Modern Poetry. Gray sky
The rain fell like a needle.
One, two, countless flowers
Spinning, jumping, lying on the bluestone pavement.
In the rain curtain
A small purple umbrella.
Like mushrooms
Move forward slowly.
High heels clatter.
Use your slow, thick click, click, click.
Dancing in a white skirt.
Like a blooming lily.
Walking in the rain
Have a calm and calm heart
Slowly appreciate the generosity and elegance of the rain.
Listen carefully to the joy and sadness of the rain.
Tick tock, tick tock
The voice is crisp and pleasant.
That's raindrops singing softly.
It seems that your burning heart is also beating.
The wind is blowing and the rain is falling.
Cool is coming.
Hold my hand tightly.
A drop of rain falls from your fingertips.
The fog is full of lingering rain lines.
Part of the invisible world
Willow by the pond
Wash your soft long hair.
A red rose is delicate and charming, and its branches are swaying gently.
"Dream" Modern Poetry Appreciation 5 When I wake up from my dream
Heart, tearing pain.
Father is so slow in dreams.
Without the eyes of God, poor thing.
As if in that cold world
Being bullied.
Or poor, or have no money to spend.
I bit my lip hard.
Put away the tears in your eyes.
Pressing back to the stomach, bitter taste.
Wandering in the blood
Like a father's soul.
A heart-rending impact.
My ruthless body
I abandoned all the bondage.
Even if the sky falls, I am fearless.
Kneel before my father in shame.
Your hut is full of weeds.
I like the hair you haven't cut for a long time.
I am careful and slow.
Comb one by one.
I knelt down and realized
Your warm chest and generous back
You like to pat my ass when I am naughty.
When I left home for school
Rain, snow, wind and the sun
You carry dry food and pickles on your back.
A man walked more than twenty miles, hoping to learn something.
I kind of like to eat imperial food.
In front of all the neighbors
Your face becomes radiant.
However, I am far from your sight.
The grace of kneeling on the chest is not fully reported.
In the days when you need me to hold hands.
I only gave you a cold crutch.
Father, the wall in front of your grave
Bricks began to weather and tiles began to fall off.
I don't have time to fix it for you either.
You raised me with shit and urine.
Life is hard.
Now, your blood is rigid, and your tears are buried.
But I can't give you a beautiful little home.
On Qixi Festival, Flowers Falling in Dreams 6 Appreciation of Modern Poetry
It was windy on the balcony all night, but I woke up from an old dream.
Zui Xiang miles, buried in the rhyme.
-The meteor shower in "Becoming a Butterfly".
Spring flowers go, but summer is cool.
Text/Rain Butterfly Honger
When the wind blows, spring turns blue, and thousands of trees bloom overnight.
Drink peaches on the windowsill, and the scenery is light.
Flowers kiss each other and are embedded in the moss path.
Blue bricks lean against the wall, and red apricots are unique.
Sang Ma is mistaken for a withered reed, but it looks like a farmland.
One eyebrow is blue, only sighing that the beauty is thin.
Time flies, flowers bloom and fall, leaving only fragrance.
Flowers bloom and dreams fall, and plum blossoms are fragrant and cool.
Dancing with the wind, falling in love for a lifetime, tracing the incense table.
-The meteor shower in "Becoming a Butterfly".
My life is not smooth, and it is not necessarily full of charm. I don't bind the words in a straightforward way, let go of the words and express them freely. Why laugh at me with rhymes? Dreamers only sigh and worry, and I am crazy and intoxicated. Foolish talk about heaven and earth, pay fickle love, be remembered, Huang Liang dreamed of falling flowers. Tanabata, listening to the magpie bridge, whispering. Only in a cool place, I was buried under the moon and in the rain ...
Appreciation of Modern Poetry of Dream 7- 1
Fate Comes from Yunmeng —— Two Poems for Yunmeng's Sister
Dreams are pinned on clouds.
Fate begins with a cloud dream.
Something. That can only be discovered by accident.
Lucky first acquaintance, you surprised me.
