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.
Chen Xiao shrimp, female, born in Fuding, Fujian Province, began to write poetry in 2013. Published the poetry collection "Encounterable". He was selected into the "36th Youth Poetry Society" of the "Poetry Journal", won the "Third Chunni Poetry Award" of "Poetry Exploration", and participated in the "First New Youth Poetry Society" of "Poetry Tide". His works have been published in people's literature, poetry journal, poetry tide, poetry exploration, Fujian literature and other publications.
There is a kind of bird
Chen shrimp
When I was seven years old, in a small mountain village, when I was alone
From the empty valley came the sound of a bird
"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..."
The sound was unusually clear
But I couldn't find any trace of it
Later, once, in a rental house in a foreign country
I cried over the loss of someone
Tears dry looking at the sky, hearing "do not cry, do not cry"
Another time, on the operating table
When the anesthesia needle is pushed forward
A knife was about to cut through my body
And I heard again, "Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..."
One by one, it faded away
I don't know where it will be next
hear. I haven't seen it
But it is very familiar with it
"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..."
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Grandpa with stone
"I really can't do anything with you?"
Grandpa insisted on not being able to get over a stone
Grandpa once carved a bodhisattva out of stone
"Bodhisattva, what is letting go?"
The bodhisattva was silent
He gave the bodhisattva to his monastic mother
Later, he built a stone bridge and built a stone house
Inside lived my grandmother, uncle and my mother
Now, he was going to fight a big rock
I had to carry it up the mountain
Make yourself a cemetery
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Photo by Chen Xiao shrimp
The Secret of the Blue-tailed Magpie
Luckily, a small fruit
It flew around
Stopped in front of the clay pot
Secretly hide it in a basin
It looked east and west and flew to a higher roof
Look and look, make sure no one notices
It was hidden in the yard with a small piece of sweetness
Only then did he fly into the distance with peace of mind
I secretly opened the turf
It was a small, dry grape
Late at night, falling—"
The clock moves forward, in the direction of three o'clock in the morning
A loose tap, in a drip
There are some that can't be tightened and wrung out, black
Falling, silent
Spring has passed. It was summer, but it was unexpectedly cold
I had to believe it
Somewhere there's always someone making a snow
Falling and falling, one after another
Fortunately, I encountered this fateful accumulation on my way
Suffering from a new disease of a snowman
Still insomnia. Empty room, dust rising and falling
The heart socket burned again, and the old stomach disease of many years was committed again
It felt warm. Start like an old Chinese medicine practitioner
Diagnose your own pulse and grab medicine
One dollar dawn, two dollars time, medicine is a cicada metamorphosis
temperance
At the wine table, only he smiled bitterly and did not serve the cup
Say, quit drinking
A group of drunkards, talking about the north and south
Talk about catching a few little ghosts at the poker table last night
Whose celestial ace overwhelms whose peach blossom is right
Talk about a year of tea and smoke new shoots
When talking about Jinjiang, he lost his mind and grabbed the bottle to add a glass to himself
As you know, he remembered the woman again
Four o'clock in the morning
A woman who disappeared in a fog
Five o'clock in the morning
Appears under a white cloth in a funeral home
He described himself at that moment, a body that did not listen to the call, and was drunk
He raised a glass and looked at the faint wine
Say, "Ten years, it's long overdue."
Then, a mouthful of stuffing
That shop always reminds me...
I always hold my breath as I pass by
That place, it was almost transparent
Glass windows, glass cabinets, glass
Goblets, stacked in the shape of a pyramid
It is complex
Its complexity comes from transparency
The source seems to be seen through at a glance
It is dangerous
I was afraid of this glass pyramid
Infused with champagne, let the evenings be enchantingly coloured and scented
In the crowd, I was repeatedly worried
One of them (as long as there is one) slipped off on a thin heel
They will appear to be fragmented and sharp
After a string of beads is scattered
Hurriedly grabbed the phone and called them one by one:
Grandpa, grandma, father, mother, husband
I looked down and touched the little baby in my stomach again
One by one, in the human world
We're still together
Wear it in a rope
After that, the beads are picked up
Counted, one less
Another flurry of panic
One side slapped himself in the face
While chanting Amitabha
Believe in self-punishment
It will be forgiven, forgiven
Or dodge something
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Year-end, cloudy
Take stock of one year:
I've been out of the door twice
Once aimlessly; one looking for a missing person at a time
He was hospitalized once, and the cause of the illness has not yet been identified
Expect a snow, didn't come
The wind was blowing, this cloud
No one knows where it will drift
I love, very briefly
Like dewdrops
Like a shooting star
Like ripples
Like a short flower
Like snow
Like a kiss
Like a hug
Like poetry
Like an unfulfilled vow
……
Even, like this bitter and hurried life
Fishing village
After the typhoon is gone
Every house, on the table, candlelight flickering
The waves lapping at the shore of dawn
Red lanterns, stone alleys, incense sticks
The old mother, who had lost her son, slept leaning against the door of the house for a night
The bay's arms opened its eyes to the small village
It's like a mother and a son...
Dead souls in the midst of wild winds and waves
Transform into a small crab
In the cave, I met the footprints of my life