The feeling of reading poetry smells the taste of childhood.
Author: Woods
Stop and go to the balcony.
Like a ghost
severe winter
No moonlight
The midnight bell has gone.
I don't want to sleep or write.
I want to give this cold night some warmth.
Holding a blanket, remembering the sunshine.
And the sun
Bronze rocking chair
If this rocking chair
This is a swing.
I am a skirt under the swing.
You look handsome in that dress.
Affectionate play?
With the coming of summer, a rare earthquake broke out in China. In the daily live TV broadcast, those ruins, those bloody bodies and those crying faces make everyone with conscience feel anxious and extremely painful. In this atmosphere, I cry and tremble. I'd rather my eyes couldn't see anything at this moment. I'd rather it was just a dream. In order to stop my sadness and make myself more confident to face the future life, I turned my attention to poetry-I am the most loyal, the most secretive and the most comforting friend.
At this time, I read Woods' poem "But Smell Childhood". Really like a dream, a distant and ethereal dream, cruising between ancient and modern, shuttling back and forth between reality and abstraction. I followed her words as if I had entered another dynasty. The son is affectionate and the young lady is interested, which is a beautiful and desirable picture.
The text of this poem is easy to understand. We know that it is often plain text, which is easier to get involved in our hearts, and makes us willing to go with it and go to a dark, unknown and distant place in our hearts. The first three sections describe a quiet night for us: the bell has gone, the cold wind is chilly, and a ghostly person is standing on the balcony, wandering, staring and meditating. This is a real scene, and it is also a scene that anyone around us can experience. Next time, the poet leads us into her dream. I understand that this is a dream that has occupied her heart for a long time, nostalgia for classicism, yearning for romantic love and questioning the ultimate truth. On a cold night, I miss one person and two people in a distant dynasty. The swing floats or stands still quietly. Women wear reed skirts and walk leisurely. She looked around and made her eyes flow. She is looking for another man, the handsome, elegant and affectionate son. Many women have had such dreams, but in the poet's pen, I read a kind of slender, a kind of loneliness, a kind of warmth and a kind of shyness. This is an exciting feeling, this is my favorite poem, it gives me a feeling.
After reading this poem, I wonder, what kind of woman is Woods? Wearing a veil Elegant and mysterious? Gentle and affectionate? Or naughty, the woman around us? I haven't felt this way for a long time. Slowly and quietly, I followed a poem to that dark place, winding and stopping. Finally, I saw a woman with a shy smile, and her eyes were suddenly enlightened and infinitely beautiful.
Let's stay in forget the sorrow for a while in this beautiful world. This is what poetry taught me, and this is poetry, which has always led me.