Accompanied by words, the years are fragrant, written everywhere, and always fragrant into words; A song, after listening, is imaginative; A gust of wind blows, and my heart fluctuates; When the rain comes, lean against the window and listen to the rain, pen;
Snow, snow, plum, poetry;
Before the flowers under the moon, put pen to paper into poetry;
In the elegant ink paintings, I live a rich life and a Zen life.
Mo Xiang years, poetic fleeting time,
Holding the years in the left hand and the words in the right hand,
Carry each other;
Text edge, text edge,
Dance with words and sleep with poetry.
Follow the shadow and live in peace with the cloud.
I envy the love of the older generation. Nothing before and after, vows of eternal love. Meeting is a lifetime, holding hands is a lifetime. It seems dull, but it's actually a long day.
Love starts from the corner of the eye and runs to the sideburns. It seems a short distance, but it takes a lifetime to reach it. All feelings come out of intimacy and eventually become distressed and worried.
I will consider being a man instead of writing poetry tonight.
Be a man with a clear conscience
No matter how beautiful poetry is, it is also the embodiment of words.
Lost the fundamental and exquisite words of being a man
Is a soulless zombie.
Withered body and empty soul.
No matter how cold the cold night is, a conscience is as warm as spring.
Fireworks in full bloom are just brilliant flashes.
But it has blinded the innocence of many flower lovers.
Write poetry with a poetic heart and be grateful.
I am willing to be the innocent flower watcher.
Swear that the "pure heart" will last forever.
Watching the fireworks go out in the dark.
Wait for the man who set off fireworks.
Tell him frankly that time does not necessarily bring love.
But it is enough to witness a person's falsehood and conscience. ......
bonus
Time is not old, we will not leave.
Text/dream of flying
Time is like a song, life is like a dream, and every dull day leaves a mark on my forehead inadvertently, turning around and leaving with the wind! Like a cloud of smoke, it is also illusory and true. Every time I forget myself, I take away the time that has passed away because of the years, but I can't take away the poems that are integrated into my heart. Time is old, the poems in my heart will never be old, the poems will never be old, and the time in my heart will never be old!
Trying to walk into the palace of modern poetry, I seem to be in an unspeakable world of words. I like his freedom and boldness, and love can't be drawn in his language charm. I was even more impressed by his unconstrained style and twists and turns. Walking into poetry and modern poetry, there is always a feeling of youth without regret. Yes, people may be old, but the words left in this world will never be old. Why don't I leave a touch of ink? The desire in my heart makes me much younger. I am climbing hard and dreaming of being a little closer to the breath of modern poetry. I am not afraid of people's words, nor of the rapids of rivers. As long as I can make a stunning poem, I would like to stop in the warm harbor of modern poetry and never wake up!
In a society where poets are like the sea, and in a world where modern poetry is nurtured, I admire writers like Yu Xiuhua who dare to sleep with you for more than half a century, and even more admire the "settled straw" of Mongolian grassland poet Yan Nanfei. I can't say why. This is the modern flavor, the soul of modern poetry.
Approached, read you, modern poetry, the road is still far, and emotions have to be brewed, but I am really deeply attached to him. Modern poetry is like a mirror, more like a March of the times, stepping on a young and powerful pace, talking and singing a young and promising history. Why not give life a satisfactory answer? When I am old, I can still vaguely remember you, the shadow of modern poetry!
I think, at that time, we will really say that time is not old, we will not leave, we will not leave, poetry is not old!