The sky is high and blue.
The clouds are light and white.
The path in my hometown is so tortuous and endless.
I still miss my hometown in autumn.
Golden rice fields are carpets in my memory.
Red sorghum stands on the edge of the rice field.
I broke a sorghum stalk.
Slap with your mouth.
Suck out my childhood about sorghum.
The rustling autumn wind in Shan Ye
Call me and Lao Niu
The sweet potato on the cow's back is round.
The old cow turned around and took a bite of sweet potato.
I patted it gently.
It's greed to nag you.
The setting sun is slanting and hazy.
The cotton on the threshing floor is piled up like a mountain.
I plunged into the cotton pile.
I don't know how many times my mother paged me.
I stubbornly slept until the moon came out in the west.
Didn't open his eyes.
You have a bowl of rice in your hand.
This is a popular dinner for the production team in the 1970s.
It's a midnight snack for the male labor force of the production team.
My dad's delicious meal
I have been away from home for ten years.
I still remember the unforgettable autumn in my hometown and the midnight snack!
Autumn in my hometown
Autumn in my hometown
So beautiful
Like a married bride.
Be coated with
Thick and elegant pastel
The water in the pond
Laughed happily
That lively rainbow trout
Run into the pocket with a mesh
Fresh lotus root block
Wash your face with clean water
Clean clouds that show off all day.
No longer dare
Show whiteness in front of it
Sorghum in the field
Like a drunken red-faced man
Persimmons hanging on branches
Show orange
People in my hometown
White Baotou beating lamb belly
Let laughter be harvested.
Fly out of my arms
Autumn in my hometown (group poems)
introduce
Autumn in my hometown buried the bones of countless people.
The sun still rises and the moon still sets.
The crops are still growing, so am I.
Business as usual ...
grandpa
The day my grandfather left.
Grandpa has grown up.
That rainy autumn
Grandpa slapped the loess and fell down.
The last tear in my life
Spring came, autumn went, and Qiu Lai went in spring.
The deceased was buried in loess.
The living bury themselves in the loess.
Grandpa gritted his teeth.
Dig out food from the soil.
Fill our hunger.
The earth turns day after day.
Hungry children grow up slowly.
The day grandpa left.
We stood in his wheat field.
Cry silently
father
On a dark rainy night
The hungry father went to a distant place.
On another dark rainy night
Father brought back a bag of soybeans, full of our hopes.
My father lost the torch when he was looking for it.
We have food, but we have lost the torch and light.
The villagers continued to dig the loess and bury the bones.
Thunder swept across the sky and the earth began to tremble.
Rows of trees collapsed, crushing the kindness of farmers.
Time drives life relentlessly.
The farmer's son grew up with difficulty
Father's shoulder
Bend over and lean against the bag of soybeans.
It will never be straight again.
wheat
The fields in my hometown
Full of heavy ears of wheat
They are dressed in golden yellow.
Sing the harvest song together
I know, it's everywhere.
Surging gold
That's the cheap sweat of my ancestors.
It's autumn now
Mature season
Grandparents are old and dead.
The rest have no strength to appreciate.
Flowers that bloom for them
We have nothing to do.
No hoes on the shoulders, no cocoons on the hands.
Ann sits in the field in autumn.
Enjoy a bumper harvest and feel at ease
I see dirt.
Satirical poetry
fallen leaves
The day when autumn comes.
Branches discard leaves or
The leaves betrayed the branches.
Fell on the side of the road and turned into a corpse.
Let strangers and bugs.
Trample by
Autumn is a strange season.
In addition to harvest, there is also withering.
Smoke leaves firewood.
The fallen leaves left the branches.
Leave Shang Yun at sunset.
I left my hometown.
Fall down, fall down
It is the choice of reincarnation from generation to generation.
Or doomed to helplessness?
dusk
There is a civilized machine outside the window.
Break my dream
I saw my childhood.
Cut to pieces by the sword of fashion
Floating in the empty morning
The messenger of civilization holds pictures.
Straddle on a bulldozer
Crushed the paper plane my father gave me.
Sickle, erased by years.
The hoe hanging on the wall grows old in despair.
Grandpa's wheat field
Drive into a shiny asphalt road
The crow left the crops and flew to the end of the world.
Dew sang a black elegy for the crops.
Black rain in autumn
I smell dusk.
Like a tear.
It will soon dry up.
I stand alone in the autumn in my hometown.
Every inch of nerve resists the pace of winter.
Harvest the picture scroll embedded in history.
The ears of wheat only sway in memory.
Grandpa left, leaving his wheat field.
My father left me.
My dear hometown
One day I left, too.
Who else will stand in front of you
Sing loudly for you
Dress you.
I stand alone in the autumn in my hometown.
The evening breeze blows.
Blow away the yellow sun
Which pair of veterans are they?
Light autumn fireworks
Which route is the telephone?
Let me see autumn again.