Father and Grave Modern Poetry

Modern Poetry on Father and Grave 1

The earth rising from the hilltop

buried my close relatives deeply.

My ancestors!

I can only look for you in my dreams,

The face of my father’s love.

You occupy a precious place,

Living and chasing stars are burdened,

Dead and ignorant,

Your separation,

It is indeed our pain.

People say that heaven is good,

I went to heaven and got no response,

Heaven is not the United States,

God does not want war,

p>

Without the disturbance of gunshots,

The Soul Che’s hometown will not go crazy.

When alive, we are called mortals.

When we die, we become saints first.

We worship the sun during the Qingming Festival.

Those who come are descendants.

Living in the open air,

Dear mountain people,

It doesn’t matter what you eat,

Can you drink with your children and grandchildren?

p>

Drink it quickly,

Drink it and get drunk. < /p>

You have the greatest responsibility in your job.

It is my life for the common people.

You are responsible,

Leading the whole village,

Opening up land in the southern wilderness,

Farming in the northern wilderness,

Although there is no great wealth;

It is just food in the belly of the common people,

A living on the mouth.

You are the horse that plows the land,

the ox that plows the land,

the land is still there after people leave,

in my mind Here,

There is your lingering presence.

My father!

I want you to be my close friend,

I want you to hold my childlike hand,

I wonder what you are busy with?

I seem to be in the corner you forgot. < /p>

Have you forgotten us?

Youxing glanced at you vaguely in the dream,

I really miss you,

I can only see your returning figure through the window of dreams. .

Naive father,

You have worked hard,

Ushered in the trust of the villagers,

The villagers come to you for big and small matters.

You are their supporter.

My father who became ill from overwork,

We don’t want you to be like this,

You are a mortal who eats the fireworks of the world,

You are not a rescuer. Difficult Bodhisattva,

You are a liberated slave. Thank you,

There is a burning passion in your chest.

Children have different views on you,

Rats never dare to speak falsely,

A rebellious mentality surrenders,

No one can bear it It hurts family ties,

To be precise,

You are sentimental,

A person who doesn’t care about your family.

The sun is above your head,

Wearing the aura of the Communist Party,

There is a monument on the tomb,

It doesn’t matter if there is no monument

What matters is people’s recognition of you.

Kind old man,

Put down your baggage!

Stop blaming yourself?

The collective is poor,

The collective is hungry,

It is not your fault.

Love is crying;

The pain of sadness,

I miss you all over the place;

No longer lonely,

Children and grandchildren often come to see you,

There are flowers!

There is fine wine! Modern Poetry on Father and Grave 2

Father, I’m here to see you

Come and chat with you

The countryside has changed a lot, and what remains unchanged may be It's you who picked up the loess

How many years has it divided us into the underworld and the Yang world

Father, I tore down the earth-tile house you left and built it into a building

You were a plasterer when you were alive, but now you are called a cement worker

The wooden and iron pestles and siding boards you left behind

are no longer of use

p>

Father, the chair you bought, I replaced it with a sofa

The dining table you bought, I replaced it with a coffee table

The wooden bed you bought, I replaced it Simmons

The box you bought, I replaced it with a modular cabinet

The sickle you left behind is rusty because of the combine harvester

You The hoes left behind are rusty because of the use of herbicides

There are also columbians, rakes, and ox harnesses, whips and bridles

They have all become idle items

The wheat straw has been returned to the field

The stone drum is sleeping soundly in the village, just like you sleeping here

The mulberry leaves you left behind Forks, wooden shovels, etc. have also lost their use

Father, the thimble you bought for my mother, she no longer wears it

I bought her a ring

Mom doesn’t use the mallet and washboard you bought her anymore

I bought her a washing machine

I dismantled the cooktop you built and replaced it with a gas stove and induction cooker

The chimney you built no longer smokes, I installed a range hood

Tap water is available at home

The bucket and water you left behind Like my mother, I also rested for a while.

Father, the dirt road has been paved with cement road, which is accessible to every village and every household

I am no longer afraid of rain, and I will no longer step on the mud with my bare feet. No more worrying about feet being cut by stones and rubble

No more worrying about the extremely itchy "salt pimples" (a skin disease) caused by mud-covered feet

So, you The clogs you made and the rubber shoes you bought are no longer needed

Father, you left us many, many things that you once regarded as treasures

Now they are all useless Extra things

I threw them away, you won’t be angry, won’t you call me a prodigal?

Father, can you hear what I say to you?