Photography in this issue: Yu Li
People who loosen the soil
Wang Bin
The years are getting thinner and thinner by the wind
The path of life we take will eventually become
A road to hometown, a dirt road
Like my father, I was the one who loosened the soil
Under the blooming peach blossom trees, my father grew older and older
Between sadness and happiness, there are insects and birds chirping
I will not lose my way
In the endless darkness
Poetry is the only light that lights up
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Waste each other
Wu and Jun
Add No. 92 oil
Grinding flat tire patterns, the road does not extend
Just going back and forth in small county towns
It is a rope tied to folding life
It is a confrontation that wastes the alternation of night and day
It's a black-and-white confrontation
Burning vegetable oil at the bottom of the kitchen, choking oil smoke also has a gap
The wife who wears the apron wastes the good-looking figure -
Towards dull days
Add a few grams of salt and mix well with the extra bitterness
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Tianmen Mountain
Wish snow man
Tianmen Mountain is the eye of the god of poetry
People passing by will have the charm of poetry
Why is the beauty of Zhangjiajie so beautiful
Because it gets an extraordinary baptism
Spit out a cloud of endless change
Sunlight penetrates through the crevices
Like a golden sword
The majesty is astounding
Thin clouds shrouded
Rolling green hills
Poetry rises slowly from the earth
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Border people
——To comrade-in-arms Liu Yong
Ice
At noon, the camp was quiet
The warriors were taking a lunch break, and the sentries with guns stood tall
We stood in the courtyard chatting about familiar barracks life
It is also difficult to talk about people to middle age
As well as decades of youth and tempering on the road of military service
Behind him is the ancient city of Laining, with its mottled and mutilated walls
Kunlun Mountain and Tianshan Mountain are the background of our conversation
At this moment, the wind that has been lurking in the body for many years
Start blowing your bones
And row after row of poplar trees watered by iceberg snow
It is the scenery of Kashgar autumn
I have touched the reefs of my motherland in the South China Sea
I also thought about the direction of the riverbed under the boundary river in Heilongjiang
He also gazed fondly at the boundary monument under the snow and ice
Now, I'm listening to your life
Eighteen years old out of Xinjiang, in Inner Mongolia is Shubian
He returned to Xinjiang at the age of forty-eight, still on the edge of the border
The motherland is vast, only thirty years old
You're always the one standing on the edge of the sky
The one who keeps vigil for the motherland
Even the elderly mother also puts you on the side of life
Live your own life
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This winter
Xie Xiangdong
The human world has experienced rain and snow again and again
Double baptism
There were also some boring cold winds
Take the opportunity to pat the door
A goshawk descends from above to the ground
Swooping, eagle is not a show
The eagle is meant to break the hearts of some people
Of the frozen
A small plum blossom
In the wind and snow in the rain
Proud of the snow, rain, cold wind
Mei had a meter of sunshine in her heart
Hope is always a little red of Mei
No, the eagle strikes
The ice shattered, the rain stopped, the wind stopped
The world is warm, laughing at the spring light
Tanzhu Temple
Yu Li
Meditate on the futon of Mount Everest, Tanzhu Temple
Blessings are made in the sound of the bell
The Nine Hills Arch guard ring is like King Kong
Xiong Feng held up the light of ten thousand clusters of sexual virtue
The southern kaoru of the temple awakens the white clouds out of the sky
The veil is slightly swaying at the true face of the Buddha
The autumn wind is formed in the empty valley, and he is dressed in a cool robe
It is decorated with persimmons, hawthorns, and autumn pears
On Jinping Mountain, XiuZhu, Huang Li, and Dan Feng were chanted
It receded and gradually deepened the realm
This late autumn object makes people feel compassion
Next to the Pavilion, a Bodhi leaf hangs from the Imperial Tree
The signs of divination in the afterlife are interpreted by clusters of high incense
Only the pine cypress settled, accumulating Zen in the slow ripples of the annual rings
The mountain pass walks carrying the lantern of the moon
The waterfalls and springs stain the silence of the wilderness
Under the shade of the willow shadow, the monk knocked on the mountain gate
A bird magpie that lands on the ridge of the Great Treasure Hall
Epiphany to the sound of twilight drums
Fly towards the grand sunset light
Country secrets
Zhou Jun
Push open the window
Please Xiao Wu come in
Kick off the countryside
Morning mist through the windows
Uncover the quilt of happiness
Wake up the snoozing mind
Birds flew over the windowsill
At the junction of poverty and wealth
Twittering non-stop
The piccolo of a shepherd boy on the back of a cow
The heavens and the earth were bright
Cooking smoke on people's roofs
Busy with a year's livelihood
A scythe that comes and goes in a hurry
Guiding the old farmer who wears the stars and wears the moon
A symphony of beautiful countryside was played
It's this pair of sleepy eyes
Walk through the mist
At the end of the distant mountains
Discover the secrets of the beautiful countryside
Half-width light tower half-snow mountain
Hong Shaoqian
Up and down the hill, a few spring and autumn
The branches tore your body apart from the tombstone
The lawn that mother had rebuilt was green again
That's the color you give back to the season
Your horse rolls in with a stonemason on its back
The sea repeatedly lights up your lighthouse
The cuckoos are in full bloom, and the ward that has just been vacated
Filled with other people's teeth
Dreamers, back to back
Sometimes carrying loved ones on their backs waited until dawn
Sometimes carrying a poetry bag to carry the water up the mountain
defoliation
Dong Qingzhou
No morning light in sight
It's different from yesterday
Leaves on the shelf to meet the sun
I don't know
Whether the leaves of the grapes that have been removed are still called grape leaves
Whether the leaves of the loofah are still called loofah leaves after picking
Those sad leaves that fall on the ground
The sun is still young
Every morning was as radiant as ever
These leaves ripen a shelf of fruit
And then happily get old
Poplar leaves, locust leaves, sycamore leaves, loofah leaves, rose flower leaves
No matter where it came from
Unknown leaf
Along with some nice feathers
Be blown into the corner by the cool breeze
Tomorrow will be with the falling flowers and flowing water to the end of the world
Before it is ignited or decayed
They are stuck to their homeland and are called to be: falling leaves
2021/9/1
In the alley
Bi Junhou
In a remote corner of town
Hidden is a cramped alley. It's mine
Friends, live deep in it
Blue-gray bricks
Reminds me of his shirt
Out of the cornice corner
Reminds me of his indifference
And calmly
On both sides of the roadway
Committed grass mustard, surrounded by clusters
lush
O grass that leans over the earth, your good fortune
Unconsciously, get
A stranger
Heartfelt tribute
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Recommended: Cheng Xiaolin
Source: Member works of the Chinese Poetry Society