Reed Bank, editor of Nanhu Evening News, is a Tujia nationality. 1989 began to publish his works in People's Literature, National Literature, China Writer, October, Flower City, Writer, Mountain Flower, Jiangnan, Poetry Magazine, Star, Beijing Literature and Youth Literature.
His collection of poems "Lake Light" has aroused strong repercussions after it was published in many publications. There are three collections of poetry, Selected Poems by the Wei River and Sitting in front of yourself, and one collection of poetry reviews, Spiritual Roaming in Multiple Contexts. 20 13 won "China Poet Award" and "Yin Zhen Poetry Award"; 20 14 won the "China Contemporary Poetry Award"? Criticism Award "; 20 15 was shortlisted for "Wen Yiduo Poetry Award"; 20 16 was shortlisted for the fine horse literature prize.
In the autumn of October, I met a real teacher named Lu 'an at the literature sharing meeting of Jupinzhai. Listen to his creative experience.
Reed Shore said: Poetry is a dominant literary genre of feeling, and its meaning is also called interest, linguistic meaning, philosophical meaning, religious meaning, natural meaning and so on.
How to make your poems creative? First, the change from the poetic form: the gradual change from the lyrical subject to the narrative of daily life is the development track of modern poetry.
We always say that literature should be innovative, and Mr. Reed Bank should start with new words.
He said: narrate daily interests and meditation; Chassis and dome. The bottom plate must be stable, and the poem cannot be capped. The boundary of poetry is infinite, which requires writers to explore the light source of poetry and pursue it persistently.
As a sensitive writer, he always finds symbolic meaning in trivial life.
The moment the stone was frozen.
A fly resisted death in a warm fireplace.
The flame in the furnace is enchanting, and the air is filled with festive celebrations.
More flies died, under the cold strangulation.
They only have a theoretical vision. They saw—
Humans leave home with fear.
The old man is constantly pushed down by time like an exhausted horse.
A fly that survived by luck.
Through the ruins of the city, in the collapsed darkness
Awaken by the fire-prisoners who warm themselves around the stove.
It is serene because of the existence of a fly.
A quiet intersection, melting the ice on the stone.
Click, one after another, intermittent.
Warmth brings the stone house back to reality.
On the stove, the smell of bread creates temptation.
Sleeping flies enjoy the king's feast in their dreams.
It doesn't use chopsticks or knives and forks.
Food automatically flies into its stomach.
Huge hiccups came one after another.
When it woke up again, life changed the channel.
Happy people under the mask will eventually become
Mask. A mask more brittle than bread.
It's like a human phantom sleeping in the oven at room temperature.
Read this song again. In our life, we can freely let go of our emotions, think skillfully and be unique. The air flows in the picture, expressing the love between man and nature.
Climb up the island in the middle of the lake alone
I immediately fell in love with birds, their southern accents.
In the jungle, flashing
That kind of joy is like a star after the fog clears.
Above the jungle, flashing
The island in the middle of the lake, the upside-down sky
Blurred flowers bloom like starlight.
Those birds, invisible, follow everywhere.
They shouted my name.
So casual, just like being familiar with every blooming flower.
I walked carefully through the forest.
Say hello to every thorn that pulls me.
Say sorry to every panicked spider.
Occasionally, squirrels rub against trees.
Shouting: "Who's coming? What can I do for you? "
The bird replied, "Come to the reed beach, it is an accomplice."
A piece of moonlight, a fish, or a mailbox in the street are all artistic in the eyes of the reed bank, and they are all flowing poetic life.
I once read in a book that the Chilean poet Pablo? A passage from Nie Luda: In every era, people declare the death of poetry. However, poetry always shows centrifugal force and eternity. Dante seems to have ended poetry. But before long, how good is the money? Manley brought a ray of light, like a satellite, shining in the dark ... history goes like this.
In the light of continuing poetry, there are people like Mr. Reed Bank.
Teacher Lu Wei 'an said: Literature is the study of human beings, and "I" is the center of poetry, generating its own spiritual landscape and perfecting its own pattern shaping. We must realize the will to seek truth, proceed from truth, and achieve truth, goodness and beauty.
A writer's ideological realm determines the height of his works. Show the truest side of life in words.
I'm going back to my parents' house. The train is at four in the morning.
Away from home in Qian Shan.
Accepted her request with dignity for the first time.
Two years ago, a man named "Uncle" took her away.
After agreeing to come to this seaside town.
There is no news about sb.
Her husband, a wooden middle-aged man, is a little hysterical.
From then on, it occupied her nightmare.
A year later, her son began to giggle at her.
..... life is quiet.
How far is the road and how long is the water? She doesn't know anything.
Mom and dad, brothers and sisters, the hut in front of the door and the old locust tree.
How are you? The "uncle" who once appeared halfway also
Okay？ Rhododendron on the ridge and coriaria on the hillside are ok.
Really? What happened to Shan Ge who vowed to marry her?
..... Tears ran down my ears and into the bed.
She gritted her teeth and prayed that the alarm clock would wake up
My son's new clothes and my husband's new medicine have been prepared for a long time.
Two big bags full will take her on the train.
Two days and one night later, a remote county left her behind.
It took the rickshaw five hours to send her to a small town in Longsolo.
Then, cross two mountains on foot and turn a corner.
You can come into the house when it is dark.
The moonlight outside the window looked at her, contemplating the journey home.
repeatedly ...
The image created by this poem is true, appropriate and grounded. Reading poems on the banks of reeds will always find your own shadow.
In the words of Reed Bank, my words are of no help to the world, but my poetry writing is enough to make me become my own god and create my best self in the chaos!