About author:Yu Chuanying, formerly known as Kan Xingbin, freelance poet, the third brother of the poetry Taoyuan, works for Shandong Expressway Group, is a member of the China Micro Poetry Alliance, and was the deputy secretary general of the China Micro Poetry Alliance. He is currently the editor of Qilu Poetry Journal, and a certified writer of Dark Moon Literature and Hulan Writers Association. His representative poems are "The Birds Are Tired, the Sky Knows", the prose essay "From the Hundred Grasses to the Sanwei Bookhouse" and so on. Love poetry, occasionally have experience in the journal, poetry view: poetry has no fixed law, poetry is outside the poetry! I like bike riding, photography, karaoke, sports, and I like poetry even more – without passion, the world can't progress!
1. The matter of Yerba Buena
The smoke and rain washed by the wind touched the time with the azure sunshine
Wooden memories accompanied the willow in front of the door and the chanting sound on the lawn
It attracts spring wind, green and lightning
After the famine of early summer, the birds that came out of the flocks chirped in the branches
Where there are occasional stops, I explore the dark fragrance of a perfume rose
She put the small wild vegetables into the basket and stepped step by step through the depressions and fields
The part of the memory called sweet is called huangmei
The morning dew strings together memories
Those quarters of the elk buried the summer night and the letterhead as a foreshadowing
Spread out one page
The softness of the earthly world swayed with the sway of the leaves and grasses, when she looked up at the clouds in the sky with him
The thorns of the rose will be carefully pushed away
Monsoon, blowing the sun thin
The squirming part of the fingertip becomes the rush of a leaf
The sun was low and low, and the mountains that had been shouldered together in the morning twilight had been shouldered
Like a verse grown out of bare bones
In and out of the mid-night thoughts
You think and think, read and read
With just one dear
Just put a silent thinker
awaken
2. Praise the far side
The flower-filled lines of poetry contain waking words and love
Candles at night insist on driving away the cold and sparseness
Heaven and earth are virtualized into an empty cup, grand in one's autumn will and heart
Burn with the intensity of pure grain wine
The part that flows between the fingers, revealing the veins and clarity of a leaf
The sound of water spreading along the coastline awakens to the brink of the approaching spring breeze
At midnight in a slightly drunk
You and your cat walk through deserted streets
And carefully, lower your breathing
The corners of the night need to be lit in a straight way
Light the lantern that falls into the world
Illuminate faults and isthmuses
Illuminate the peaks and taihang
North of the north, in your hometown, there are deliberately laid seeds
The boiling that will eventually fade away is provoked
Put the green vines with the flow
Put the drop and deep
Go down the back of the mountain
Those that have not yet reached or farther
Grow from silence all the time
A place occupied by the soul
Once again your forehead and the four seasons, joyful and inexplicable, named spring
3. Desire the sea
bell
The influx of light awakened the morning bell
Beneath a suddenly fractured cliff
Some of the pores and nerves that have fallen off the branches are thrown at the oncoming grass and trees
The wind chimes under the eaves read out the thoughts of the water
Flowers aimed at the sea
The polished palms recognize each other again and again
Images of heartburn stand at the head of the tide
The tide head beats the blank space of the verse again and again
Surging
From the death of each on the verge of blue
The vastness itself makes it pure, longing
And the wild return to the sky
It takes a kind of roar to break through the throat of the old man
Dissect the tomography of the past
Sandalwood burns out, how to define the sound of chanting
The lingering beam of your smile
And extend the reflection of the sea
Flowing water takes away swimming fish and decadence
Resurrect a silhouette
The fictitious wind crossed the Su Causeway
Out of sight, at the end of the sea and sky
Pray to the vicissitudes of the surge
Lights
How to save silent, melancholy cliffs and cliffs
Interpret the sound of water with the hustle and bustle you like
Thousands of hearts poisoned the waves
Splash out sighs
Swallow fish bones and desolation
The storm-hit Noah's Ark stared at each other at the drowning site of the sailors
The moment of resurrection points in one direction
Like the beginning of a fallen leaf
The absent take back all the warmth of the world
And hand over slow suffocation, thin coolness
A voice was opened by the muse
The lights that the running water can't take away
Reducing decadent things to poetry
A diffuse burning field of waves
Stripped of the silhouette of the wreck
Wait for a sea to go down again
Once again, limbs and tears were handed over
afar
The golden sunlight turns into a sword, splitting the molecules of water
Butterflies flying over the sea
It will be a little earlier than spring
arrive
The sunset on the page is repeatedly sketched
Sink that moment
The sky crumbled into fragments and was cold
Quit the last name, quit the road
Far away, far away, crossed into frost
arrival
The assumption that time has been dialed out
Sketches of the rising and falling of the sun and moon
If you or I think of the words and looks away
In the waves that once stopped abruptly
Indulge the wings of the soul
Push away the defamatory head
Or to draw closer to the ancestral shrine of God
After a heavy snowfall
Higher than the pupils buried in life and death
In the twilight of a morning bell
Reach each other
Or farther away
4. Affectionate thoughts
Untouchable fingertips and plum blossoms are hidden in the South Mountain
Condensation and clear words go hand in hand
Mei Xiang slipped through her brow
Walk through the mountains
Heart
Plain jane with deep sleeve pleats
Overflow shallow
Look at each other speechless and snuggle up to each other
Solidified primitive and flowing year after year
Raise an empty cup and hand it to night
The cold tide rushes into the distance
In the distance, there were already wildflowers
In the middle of the night, the moon is like a hook
Temples and worshipped sages
Clear and clear
The wind blows through the water curtain
Moss does not age, water curtain does not rot
Again, do not abandon, do not see and do not disperse
Live up to Shaohua and meet
Where red dust and Zen go
Flowers do not speak the wind has been understood
No injury, no pain, no purity, no dirt
One is the conversion of each other
One is to live up to the letter
Long-term affection for silence
Follow us, join us, write, draw, sing, dance, make videos...
Anyone who has ten likes in the poetry review area of this edition can get the genuine poetry collection "Love is my only luggage in this life (published and distributed by Changjiang Literature and Art Publishing House, and sold in Xinhua Bookstores and official online stores nationwide)". Submitted works + introduction + life photos private window pile (if not the first draft, please indicate the source).