Editor's Note On January 31, 2021, the Fourth National Member Congress of the Chinese Poetry Society was successfully held, and 170 people were elected as members of the Fourth Council of the Chinese Poetry Society. This WeChat public account will select the selected poems of directors and members on the basis of merit for the benefit of readers.
Bi Junhou, male, ancestral home of Cangzhou, Hebei. Born in 1965 in Zhangjiakou, Hebei Province, in the Bashi mountains. He is a member of the Chinese Writers Association. His works have been published in literary journals such as Poetry Journal, Xingxing Poetry Journal, Yangtze River Poetry Journal, Sichuan Literature, People's Liberation Army Literature and Art, Yanhe, Poetry Tide, Green Wind, And Selected Poetry. Listed on the 2020 Hebei Provincial Literature List Poetry List. In 2014, he participated in the 7th Hebei Youth Poetry Conference.
Faint lights
Bi Junhou
silverware
At the end of time, the man who lights the lamp
Watch the stars. The starry sky shines on the earth
We were crammed into the crowd
Slowly fade away from twilight and dusk
The pendulum of time will not stop after all
It's like parting, but also for a short encounter
Like the hour hand, minute hand and second hand, there is a chance to meet in a lifetime
Two people who love each other are like dry wood and fire
Not burning
When we reached the Seven Rivers, we put down the iron, the scrolls and the rulers in our hands
Let go of desires and extravagances
The pace is getting slower and slower, the body
Getting lighter. Like a pair of fairies
In the casual mind
The scale of happiness is carved deeper and deeper by us
Intentionally or unintentionally, the grinding wheel of time
Polish us into two over and over again
Polished, side-by-side silverware
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Creator
Outside the delivery room, there are all the Creators. I
Mixed in
For this, I am not ashamed or upset
In the temple of holiness, white and red, what a pure color
In the place where mankind was born, how pure and noble the Creator was
The moment my little granddaughter came
I heard a cry from the heavens of the earth
Photo by Deng Ping
blacksmith
He was constantly "clanging" the knock
It's like trying to force out the pain in your body little by little
Make up on iron
Blacksmiths eat hard and not soft
Once he left the hammer, the iron tongs, the iron hammer
The body of the Void would rust, dark and red with rust
It will overflow from the inside out
A blacksmith who spends his entire life over-shaping discarded things
The Buddha's heart is soft
And a blacksmith must have an iron heart
Otherwise, he doesn't deserve to be with one piece
Nail fight
Compendium of Materia Medica
In the mountains, some grass was recruited
Other grasses, lost in confusion. The rest
Those, curled up in the horns
Don't dare to speak up
One afternoon, I went to the countryside. Just happened to meet the barefoot doctor in his early years
He was flipping through the Compendium of Materia Medica.
The sun is like a worn-out robe
Draped obliquely over collapsed shoulders
Son out. The old man wandered the clouds.
The lonely pharmacopoeia, only one noble one remains
bone
oh. If there is no disease in the world
Why cure the disease. There is no cure in the world
More sad songs from sorrow
One man is old
When a man is old, he will think nothing
When a man is old, the work in his hands will not stop
His mouth will be chanting all day long
Like an uncle bird, repeating one thing that cannot be done all his life
What a helpless thing. A person
Old is old. Lonely gray
One layer presses against the other.
A faint moment emerged from the cracks of the bones. Hollow fingers
I can't cover up the concrete scene, I can only look at it
Let them leak
When a person is constantly speeding up the rate of aging
He didn't want anything. Just anxious.
In a hurry, the work at hand is finished
Hurriedly put the vague words in his mouth and spit them out word for word
Hurriedly built a white coffin and placed it in the dilapidated East Wing
Then, look at it every three to five minutes
It was as if I had stumbled through the new door in surprise when I was young
Pulsatilla
In the fog, the child with the white filial piety on his head
Not far yet.
I'm sure they're teenagers with weight. Kneeling white mountains and rivers
I am sure that the flood of thoughts has created a great fog.
West out,
No reason.
I walk alone in the wilderness
Pale hair, sad
The white hair is pale, and people want to stop talking.
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Old mill
In the old mill, the mother wrapped in a blue plaid turban
It's like a spinning star, star-studded sky under the millstone
At that time, the blue sky was full of stars
At that time, the tireless mother was like a spinning grinding rod in the world
Push the country of self
Marquis of Huaiyin
Walking in a wood,
A squirrel embraces pine seeds. Panic,
Jumped off the top of my head.
He jumped over his crotch and fled
Deep in the woods
Many years later,
I experienced sickness, frustration, helplessness, all kinds of tribulations.
In a dazed overwhelm
Squeeze sideways through this earthly world. Like that
Squirrels, in a panic,
Find the path to the last place
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lilac
In the spring, we stopped in front of a clump of lilacs
The lush lilacs are faintly fragrant, and from time to time there are bees that fly and fall
Inadvertently, my little granddaughter picked a lilac leaf
Place in mouth. She shouted: Bitter
I leaned over and told her that whatever was sweet was gained from suffering
The little granddaughter seemed to understand and nodded
He grabbed another piece and held it in his palm
A breeze swept by, golden sunlight
Like a dancing butterfly, a holy spot of light
Hanging over her childish face
Lonely lamp
As a teenager, I went to Inner Mongolia once
I always think that the sunset on the plateau is fun. Often and
A bunch of half-grown children, non-stop
Throw stones and shoot down the sun
More than thirty years have passed
Sunrise and sunset, alternating back and forth
The sun always rises stubbornly and sets
Throw out the stones, as if in old times
There is no trace
The eldest returns, the young companion
Some have a lonely snowy mountain above their heads. Others
Walk into the twilight and become a faint lamp
Revisited, sun
Once again humbly descended to the west
The stone in the heart has nothing to throw away
And I'm dying
It is like an old cow returning late, chewing on the glory and withering of the years
Slowly close your tear-blurred eyes