What kind of dream was that? Too late to recall, the darkness has been intoxicated in the storm. Rain is like a mask of the night, torn to pieces by the strong wind.
On such a night, the stars are hidden. If my dream becomes a sweetheart to pick me up, will I be jealous at night? Chapter 5: The Mind of the Wind In winter, it is the fault of struggle whether the wind comes quietly or whether the children of the wind hold hands between heaven and earth and get up early at freezing point in the morning. There is a beautiful dream on the bed. If hunger didn't conquer the cold street, how could we meet? Last year's feathers were so warm. Continuing today's topic, the love triangle between the destroyer Feng and Xue Feng and the rain was uncovered at this moment. After we left, there was still the infatuation of waiting. We didn't see the ice and snow. Carve your face in spring, tears melt you and snow. Chapter 6: "Spring Breeze" Don't encourage yourself to lose yourself for the sensational wind. Don't worry about making mistakes again and again. Stop, carve your voice and smile for a moment. How to identify the concentration of love in your trance? It is difficult to warm the sun. It is difficult for you to express your feelings when you are helpless and sympathetic. Will you omit many words or be speechless? Green all over the earth, beautiful colors blend with magnificent rivers and mountains again. Chapter VII: "The wind continues to blow" The lake is calm. When the wind continues to blow, the sunset is like a rootless tree. Swallows pass through the gray sky and towering roofs, and herringbone symbols are like Oracle bones that have passed through time and space. I want to go back like this and watch the familiar Beidou eat until tears flow down, and the barking of dogs in the early morning disturbs this sleepless night like living. The flowers at that time were very beautiful. The moon is very round, and the wind continues to blow, making the turbid years clearer and the desolate outline of my hometown clearer. Man is still a kind and distant reed. Chapter 8: In the windy season, the warm spring breeze stirred my heart and took away many people who resolutely wandered. Isn't this charming spring extravagant enough? It was a long time ago that I stood at the peak and learned a lot; The smoke in summer is like a hot whirlpool, and I see a temptation in the red dust heat wave. Is it like the splendor of gold powder and the confusion of smoke and dust? Still believe that there is a style that belongs only to you; The cool autumn wind is deep and soft, like fallen leaves knocking at someone's dream at the window, like poetry, which is always read in a hurry and no longer confused. If it is beautiful, it can be said in an understatement. The cold wind in winter seems to be silent at the bottom of the wrist, counting how time flies. Looking back, looking back, taking away is still brown loneliness ... Chapter 9: "Winter wind" Winter wind is very annoying. It happened that it came to shake down a priceless golden tree in this season, leaving a desolate place. Sadly, even the grass lying on the roadside buried its head in the ground to avoid disaster. Let you scream and take care of your deep sleep. Is the girl who ignores grievances the most. It's a waste that you came. I look like a chubby person. Who dares to love the most pitiful thing? Grandma, whose hands and feet are torn and soaked in blood, has to go up the mountain to cut wood and grow vegetables in winter. Nobody likes you, and nobody likes to expand information. Modern poetry, also known as new poetry, refers to the influence of the May 4th Movement on China people. It is a new style poem that adapts to the requirements of the times, reflects real life with the vernacular close to the masses, expresses the revolutionary content of science and democracy, and breaks the shackles of old-style poems with metrical form as the main symbol.
1953 used the name "Modern Poetry Society" for the first time-it was established when Ji Xian founded the "Modern Poetry Society". There are many ways to classify poems, which can be divided into different categories according to different principles and standards.
Basically divided into: classical poetry and modern poetry. Among them, modern poetry is divided into modern style poetry and modern metrical poetry.
Modern poetry and metrical poetry are divided according to the harmony degree of poetic language rhythm, whether it is general harmony or very harmony (the highest harmony). (1) Modern Poetry: As far as literary genre is concerned, Modern Poetry is a language art that takes China vernacular as the carrier and reproduces the lyricism of life with the universal harmony of language rhythm.
The masterpiece is Sister by Yu Shui, a contemporary poet in China. (2) Modern metrical poetry: As far as literary genre is concerned, modern metrical poetry is a language art that takes China vernacular as the carrier and reproduces the lyricism of life with the highest harmony of language rhythm.
The metrical requirements of modern metrical poems are the same as those of classical metrical poems, such as defining words, sentences, stanzas, grades and rhymes. Narrative poetry and lyric poetry are divided according to the expression of the content of the work.
(1) Narrative Poetry: Poetry contains relatively complete story lines and characters, which are usually expressed by the poet's passionate singing. Epic, story poem and poetic novel all belong to this category.
