A Rusty Tree Modern Poetry

( 1)

In the crack behind the hillside

I see a rusty tree.

Standing in a narrow space

Grow countless green leaves

Drought devours the earth.

Stretch out your destructive hands

Tear the soil in the gap.

A large area of hay died in groups.

Loneliness is wrapped in autumn wind.

Death devoured the green leaves.

Then life withers into

A flying yellow disk, with cracks as its home.

(2)

It was the spring breeze the year before last.

Brought a few drops of rain from the sky

Only that sick tree is dying.

Give off a little energy desperately

Poor soil is connected.

Sea of Death

The cry of the waves to the bottom of life

Instantly solidified into a squatting boulder.

The boulder crushed the roots of nearby trees.

Make a few crisp screams at midnight

Endless pain shakes off outdated yellow leaves.

Pave an abandoned path

(3)

The roots continue to drill down.

Collide with a hard stone wall

Friction cremation

Light up the dark world underground.

This is a very lively place.

Earthworms rolled in the soil.

A group of ants returning from foraging lined up.

They want to do gymnastics and pray for good health tomorrow.

The ant's cave is deep in the trunk.

They were hollowed out alive, as well as the flesh and blood of the trunk

Then the tree got sick.

Send out some rusty branches

(4)

Two rusty branches

Turn your head to the rainy sky.

Wait for an opportunity to find a way to revive.

Want to stand in the cracks for another 50 years

The trunk of the tree is crumbling in the wind.

Old roots are attached to cracked soil.

Strive for the last strength

Defeat the mighty god of death.

Rusty tree

Desperate eyes for life

Through bloody clouds

Still standing in the gap.

(5)

Rusty tree

In the face of drought and insect ants, erect rusty trunks

Faith released into the wind

Stand on a boulder and be reborn.

Countless red-eyed people

It is the new workers who build the wall under the tall building.

They come from the barren cracks in your body.

It is the dilapidated and desperate village that shed tears.

Groups of migrant workers go out.

Rooted in the cracks of the city

Grow a few rusty branches

There are some green leaves of life on the branches.