In a song entitled "Events. Writing ",the poet Yu Jian made an in-depth and poetic discussion on this issue:" Writing is the most brilliant event of an era. The smooth road or trap of a word coming back from the dead/the great detail is that a word comes out of the cover and reaches the box of fate/writing is a forced activity. Escape is arrival/Nazi rule forced you to speak like a bee, forced you to make a nest with thorns/used March 5th as honey to arrange the subject and adverbial in the legal order by metaphor/"This aroused my enthusiasm and made me involuntarily look at those outstanding modern poets in China in my reading. I am curious to see how they can "talk like bees" and follow them all the way. "Individuality, creativity, pioneer, beauty ……" are all hidden between "cover" and "true colors", shining brightly and burning my heartfelt eulogy. They have benefited me a lot.
In my primary school Chinese textbook, there are some words: "It's cold. The leaves are yellow. Leaves fall from the tree. The sky is so blue and so high. A flock of geese flew to the south. Minute after minute and minute after minute. Ah! Autumn is here. " Talk about autumn, talk about geese flying south. By the same token, when we came to China poets, we said, "The fallen leaves have trembled for the last time/the flowers have disappeared in the blue eyes of the lake/the anvil sound in July has gone away/the warm geese in Liao country are not in the autumn sky/they have written their beautiful sonnets." (Yaxian's "Qiu Ge-Warm-up") As the saying goes, "You are not afraid of not knowing the goods, but you are afraid of comparing them". I will spare no effort to put out these two different statements, and readers with discerning eyes will naturally smile. That's what "fallen leaves" say. The former dryly states that "the leaves have fallen from the tree", while the latter vividly describes that "the leaves have finished their last trembling". The former tells directly: "Wild geese fly south", while the latter says: "Wild geese" wrote their beautiful sonnets in the sky in western Liaoning. Here, both poetry and non-poetry present their own characteristics to us. Both of them are related to the topic of "birds flying in the sky", and our Xuancheng poet Mr. Fang has two different sayings (or there are more different sayings besides my reading): "Groups of pictures embroidered/punched on the endless blue background jumped out of the door of the season/crossed the city/let countless eyes sing loudly" (Birds fly into the city, stars,16th in 995)
At this point, I think I can have a reason to say that writing is trying to say something different from others. The same is true of writing poetry. According to the law of beauty, write a unique sentence, branch, arrange and write it out. Taking China's modern poetry as an example, let's continue to investigate and see how those China poets are different. For example, the story of "Wild flowers bloom everywhere" described in Haizi's "Moving" is: "Wild flowers in the cave/follow me/burn till dawn/burn till dawn". Wildflowers in full bloom are a fire described by poets, which burns from underground to the ground, from hole to hole, and from night to dawn. The exuberance of flowers is like a burning fire, forcing the poet to say, "Wild flowers burn your face/you", which is very nervous and touching and deeply touched the readers. Besides, when it comes to Yaxian's snake clothes, it's very different: "My wife wants to wear flowers all over the world, not even half of them for the women in the neighborhood! /She embroidered another peacock on the cheongsam. In short, my wife thinks tailors are more important than the National Assembly. " In a few words, a woman who loves to dress up and thinks that "tailoring is more important than the national assembly" will always live in our hearts. Even a female ghost who hanged herself was written by love, and it was an extremely sad swan song: "She was/was lifted to/a very sad/serial". Such text examples can be found everywhere in China's modern poems. I even dare to say that there are as many China poets as there are in the world, and it is their pride to sprout branches in their beloved Chinese. Limited to space, I won't list them here.
Yu Er, a third-grade elementary school student, also began to learn to write a composition. This is the beginning of writing, and he stood at this starting point blankly, not knowing how to write. I told him to talk like a bee, but he didn't understand. Today, I want to send this essay to him, my good son, who will understand it one day.