Ancient Greek Homer's epics such as Heriat and Odyssey; China poet Li Ji's Wang Gui and Li Xiangxiang and other story poems; Don Juan by British poet Byron and yevgeni onegin by Russian poet Pushkin. (2) Lyrics: It mainly reflects the social life by directly expressing the poet's thoughts and feelings, and does not require complete stories and characters.
Such as love songs, carols, elegies, elegies, pastoral songs, satirical poems, etc. There are many such works, so I won't list them one by one.
Of course, narration and lyricism are not absolutely separated. Narrative poetry is also lyrical, but its lyricism requires close combination with narrative.
Lyric poems often describe some fragments of life, but they can't be spread out, and they must obey the needs of lyricism. Metric poetry, free verse, prose poetry and prosodic poetry are classified according to the phonological rhythm and structural form of the language of the work.
(1) Metric poetry: It is a poem written according to certain formats and rules. Good for poetry.
2. A modern poem describing the wind, Xu Zhimo's poem "I don't know the wind"
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow—
In my dream,
In the light waves of dreams.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow—
In my dream,
Her tenderness, my intoxication.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow—
In my dream,
Sweetness is the brilliance of dreams.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow—
In my dream,
Her ingratitude, my sadness.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow—
In my dream,
Heartbroken in the sadness of dreams!
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow—
In my dream,
Hazy is the light in a dream.
3. Modern poetic style of writing style: When writing poetry in June, the strong wind finally blew, accompanied by convective rain in the south equator. First, the Yangtze River was filled, and then half of it was left to the Yellow River. After entering the border town of Shihezi, there are many winds blowing on the distant riverbed of Mahe River, so we have to use wind energy to find happiness from a distant height. Gurbantunggut Desert is horizontal and flat in the abdomen of ancient wasteland. Everything is calm. In fact, there are other flowers behind the wind, and the fruits that reach the north are still on the way-the footsteps are low to the north, and the sheep that have been driven away have gone. They are walking towards the lowlands by the river, and wormwood has been waiting quietly for a long time. When the season of death comes, the descendants of wormwood inherit the names of their ancestors. After the wind blew away the pain of the soil, they raised their heads, and the sheep slowly approached the cow and pulled the wooden cart. Chewing on a dry grass cart full of his wife and children last night, no one knows which generation handed down that shabby wooden cart. The cleverest third master with white beard walked in front of the sheep and went north. A hidden flower blooms in the distance. Insects in wormwood sat in the silence of the earth, whispering that the wind overflowed the lowlands of sheep, and the river took a wormwood leisurely away.
4. A modern poem about the wind, 1, no one has ever seen the wind.
Author: Ye Shengtao
No one has ever seen the wind.
Needless to say, I support you.
But when the leaves tremble,
We know it's windy there.
No one has ever seen the wind.
Needless to say, you and I
But when the trees nod,
We know the wind will pass.
No one has ever seen the wind.
Needless to say, you and I
But when the river wrinkles,
We knew the wind was coming to play.
2. "I don't know which direction the wind blows."
Author: Xu Zhimo
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow?
In my dream,
In the light waves of dreams.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow?
In my dream,
Her tenderness, my intoxication.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow?
In my dream,
Sweetness is the brilliance of dreams.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow?
In my dream,
Her ingratitude, my sadness.
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow?
In my dream,
Heartbroken in the sadness of dreams!
I don't know the wind
Which direction does it blow?
In my dream,
Hazy is the light in a dream.
3. The wind in the sky
Author: Xi Murong
The wind in the sky does not tie the reins.
We cannot exist on the ground forever.
Only this moment. Only this moment.
Can be deeply injected into a song.
My hot and lonely soul
Maybe you will.
A singer who burst into tears
Just for the vast wilderness, the starry sky is still brilliant.
In that song that has been sung for thousands of years
It's the joys and sorrows of life.
Maybe you can still see it vaguely.
At the moment, I am riding away.
That reluctant review
Or in the vast place where grass is far from emptiness
4. American outlaws
Author: Xi Murong
The birthplace of sandstorms has a name.
Father said, ah, that's your hometown.
Grassland beyond the Great Wall, away from Wan Li.
Mom said that a name has only one memory.
When the wind blows, homesickness rises.
When feng shui falls, there is nowhere to stop in my hometown.
Looking for clouds, wandering eagles
My wave is not just a phone call.
Please let me cross the sky with you.
