Are there any poems or poems that can recall the good old school days?

The wheat on the roadside where friends who write poems live is green. Every time they raise their whip, there will be a gentle folk song from their sister who is covered with dew-the river in the moonlight is the most tired and fulfilling time of the day. I am as thin as a cicada floating in my lover's pupil, my clothes rack stands in the moonlight, or our silence like water overflows slightly in the eye of the sky, allowing souls to wander in each other. Let daily trifles turn into golden butterflies, fly out of long silent wounds and drop into a silent river in the moonlight. In the river, we walked hand in hand, washing away the fatigue, dirt and pain. A song reveals half a haggard face and half a vicissitudes of life. In the yearning for a wild locust tree, we walked silently, winding across our chests, knowing that heaven is seamless and screening out the silver thread. I suddenly looked up, and the maple leaves turned red in the night. Chrysanthemum night cream silver cream. You wet every narrow space and poverty every day. Let's squeeze a gap for poverty. Let the sleepless piano hold the moonlight tightly, kiss the urgency of love, suck the emulsion of nature, dissolve quietly in the flexible and sacred revelation of motherhood, and touch the scars that we have no money to treat in the depths of our nature. Moon lover's pupil is not polluted. You are impure. The sadness of being destroyed makes us walk without hesitation, waiting for another river to break its string and become blind. The heartbroken blind man scattered notes of broken wings and legs all the way. How long will it take us to pick them up one by one? The first issue of Poetry Magazine in 2000, Selected Poems on the Same Topic, was taken from Selected Literary Works in Longnan in the Past 50 Years. Sister Lanzi shyly shoots folk songs like arrows from the depths of the jungle. My heart is like a deer hitting a bamboo, and I have a lot on my mind all day. Looking forward to your arrival, Zilan's sister goshawk flew down from the top of Qiu Chi, like a sacred soul falling on the eaves. Countless evils turn back, and your songs penetrate my life. Zilan's sister is waiting for you with a cup of fragrant tea. Zilan's sister is still waiting for you with a cup of fragrant tea. The original issue of Poetry Monthly1April 1994 was taken from Selected Literary Works in Longnan in Recent 50 Years. Zhuo Ma, the moon hanging in my heart, you stole my warm thoughts with your cold fingers. The midnight sky was dark and a star was missing. A crow deeply cut into the bone marrow of the night. Those blue feelings exude a faint chill on the ancient tiles. Zhuo Ma, look at that crow standing on a bare coriander tree, quietly looking at my door, and my eyes are spinning like beans. I couldn't sleep all night. What about you? Did you burn your finger? 8+0994 On the winter night when I left, who can know my mood at the moment? On the winter night when I left, my old father's frost condensed heavily on your gray face, and the song was so sad that my eyes echoed in my heart. The chaotic crowd has no eyes to stop my heavy footsteps. My father, your thin body is bending more and more towards your slowly lowered head. My heart has been turned into a dry red maple by the cold. Bay "Li" poetry bimonthly1February, 994, Ayue, when all the dreamy days became strange, Ayue, we lost more than one eye. In the dark night, the blue and gold trees disappeared, but I clearly felt whose heart was hanging on the treetops. When everything becomes soft, the shine makes me scream. The voice of tears is soft in my body, just like the original silk and satin "Flying" No.65438+March 0996 of Selected Literary Works of Longnan in Fifty Years. When the wheat is harvested in June, I come to harvest the dew covered with wheat ears at dawn, and then the summer breeze. Standing in the field, grasshoppers cry at noon. I want to harvest the cuckoo's cry. I want to harvest boiling sweat. I also want to harvest the gentle flowing mountain stream.