Appreciation of Modern Poetry: Mom, I want to tell you.

The second day of April is my mother's birthday. I want to dedicate this group of poems to my most respected mother. Happy birthday!

I'm not Gao Yubao.

But I really can't afford it.

The kerosene lamp at home can be turned off.

The bread at home can be darker.

Father's illness can be alleviated.

But I can't help reading.

The idea of leaving school

I'll lie down by the fire and cry.

You didn't drink soup with a straight face.

It's getting dark. Let's fight the famine.

The moon is black-headed, empty-handed and anxious.

I trotted back from Dazhuang.

Fall into a small river ditch

Aunt helped you come back.

You are soaked to the skin.

Blood runs down my calf.

Curse the cruel housekeeper cock.

You have been moaning all night.

Used for sore legs and feet

For the sadness of life

in the rain

A turbid heart

Cann't tie her faltering steps

The rain soaked her bloody knees.

It also soaked my fragile heart.

Torrential rain

Mom's here.

She surveyed the country road eight miles away.

Walking all the way in fear and trembling.

Barefoot came to the window where my son was reading.

Mother is standing outside the classroom.

I had a meal with my son in my arms for a week.

Wandering footsteps cut off all the sound sources in the room.

All eyes are respectful.

Walk up to my mother in surprise.

Panicked, her calloused hands

Panic. Her hands are tight.

A heavy bamboo basket

Sweet potato noodles that love to eat noodles

Hiding shyly in the basket

Happiness and pain stick together.

I want to say nothing.

I take care of my anxiety with guilt.

Jump to the door in one step

Let the rain push the tide.

Dry slowly

quiveringly

I took the rations that my mother painstakingly managed.

I also received her long advice and wishes.

The rain hasn't stopped yet

Mom is leaving again.

Because my father has been ill for a long time

Call her at the bedside.

When mom left.

tell me

Everything is fine at home.

Study hard.

Don't worry.

Mom is gone.

Take away my wordless sadness

Leave me with infinite thoughts

Spinning wheel in the moonlight

The moonlight is very cold.

Oil lamps are like beans.

Mother sat cross-legged.

A spinning wheel is spinning with thick moonlight.

Abstraction to concreteness

Mother has cotton wool in her hand.

Rough dry crack

Covered with calluses like elm bark.

Pain and sorrow follow the spinning wheel.

Smart flight

Granularity integration

Shasha moonlight

I must work in the fields at dawn.

From dawn to dusk

Go to the full moon west building

Mother's spinning wheel is stubborn and tenacious.

Mother's hands trembled in the rustling wind.

Extract continuous silk silkworm light.

Mom's frozen hands occasionally stop.

Haha hot gas

Look at my father who is ill in bed.

For the son of my dreams

Knee tuck angle

The spinning wheel in his hand turned willfully again.

Mother's wish for winter.

Is to spin a warm spring

Mother and son say to you

You get off the low stool.

It takes a lot of effort to stand up.

Mom, you are getting older and older.

Your fingers become stiff.

Your steps are getting heavier and heavier.

You cook soup in pain.

Painfully brush the pot and wash the dishes

You can't forget your work in the theater.

You suck the last silk thread out of your body like a silkworm.

I am not a good son.

most of the time

I am stubborn and willful.

If you want to exercise, close the door.

I risk being scolded again.

Open the window at midnight to get some air.

Tap the poetic stars with a cold keyboard.

That time

You told a friend behind my back.

I have nothing to give up in this world.

But I can't worry about this child.

He is not sensible and obedient.

If I leave,

You are his relative.

Be sure to take care of him.

Mom, I made you angry.

I walked willfully with tears in my eyes.

I want to go to the warm sunshine.

I want to go to the fresh grassland.

I want to smooth your painful wrinkles.

I want to dye your bright white hair green.