Fly to that vivid mountain.
A place I have never seen before is actually my hometown.
All knowledge has only one name.
I can't find my way in this gloomy city.
Father, mother.
That name is a thorn in my heart.
5. The Wind
Author: Nishikawa
The forest was silent before the wind blew.
Sunlight and clouds in front of the wind
It's easy to be ignored, as if they didn't
Necessity of existence
People who walked through the Woods before the wind blew.
Is a person without memory.
hermit
We won't know until the wind blows.
It is the winter wind that blows harder.
Or is the wind blowing harder in summer?
I haven't been to that forest for three years.
I went there after the wind blew.
5. The beautiful poetic style of modern poetry writing "Feng"
The wind caressed the crops, sometimes bent and sometimes lifted, as if the earth was breathing rhythmically, and the mature wheat was full of vitality. Where does the wind come from? There is a whisper among the wheat ears.
Dragon species in Zhang Xianliang
I keep my mouth shut, but the wind is like a powerful hand, choking my breath and forcing me to open my mouth from time to time. At this time, it will also raise a handful of dirt into my mouth, similar to a naughty child.
Yang Shuo's The Dust Settles.
spring breeze
On a bright afternoon in March, the air really blends together. A warm breeze is brewing somewhere, with an unpredictable drunkenness, which makes people feel strange and comfortable, but at the same time it seems to be in a daze trying to snuggle up with space.
Ni Yide's first love
The spring breeze in February, warm and humid during the day, blows on the face, but it is a bit like the smell of cotton tidbits blowing on the face; But at night, especially late at night, it's a bit like scissors. The night wind fluttered on the beach, and the willow trees on the beach danced hard with her tender and oily branches like drunk.
Five waterwheels in Lee Joon
"Blow your face without cold willows" is good, like a mother's hand stroking you. The wind brought the smell of new ploughing, mixed with the smell of grass, and the fragrance of various flowers, all brewing in the slightly humid air.
Zhu Ziqing's Spring
Overnight, the spring breeze came. Suddenly, it rolled in from the vast grasslands and deserts outside the Great Wall. Jumping over the ravine, over the ridge, into the ravine, irrigating the mountain pass, screaming and blowing the horn, roaring and roaring, flying sand and stones, flapping on the window, flapping on Sarah's face, like countless needles.
Spring breeze in Lin Jinlan
Summer wind
The wind is coming.
First of all, a gentle breeze blew from the northwest beach, gently rolled up Nightcrawler's skirt and teased the dead leaves on the road. There was a slight rustle in the wilderness. After a while, the wind was very strong, and the sorghum on the roadside swayed wildly, and the dead branches on the trees fell off one after another. A terrible howl came from the distant wilderness and the clouds became deeper. The rumbling thunder seems to have rushed out of the heavy encirclement of dark clouds, and it is like an explosion, rolling in from the northwest.
On the banks of the Jun Qing at dawn.
Summer evening. Waves of gentle little north wind floated from Wanda Valley and swept Mudanjiang, blowing the fragrance in the orchard, the coolness on the river and the slightest waves into Longquan Town, Jiang Nanan. Gradually, the heat and noise in the town subsided. Poplars and weeping willows on the roadside, lilacs and begonia in the yard, all woke up from the drowsiness in the hot summer. The breeze rustled among the green leaves and the flowers floated quietly under the eaves. Everything is pleasant and quiet. The whole town lined up along the river, like a giant lying on his back, is using all its body and mind to feel the elegance of the evening breeze and enjoy the faint fragrance and moist coolness in the wind.
Lucky man in Liu Yazhou.
autumn wind
The autumn wind, like a stroke of genius, painted the mountains and forests in Xing 'an Mountains with golden yellow, crimson, pale pink and mottled dark green. The annual Wanghuashan season has arrived. This month, the river is particularly cold, and the slight waves are flashing. The sky is particularly clear, with only a few faint clouds. You see, the dense tall cypresses and golden crowns on the cliff are like clouds of Huang Chengcheng smoke; Oak branches scattered on the slope beam are like piles of red and bright bonfires. Birch trees covered in gullies and valleys are like clouds and snow.
In the autumn forest, everything is full of mysterious and deep colors.
Jia Fei's snow shakes blue
The cold wind in late autumn swept the yellow grass with light snow and flew into the distance. The drooping cloud kissed its sister-the gray smoke dancing in the wind. But we love this bleak autumn wind. In its deep and desolate singing, we heard perseverance and unyielding, and felt the strength and struggle of life, ideal poetry and youthful passion.