In my eyes, I have more nostalgia and concern for my first love since then.
How many times in my dream, a cloud held my hand.
Vast poems are flying in the air.
Gentle sunshine rises quietly from the bottom of my heart.
Through blue and high, that faint white.
Like a butterfly in my heart.
Sister, you bloom on the blue sky lake.
A lotus flower, blurred and changeable, elegant and hidden tears.
Gentle, simple but elegant, lotus steps lightly move poetry empty.
Let the plants on earth stare at it with respect.
Let me interpret you with persistent love,
Touch you gently with your eyes
The heart is like a silent snow-capped mountain, towering into the clouds.
Always look up at the sky
Fate is inseparable from clouds and snow.
Freehand brushwork is a vivid picture of mountains and rivers.
Clouds and sounds, Ying Ying is affectionate.
Overflow a Dagu River.
The season of singing birds and flowers and writing poems,
Since then, my silent river has been stirred.
Kong Ling, elegant white wave shadow.
The ripples of missing flow in your direction.
two
Wheat field in hometown
Away from time
make one's way up stream
See you again.
It is the season when wheat flowers are in full bloom in the north.
Open the yellowed memory
Interpret your life with a poem.
In the wheat field, your simple and golden thoughts are planted.
It suits all my emotions and condenses into transparency.
In the liquid, the wheat waves rolled on the blade.
father
A firefly is carrying a lantern tonight.
Light up the wheat fields of childhood.
I use wet language to touch.
You bend down, that pastoral and tired figure.
Feel the sweat flowing down the blood of the earth
Your pulse is beating.
I met you in the last days of your life.
Facing the wheat field, my forehead is still shining.
Smile with hope
Father, when I read the last line of my poem,
Gradually blurred eyes make me virtual.
A slug, perched in your wheat field tonight.
three
Destined to think of you at this moment.
Destined to think of you at this moment.
I am holding a moon.
The cordate telosma is blooming brilliantly outside the window.
The smell makes me empty myself.
Turn it into the shape you like.
Quietly waiting for the screen, expecting a note.
White butterflies come to linger in my heart.
There are always one or two stars in the sky.
I like your smiling bright eyes
Flowers swaying in the wind
The petals are rolling with glittering and translucent acacia dew.
A breeze gently brushed my ear.
The nonsense in your dream is coming.
dear
This night, let me smell the flowers and write poems.
Travel through time and space like a meteor, and gather your dreams.
Let me hold the moon.
Light up the direction when you come.
Appreciation of Modern Poetry in Dream 8 Encountering Dream Butterfly
Jia shichang
Occasionally in the moonlight
Meet one
A loving butterfly
So charming
Dance lightly.
I feel the way you fly.
Beyond my dreams
Not near, not far.
What should I communicate with you?
A wordless friend
Even with occasional feedback.
Wechat content
And often.
Classics in classic melodies ......
Flapping their wings
You jump lightly among the flowers.
It seems like many years ago
I performed with my heart.
Dance editing
This sad night
It reminds me very clearly.
White skirt
Light dance steps
Sad feelings
And a pair of tearful eyes.
Butterflies with stories
So, the flowers you brought.
refreshing
In my opinion, it has become
Hazy ChanJuan passed by.
now
I can only abandon the past.
Cherish the moment when you can't extricate yourself.
To be with you without hesitation.
Get along well with each other
The moment I met you.
I am in a trance.
Stunned.
I don't know why I am so excited inside.
Naturally, I remember.
Some tears shed.
There's another song.
Some past events
Butterfly dancing
Hit me hard.
A longing and haggard soul
Have taken root in
The last sentence in my heart
Obsessed, persistent, depraved
At the moment when the beauty fell asleep.
Like an affectionate violin.
Has been on the stage of "butterfly lovers"
fall asleep
Let the new death pass.
Cracked wasteland
The butterfly in the dream
Smiling.
Over the pianist's bowstring
Away from this world
I still choose to walk into the grave.
Appreciation of Modern Poetry in Dream Nine Muling people are old and the bridge is broken, but the old dreams are like mountains and the blood is full of peach blossoms.
