Write modern poems about the land

Modern poems about land are as follows:

1, land

In spring, you gave flowers beauty, in autumn, you gave golden memories, spring flowers and autumn fruits, which are your eternal love. You make the world so beautiful. Land, affectionate land, you love the hard work of cultivators, you cherish the sweat of pioneers, you give the joy of harvest to Xinle people, to Xinle people, and you will hold mellow wine. Share your beautiful melody. Land, kind land, you are a great mother, selfless dedication, in order to raise children, unknown, dedicated her life's energy. Land, you are vast and broad-minded, and it is your original intention to tolerate everything.

2. Land

A group of children are rolling on the grass on the hillside, laughter is stirring in the sun, dragonflies are spreading their wings beautifully, and red and green clouds are passers-by on a leaf. I hurried through the mountains and disappeared. I often miss the hovering eagle. Now, the mountain is empty, and the smoke in my mother's kitchen is still in the blue sky. Lovers' footprints are all over the fields, and the dream of sickle harvesting will be cultivated again. But time, like colorful autumn leaves, I am the shadow on the land. My fruit has been collected by the earth, and the leaves falling on the Chinese fir tree have been slapped by the flame of childhood.

3, "Think about my land"

I dreamed of the hoarse whistle of the valve factory, the sigh of the river water brought by the morning breeze, the fiction of bird songs for many years, and the cicada clothes and thorns thousands of miles away. I thought of you, the barren fields, the disrepair roadbed, and the red azaleas all over the mountain. I have never left for millions of years. I thought of the tears of the silkworm girl, the crooked back of the charcoal seller, the heavy sigh of the old vegetable farmer, and the clouds in Guishan. Think of greasy yellow tickets, rich white duck mountain, machines roaring from all directions, blue brick wells, dilapidated school buildings, empty courtyards, and swallows returning to the south. You used to build a nest in spring, Macheng, my hometown, and your hat is so beautiful that you can't breathe. I want to see your smile, my dear land, this is the season of flowers flying.