Modern poems written by myself 1 cold despair
Struggling in a lonely and trembling soul
Like a kite with a broken thread
You shout: come back, come back.
It is willing to bear all the heart injuries alone.
Fly to the distance
The remaining thread in your hand feels your residual temperature.
Even if it's scarred
It is also willing.
Wandering alone in this empty city.
The rain rang in my heart all night.
It's still rocking.
Originally simple, happy and naive.
Now it's smooth, unexpected and complicated.
Put down the text
Left too many sad memories.
Time flies in a blink of an eye.
After youth, I feel wrinkles are too deep.
Eastside
Alone in the attic
Cold despair
Modern poems written by myself.
Night arrival again
The moon is like a sharp sword with cold light.
Memories of long separation fade away on rice paper.
Years of scars
stop
Too much attachment is no longer attached.
Youth is too late.
Pens and ink have been put aside for too long.
I'm on a warm table by candlelight.
Suddenly, I was disappointed.
The piano has been playing.
Play a plaintive voice
Flowers fall with the water
Beautiful tears.
In this story, I understand.
Kneel before the Buddha and pray for a thousand years.
Sadness flooded thousands of feet.
You are still as cold as ice.
My own modern poems. Bad luck in life.
From sentient beings to ruthless cold rain
Leave a trace of sadness.
People from Moss to Fahua
Deduced the meeting and parting.
The sunset closes the lonely door.
The sailing ship broke down in the afterglow of the sunset.
Memories of the past turned into injuries.
Your feelings
It will definitely be the' doom' of my life.
A broken and continuous string
I can't play like crazy anymore.
Hear the sound of hooves.
Is to repay others.
Or passers-by passing by
It's hard to tell what he looks like at night.
Feelings have been brewing in my heart for a long time.
Modern Poems Written by Yourself 4 Late Autumn
Late autumn with yellow flowers piled up
Who is waiting nearby?
Who is reading foolishly?
People waiting for life and death together.
Waiting for a lifetime of love
I burned incense in my last life and touched you in this life.
You have sent me a love affair in your life.
It is Yue Lao who tied the wrong red line.
Or fate?
We met in the vast sea of people.
Farewell again in the vast sea of people
All feelings have turned into nothingness.
The story of the world of mortals goes by with time.
A gloomy heart.
Modern poems written by myself 5 variegated stories
Ye Cheng Cheng is empty.
I can't avoid meeting.
A story with mottled rings
I met a wine singer.
Wine is flying in my mind.
The past came to my mind.
I'm a little lonely and sad.
Youth strays into samsara and becomes barren.
Walk in but can't walk out
In a blink of an eye, it is another year of vicissitudes.
Boundless world of mortals
Everyone is a passer-by
Everywhere but nowhere to meet.
Fate is like tea.
Superficiality of interpersonal relationship
Restaurants are boring.
Life is full of ups and downs.
How many meditations does the pen outline?
In the bitter wine of the fleeting time
After drinking all the bitterness.
Turn around, towards the distant.
Slowly disperse
Modern Poems Written by Yourself 6 Memories
Memories are like quicksand.
The tighter you hold it.
The faster time passes.
This road seems more and more strange.
Turn around suddenly
An unfamiliar journey
A heart that was originally intact was finally scarred.
No matter how deep your feelings are, you can't reach the cruel reality.
The incense I burned turned into cold ashes in the incense burner.
Your feelings can't wait for the voice of the world.
Boundless huge crowd
No one can understand the cuckoo crying again.
Dreams fail.
You and I are drifting away
Missed countless times in the crowd.
After thousands of turns, we finally met.
Now he turned and left.
Leave me alone to taste the desolation of this season.
People come and go.
review
Who is not scarred all the way?
Modern poems written by myself 7 Jiangnan in dreams
Jiangnan, a dreamland with water.
Whispering softly is like misty rain
With blue tiles and black hair.
White walls and delicate skin
The eyes of the bridge are soft.
There was the slow paddle of canoes.
Jiangnan is full of water.
Jiangnan is full of water.
Wicker cigarettes are soft and graceful.
Some people say that Jiangnan is the hometown of water.
Some people say that Jiangnan is
The feeling of a person's dream
Say Jiangnan, remember Jiangnan.
Zhen Wu yue chun Qiu
Look back at the place where the fireworks fell.
How many people come and go?
How many broken hearts are there?
Modern Poetry Written by Yourself 8 Spring Rain
Continuous spring rain
This is your beautiful oath
Raised again.
Shan Ye, the desolate south of the Yangtze River.
Trickle stream
It is the delicate toe of Jiangnan.
Buds are also covered with branches.
Suck the rain and dew
The crisp songs of birds.
This is the note of spring.
Spring rain is a string.
Listen to an ancient rhyme, Jiangnan doesn't imitate you.
My own modern poem 9 is missing.
Separated by Wan Li
I heard your heartbeat.
You say,
That's the heart.
Separated by a vast ocean ― far apart.
I heard your voice.
You say,
This is the information brought by the monsoon.
I saw you clearly on the screen.
You say,
That's a memory in my dream.
Through thirty years of time and space
Close your eyes.
A fresh you will be born in my heart.
Your face
Your words
And your breath.
It has been deeply imprinted in my mind.
I want to use quantum technology to convey my thoughts.
I want to see you cross just visiting.
I think-
Turn the corner this winter.
I will definitely visit you.
Modern poems written by myself outside the window 10.
Open the window at night.
The scenery outside the window fell asleep quietly with memories.
Pale and tired moonlight
Wandering in the dream with broken wings.
The fallen leaves fell on the branches.
The end of the eye curled up into gray.
The light of the trees forgotten during the day.
Open your hazy eyes
Crowded footprints behind the tree road
Pick up scars, painful confusion
Crazy window lattice
Follow the injured wind
A scene full of melancholy.
Looking up at the moldy fairy tale, swaying in the imagination.
That's the world outside the window