Kobayashi's farewell
A cool autumn wind blew off withered catalpa bungeana leaves. Ye Can doesn't like to follow suit. Then, the wind whirled, rushed into the village from the mountain and swept into the yard from the street. The leaves rustled as if they were crying sadly.
Feng Deying's "Kucaihua"
Winter wind
1February 4th is Santa Barbara Day, which is a festival to protect Santa Barbara whose soul died in heaven. Immediately after the Santa Barbara Festival, the first sudden and chaotic winter wind blew. The wind is flying on the ground, barking like a hound chasing a smelly track. The wind tore at the cultivated fields, roared around the jungle, scraped the snow, tore off the branches of the orchard, ran along the road and smelled the bromine in the stream; It didn't take much effort for the wind to destroy all the simple thatched roofs and fences everywhere. After that, the wind still roared, but fled to the forest. After the gale, in the evening, several huge winds emerged from the darkness; A long, pointed wind tongue sticks out from a wheezing mouth.
6. Modern poems about the wind, the wild west wind, and the breath of autumn life!
You are invisible, but the dead leaves are swept away by you.
It's like a ghost meets a wizard and has to escape:
Yellow, black, gray, red as tuberculosis,
Ah, a group of people who are seriously infected with the epidemic: Xifeng, it's you.
Destroy promising seeds with chariots.
On the bed in the dark winter, they just lie there,
Like a dead hole in the grave, cold, hidden and humble,
Wait until spring, when your beautiful sister blows.
Her trumpet resounded through the sleeping earth,
(Call out buds and feed in the air like sheep)
Let the mountains and plains be full of color and fragrance.
Free spirit, you travel everywhere;
Destroyer and Protector: Listen, you listen.
7. A modern poem describing the wind Part I: A gust of wind infected the whole room, and nothing existed for a long time, but memory knocked me down like this Part II: A whirlwind rolled loess leaves and flew to the sky to kiss the blue sky and white clouds. The road that the whirlwind passes through is cleaner and more beautiful in nature. Part III: The winter wind has dried the mountain. It won't dry up. It's a weak warm winter wind. Straw-blowing stems are full of longing for the future. The winter wind blew off the flowers, leaving a shadow in my heart. Blow it. Even if you blow water into ice, you are doomed to fail. Chapter 4: Does the howling of "gale" herald shanghai dawn? A gust of wind shook the branches of the struggling willow, and my dream was awakened.
What kind of dream was that? Too late to recall, the darkness has been intoxicated in the storm. Rain is like a mask of the night, torn to pieces by the strong wind.
On such a night, the stars are hidden. If my dream becomes a sweetheart to pick me up, will I be jealous at night? Chapter 5: The Mind of the Wind In winter, it is the fault of struggle whether the wind comes quietly or whether the children of the wind hold hands between heaven and earth and get up early at freezing point in the morning. There is a beautiful dream on the bed. If hunger didn't conquer the cold street, how could we meet? Last year's feathers were so warm that they continued today's tossing and turning topic. The love triangle between Feng, Xue Feng destroyer and Yu was uncovered at this moment. After the cold is gone, there is still waiting for infatuation without looking back. Didn't see the ice and snow, spring carved your face, tears melted you and snow. Chapter 6: "Spring Breeze" Don't encourage yourself to lose yourself for the sensational wind. Don't worry about making mistakes again and again. Stop, carve your voice and smile for a moment. How to identify the concentration of love in your trance? It is difficult to warm the sun. It is difficult for you to express your feelings when you are helpless and sympathetic. Will you omit many words or be speechless? It's a pity that we can't find cultivated soil today, rendering endless feelings to full of green, spreading beautiful colors all over the earth, and remixing magnificent rivers and mountains. Chapter 7: When the lake is calm and the wind continues to blow, the setting sun is like a rootless tree. Swallows fly across the gray sky and towering roofs, and herringbone symbols are like Oracle bones that have crossed time and space. I want to go back like this and watch the familiar Beidou full of food until the tears cross the morning. The barking of dogs at midnight disturbed this sleepless night, as if many years ago. At that time, the flowers were in good bloom. At that time, the moon was very round, and the wind continued to blow, which made the turbid years clearer and made the desolate outline of my hometown clearer. People are still kind and distant reeds. Chapter 8: In the windy season, the warm spring breeze inspired my soul and took away many people who resolutely wandered. Isn't this charming spring scenery extravagant enough? It was a long time ago that I stood at the peak and learned a lot; The smoke in summer is like a hot whirlpool, and I see a temptation in the red dust heat wave. Is it like the splendor of gold powder and the confusion of smoke and dust? Still believe that there is a style that belongs only to you; The cool autumn wind is deep and soft, like fallen leaves knocking at someone's dream at the window, like poetry, which is always read in a hurry and no longer confused. If it is beautiful, it can be said in an understatement. The cold wind in winter seems to be silent at the bottom of the wrist, counting how time flies. Looking back, looking back, taking away is still brown loneliness ... Chapter 9: "Winter wind" Winter wind is very annoying. It happened that it came to shake down a priceless golden tree in this season, leaving a desolate place. Sadly, even the grass lying on the roadside buried its head in the ground to avoid disaster. Let you scream and take care of your deep sleep. Is the girl who ignores grievances the most. It's a waste that you came. I look like a chubby person. Who dares to love the most pitiful thing? Grandma, whose hands and feet are torn and soaked in blood, has to go up the mountain to cut wood and grow vegetables in winter. Nobody likes you, and nobody likes to expand information. Modern poetry, also known as new poetry, refers to the influence of the May 4th Movement on China people. It is a new style poem that adapts to the requirements of the times, reflects real life with the vernacular close to the masses, expresses the revolutionary content of science and democracy, and breaks the shackles of old-style poems with metrical form as the main symbol.
