The rhyme pressure is not good, it will get better gradually if you use more.
The consciousness remains on the straightforward expression. Poetry is not actually vernacular with rhymes.
Poetry is a road, leading readers to an artistic conception.
When you first start writing, try to use as much imagery and imagination as possible. Don’t write poetry that expresses your feelings directly. Try to enrich your own imagination and imagery first. Read more famous poems, memorize them, and use their classic imagery. Master the usage of classic images, use the ancient sentences, and change them into beautiful sentences. This way you won't be poor.
Use more imagery to express your artistic conception so as not to appear dry.
The following poem is a good example. However, the lyrics you wrote are quite good. If Zhang Huimei sings them, they will become popular! ! ! keep it up.
I saw you in my previous life, in Chang'an, where the city was full of white pear blossoms.
The wind of the prosperous Tang Dynasty blew gently,
A group of Tufans Messenger, come to greet their Bodhisattva.
But I took the soldiers and set out for Loulan.
I captured Yanzhi to repay Yanzhi's killing.
The majestic Potala under the sun,
The golden and iron horses lying drunk on the yellow sand,
The lost youth in Ramoche Temple.
Yours My smile blends into Everest,
My soul is buried in Nyenchen Tanglha.
I lie drunk on the yellow sand, with residual wine dripping, dripping around me,
The once-in-a-thousand-year dream has lost its prosperity.
Tick-tick, tick-tick...
It's the apricot blossoms in the south of the Yangtze River. The spring rain keeps falling.
The alleys At the end, there is a cup of new tea waiting to be drunk.
The host bows his head and wraps her handkerchief around her in silence.
Even if we are still far away from each other in this life,
she still I am willing to leave a home for his soul.
He is far away in his hometown, wandering around,
Watching the swallows flying gracefully,
A touch of the west Caixia,
There is an extra care in the steps.
Time is the white horse passing by the door,