When the moon is cold and the day is warm in the Han Palace, the monarch has no eyes and the geese die.
On the eve of the Buddha, there were endless rumors in Zhongqing Temple, and the lyre picked dust under the moon.
Actors have been wandering all their lives, interpreting other people's geometric intentions, but they don't know where to go.
Who secretly made a promise, silently endowed with three lives, drifting from place to place, just for a song.
Whoever paints with blood, his memory will be dim, the lamp will be cold and the road will be fleeting.
A dress, beautiful peony in prosperous times, dazzling Chang 'an.
A pot of thin wine, in accordance with the willow sleep is silly, telling the jathyapple can.
Blue sky and pavilion make people cry.
The yellow flowers still exist, the pavilion is short, and I sigh several times.
In this way, I dreamed of all the patterns, lingering all night, and there was silence after the rain.
It rains at night, bananas are busy, and it won't be cold until the candle shadow is closed.
There is a long whistle by the river, and an Artemisia sticks to the sail and spreads far away.
Once dispersed, it is difficult to smooth the piano. Jinse is old and melancholy. Who cares?
The play on the pavilion, the meaning in the pen, is just a cry.
Three points of bitterness, the shadow is hard to live.
Appreciation of Modern Poetry in Dreams 10 You are still you, I am still me, and this is the dream.
Dreams are very similar to reality.
I saw it.
I really saw it.
Haircut head
Bangs on the forehead
Cover your eyes
The smile seems to have disappeared.
Know each other very well.
at present
stranger
She's really not here. She was.
but I ...
I'm not the same person anymore.
She has matured a lot.
I
Much more stable.
I looked at her face in the photo.
Thinking in my heart
Who is this man?
Tell me at the first sight
Not her
real
It's hard for you to believe a year.
Bad working environment
Can really change a person
I believe.
She has matured.
Look at him.
It feels like we really belong to two worlds now.
Whose is he?
Who is mine?
No one knows.
I really want to pray for the old moon.
Let's come together.
regrettable
Well, that's interesting.
Is it okay?
I really want to know.
How many times?
How many times?
Other people's words echoed in my ears.
She is either yours or not.
Don't force it.
at present
It's really a long way to go.
That's all.
You are yours.
I am mine.
Nobody knows.
You go your way.
I'll take mine.
finally
If you feel lonely
I hope it's time for you to appear in my dream.
Don't meet.
It just isolates the distance between them.
want to see you
Really close at hand.
This way, please
A man in love.
If you regret your love.
finally
After all, you are still you.
I am still me.
……
20xx . 3. 14/20 12 10.28
I will wait for you
I always feel that you don't care enough about me. When I talk to you, as long as I don't talk, we are cold. Is this love?
Why are you so tired? My imaginary love can be cared for and considerate. ...
Why do I always take the initiative to talk and find something to say, and your words are particularly short, just like cherishing words like gold? ...
Don't say a word ...
Why?
Today, after watching the finale of You from the Stars, I suddenly got a new feeling that Qian Songyi can wait for Do Min Joon for three years without hope, and we are just separating the two places. ...
At least we are not separated by 1 100 million light years. ...
I think I can wait. ...
The author's dream _ collection works too far away
Midnight, quietly reading you.
Midnight, quietly reading you: from the bottom of my heart, feeling you. Every once in a while, I will hang you in my heart's home with a character jumping with my soul and tell you everything about me-life, loneliness and sigh, sadness and sweetness. ...
Midnight, quietly reading you: at this time, you are quietly listening to me and know where my pain is; At this moment, you stare at me quietly and ponder my thoughts, like a cup of warm tea in a winter night, curling up with white mist and emitting a faint fragrance. ...
Reading you quietly in the middle of the night: standing at the window silently watching you, like a quietly blooming lily, warming my heart bit by bit, as meticulous as a hot summer day, propping up a summer shade and holding a clear spring to quench my thirst. ...