1953 used the name "Modern Poetry Society" for the first time-it was established when Ji Xian founded the "Modern Poetry Society". There are many ways to classify poems, which can be divided into different categories according to different principles and standards.
Basically divided into: classical poetry and modern poetry. Among them, modern poetry is divided into modern style poetry and modern metrical poetry.
Modern poetry and metrical poetry are divided according to the harmony degree of poetic language rhythm, whether it is general harmony or very harmony (the highest harmony). (1) Modern Poetry: As far as literary genre is concerned, Modern Poetry is a language art that takes China vernacular as the carrier and reproduces the lyricism of life with the universal harmony of language rhythm.
The masterpiece is Sister by Yu Shui, a contemporary poet in China. (2) Modern metrical poetry: As far as literary genre is concerned, modern metrical poetry is a language art that takes China vernacular as the carrier and reproduces the lyricism of life with the highest harmony of language rhythm.
The metrical requirements of modern metrical poems are the same as those of classical metrical poems, such as defining words, sentences, stanzas, grades and rhymes. Narrative poetry and lyric poetry are divided according to the expression of the content of the work.
(1) Narrative Poetry: Poetry contains relatively complete story lines and characters, which are usually expressed by the poet's passionate singing. Epic, story poem and poetic novel all belong to this category.
Ancient Greek Homer's epics such as Heriat and Odyssey; China poet Li Ji's Wang Gui and Li Xiangxiang and other story poems; Don Juan by British poet Byron and yevgeni onegin by Russian poet Pushkin. (2) Lyrics: It mainly reflects the social life by directly expressing the poet's thoughts and feelings, and does not require complete stories and characters.
Such as love songs, carols, elegies, elegies, pastoral songs, satirical poems, etc. There are many such works, so I won't list them one by one.
Of course, narration and lyricism are not absolutely separated. Narrative poetry is also lyrical, but its lyricism requires close combination with narrative.
Lyric poems often describe some fragments of life, but they can't be spread out, and they must obey the needs of lyricism. Metric poetry, free verse, prose poetry and prosodic poetry are classified according to the phonological rhythm and structural form of the language of the work.
(1) grid.
8. Modern poems describing the wind. The wind in summer.
One afternoon, it was very hot. After cutting rice for a long time, my back ached and I felt dizzy. Sweat has soaked my clothes and stuck to me, making me feel almost suffocated.
I straightened up to catch my breath. Suddenly, a breeze gently blew on my face, hit my chest, slapped my heart, kissed my cheek, stroked my skirt and infiltrated every pore. It was so comfortable that I stopped working, stretched my limbs and stood motionless in the wind, slightly closed my eyes, and let the wind blowing from nowhere blow away one after another.
This thrilling wind is so gentle and considerate. The wind is not strong, but the poplar trees on both sides of the road not far away make a pleasant rustling sound inspired by it. The combination of touch and hearing is more intoxicating.
After a busy day, I always like to wander aimlessly against the wind, or along the path in the field or by the shallow river. The wind caresses me gently, just like a collector caresses his beloved clay pot. When it blows over leaves and rocks, it is as full of love as it touches our cheeks. It comforts us with a sweet voice, just like a mother serenading at the cradle.