Requesting: A poem about July or a short essay describing July (no need to answer for ancient ones)

Things in July

1

Always thought those dust

were left in the box of memory

Yellow and mildew

The outside

A brass lock

Rusted

So

< p>I thought I couldn't open the box

So

I said to myself

"It's okay

The box is locked"

This afternoon

Outside the window, the ultraviolet rays are strong

Some part of the body

It feels vaguely painful

< p>Suddenly there was a loud noise

Shaking the dust in the box

Two

Who is it

Driving six black horses

Running all the way

Rumbling sound

The wind blew up the debris on the ground

The sky was patched together

Dark clouds Favorite pattern

In an instant, the rain poured down

Like water smoke

It poured into the window

The dry land could not bear it

p>

This sudden happiness

Can't help but moan in pain

The frown has relaxed

The tired leaves are blowing in the wind

It is already crumbling

But it holds its chest up happily

There is no one left in the outside world

The whole space between heaven and earth

Only the shouts of the wind and rain are left

Actually, I just want to

Let the memory hold on to the wall

Unexpectedly

Encountered the last heavy rain in July

Heavy rain

All life is dry

Waiting

Looking forward in the strong wind

Exulting in the heavy rain

Only my poor memory

Drenched wet

Being blown away by the wind Blown away

Diluted by water

That’s fine

No need to match keys anymore

July Poetry Alley

1

A name that I dare not call out easily

It comes out vividly in other people’s mouths

My thoughts

< p>Just like the pink in February

Born in moderation

2

You are the wind blowing in my palm

Midnight

Use the color of your underwear

Name the poem

written for you

Early morning

I use Words as a stick

Knocking mercilessly

Love that does not follow the right path

3

In the days of moving forward forever

Accidentally cut my life short

Taste the different flavors of the wind

I

I am no longer a white sail

< p> 4

In the Internet

Men and women lie to each other

Take the opportunity to create love

The sea and the sky are the same color

< p>I am a woman wading in the water

Walking alone with the moonlight on my back

5

A love affair with too much moisture

In It has been stored in the body for too long

A thing called rheumatism

Fell in love with my bones

Suddenly understood

Beasts Not easy to get sick

Just because they walk on all fours

6

The sky in July is too smooth

The bald pen that screams hoarse

I can’t write a tribute to my eternal love

Who can testify

My unforgettable love for you

7

Weak grass

Knows a kind of destiny

Be able to break it into whole parts

Stop the unbridled wind

Because it refuses to gallop< /p>

Xu Beihong’s ninth horse and I

Promise

outside the paper

Walking together

Seven Missing the Moon

Author: Melancholy Purple Shell

Source: Mud embryo Original article writing address: /article/3708

In the burning hot July, I Covering the whole season with longing. When the first ray of sunlight in the morning penetrates the curtains, and you open your hazy eyes after waking up, longing overflows in your heart. Along with new expectations, I don’t know when, that distant but real longing seems to have become a habit. , accompanied me to start a new day, from dawn to night.

In the silent night, the familiar melody echoes in the ears, and the longing spreads in the bottom of my heart. Standing alone in the silent night, the moonlight pours down a ray of clear brilliance, a kind of warm pain, a kind of Sweet melancholy, a kind of happy sadness, fills the heart.

The tenderness of the past echoed in my heart. In the depths of loneliness, the deep concern seeped into my skin bit by bit, embedded in my heart. The boundless sadness filled the night sky. Only then did I know what it meant to lower my brows, but when it reached my heart, I realized that it was... The taste of longing.

When missing has become a habit, all the gaps are filled with its presence, and every spare moment becomes the sweetest memory. Missing is a kind of fate and a kind of beauty. It is a kind of sustenance, so I indulged my longing, let it swim in my dreams, and let my longing replace melancholy.

I thought that longing was just a kind of confusion, but who knew that there was happiness, sadness, sweetness, tears, longing and sighs, a kind of silent expectation.

The soaring flight that I once looked forward to has already flowed on my fingertips, like the feather clouds have turned into teardrops, moistening the sky, gradually growing into a yearning moon, illuminating the hazy loneliness, at this moment only I can put all my thoughts into the keyboard to express my loneliness at this moment. I hold the pen and want to write something on the letterhead, but I only write down my thoughts. My thoughts become a devil and a poison, but my heart is not afraid of being swallowed up, but my thoughts become more and more. It’s getting stronger and stronger, and my longing has turned into an ocean and a poem. What is the reason that makes me feel that kind of reluctance to abandon you? It’s a warm, sweet and helpless feeling. I also wanted to face it lightly, but that long-lasting feeling Buried thoughts are rising endlessly, covering every corner. Only then did I realize what it means to keep cutting and still be confused!

Looking through the past bits and pieces, I am immersed in the pursuit of memories of the past alone. I open the photo album and look at you from different angles. My eyes are full of warmth and tenderness. Your smile is like that. Clear, I really want Yun'er to take away my crazy thoughts at the moment and spread them all over your dreams, but I'm afraid of disturbing your clear dreams, so I can only hide my thoughts silently in my heart and caress your photo on the cheek. , whispering to you, telling you my crazy love. .

The years of lovesickness in July string the thoughts of July into raindrops, irrigate all the burning heat, and moisten the dry thoughts. Turn the thoughts of July into crystal nectar, penetrate into every inch of skin, and moisturize every patch of warmth. Turn the thoughts of July into the breeze, blowing away the hot mania. The longing that is dry and hot.

Author: Melancholy Purple Shell

Source: Mud embryo article writing Original address: /article/3708