Midnight, quietly reading you: Time Ran Ran, the years are seamless, and every beautiful word dances in your heart and mine. Since then, my soul is no longer lonely and confused; No matter how time kills my spirit, I can't give up the sadness and sweet passion I told you. ...
Midnight, quietly reading you: I have you in this life, no longer thirsty for love; Having you in this world makes my life richer and more energetic. ...
Read you, know you, miss you more and more. ...
Thirteen letters
The thirteenth letter: it doesn't matter how long two people are together, what matters is whether you stay in this person's heart or not.
Happiness comes so suddenly.
Happiness comes like this, but it doesn't seem to be sudden at all. It seems to be a secret arrangement, so it feels like this-all smiles.
I hope you are happy.
Show a bright smile
I hope you are happy.
Show a bright smile
because
You're happy-
I am happy, too.
We are all very happy.
On this day, as soon as I opened the door, the spring breeze blew in and I felt very happy.
If you don't leave, I won't give up.
Looking at the horizon, it's a sad song.
In the moonlight, I drink alone, and I only want to drink the pot of loneliness in one gulp.
-Write it in the front
I weave my dream into a kite, hang the thin thread of years and send you far away. Cut away memories, close your eyes, turn around and let you go. I broke my wings for you and let it hold you up and fly higher and farther.
Will you look back at me when you leave tears? I can't tell the sky. Is that afterglow a sunset tear or your nostalgia? I thought I would be fully aware of my injury, but I couldn't say goodbye when I said it.
Red leaves are flying, one after another. Autumn rain falls, drop by drop.
What was the ending I agreed with you in my previous life? What kind of life is the end?
In the rain shadow of fireworks, there is no your back. I looked for it in a panic, looking for the blue shirt.
Vague tears, looking at the horizon, but I can't find your memory. Only to find that once something is lost, it can never be found again; Some people won't forget until they miss it. ...
We each hold half of the red line between Yue and Lao. Finally, we tore it to pieces. ...
Relying on the west wind alone, watch the red swaying in the cup. Can't see once, your clear outline. I don't remember when you smiled.
We all have our own stubbornness, pretending to be strong and disguising ourselves behind a cold mask. But after the dead of night, I took off my mask and found that my thin heart was already in tears and fragmented. Without a piece, it is no longer complete. ...
Why is love so short and forgotten, but so long?
I thought you were my fairy tale. I thought I was the protagonist of the fairy tale.
I was lonely when I got it. I only see memories being divided into countless messy pieces by the meat cleaver of the years. But why is it bleeding?
Red dust, who has pity on me? Who cherishes my tenderness when I was young? Stupid? What about forgetting? Even though youth is wasted, it is just a song in the world of mortals.
I take memory as the title page of the story, and time lays it out for me. Walking on this winding bluestone path, I stumbled and couldn't see the direction clearly. ...
Blood-stained ink is always soaked with amber tears.
You said I was fragile.
I said, only when you are tempted will you have tears, and only when you flow through tears will you learn to be strong.
You ask, where is the end of the world?
I said, turn around and turn your back on you. This moment is the end of the world.
Appreciate the beauty of flowers in one season and the desolation of flowers in one season. I just hope you are as good as ever. The next corner is happiness.
The end of the world is long, and the seasons are broken. I just want to keep this fleeting silence. My own garden.
Finally, at this fork in the road, I was the only one left. No matter how long the road is, if I walk alone, I will have a good life. ...
ˇ————— If the son,
- QQ 1066799583
season
Unconsciously, it is another autumn, and the golden rice fragrance and wheat fragrance return together, perhaps with heart and joy.
The golden traces are scattered all over the floor, full of candlelight and floating like sunset.
The tears in my eyes are crystal clear and full of what I have gained. Looking up at the sky, it seems that snowflakes are flying, completely clearing away the glory of the sunset and fading away the bitterness along the way.
Suddenly: "We swept the sky with snowflakes, crossed the vast expanse and returned to the starting point of the earth".
I fell asleep with ears of rice and wheat, and the echo rippled in the golden night sky. This night is so firm.
Author of Selected Works of Gilmont