Modern Poetry Expressing Fatherly Love

According to the article, fatherly love is profound, great, pure and unrequited, but it is bitter, incomprehensible, melancholy and unattainable. The following poems about father are for your appreciation.

Article 1 "Father and Village" The village is ancient, and the old people in the village never forget to struggle.

The barren land is malnourished and white.

The bent father's back is hard.

The shiny plow was embedded in his father's back, bleeding.

Father is trying to save.

The dying land is getting old.

Father of rural land

This is how to live together forever.

I left one for the autumn harvest last year.

The old people in the village belong to the Wang family.

I think my father is getting old, too

I thought the plow blade was still bleeding.

The village and the land began to groan.

Old people in the village often say

This year's crops will fail. Yes

After all, fathers are going to fall, and when they fall,

Who will use plows to save land and villages?

Chapter 2 "Cow or Dad" People will say that you are not beautiful.

be

A set of brown hair is all your decoration.

There are no colors.

Decorative loess

You just have to work hard.

You don't even have time to look up.

As if in this moment of looking up.

The good busy farming season will slip away

You look ahead.

brick by brick

Difficult but persistent

You know the burden on your shoulders.

And the responsibility behind weight

therefore

Even if it is heavy, you never sigh.

Even if the road ahead is muddy

Or weeds and weeds

You never give up.

You have a plow.

With ancient rings, strength, courage and perseverance

Reclaim one side of the land

Your future is written in it.

Always like your cool head.

Are you looking forward to it?

Autumn is full of gold?

Chapter 3 "Father and I" You created this family.

Then he created me.

You hold my hand.

From yesterday to now.

Ah, dear. Dad.

You are the person I admire most.

Ah, my kind father

You are my future idol.

When you drag your tired body

End the day's work

When you walk into this home that belongs to you.

What I care about is whether I come back or not.

You smoked a pack of cigarettes until dawn.

A pot of wine makes you forget your troubles and troubles.

Sometimes mom says you hate you.

But you never complain about anything.

It often appears in your eyes.

I was knocked down.

In that long dark night

I was cheated.

No, dear dad.

This is just a dream that hurts you.

Because I am not an unfortunate person.

Because I have a good father.

I want to share your troubles and worries.

I won't let you worry about me all the time.

You will hold my hand forever.

Towards an endless future

Chapter 4 "Bury Love in Your Heart" Inadvertently

father

I became a father, too

We have a festival in June.

You are not familiar with it.

Let me propose a toast to you.

3255 degrees

I'm here in the mountain city

You are in a mountain village.

According to your temper

Blessing is speechless.

For example, you fly around with a bullwhip.

A whoosh

We drank this glass of wine.

Fuck you, father

Let alcohol burn in our blood.

It's like you put seven children

It hurts like an adult.

Fuck you, father

Let's maintain your quality.

Bury love in your heart

in life

brief and clear

Calm; calm

Article 5 "Gift" Li Liyang

When I took the metal fragments out of my palm,

My father whispered a story.

I looked at his lovely face, not the blade.

Before the end of the story, he took out

I thought it would kill me.

I don't remember the story,

But at first glance, I can still hear his voice.

Black well, a prayer.

I remember his hand,

Double tenderness

He put it on my face,

The flame of discipline

He hangs over my head.

If you were there that afternoon

You may think you saw a man.

What to plant in a boy's palm,

A drop of silver tears, a small flame.

If you follow that boy,

You will come here,

I bent down with my back to my wife's right hand.

See how I smooth her nails.

Being very careful, she felt no pain at all.

I look like I'm pulling pieces.

It was when I was seven years old, my father.

Hold my hand,

I didn't put the fragments

Hold it in my hand and think,

Metal, bury me,

Call it a little killer,

The ore goes deep into my heart.

I didn't lift my wound and cry,

Death has come!

When he gave me something to keep.

I did what a child should do.

I kissed my father.

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