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.
Yang Huiteng, male, a native of Rong County, Guangxi, graduated from Jinan University, a member of the Shenzhen Pingshan Writers Association, the Shenzhen Literature Society, and the Chinese Poetry Society. Some poems have been selected into "The City in the East", "Selected Readings of Chinese Powerful Poets", "Representative List of Chinese Powerful Poets", "Zen Read: Selected Readings of Zen Poetry in 2015", "Zen Poetry Read: Selected Readings of Zen Poetry in 2016", "New Chinese Poetry" and so on. In 2015, he published the poetry collection "West River House". He won the "Migrant Poetry Award" of the 2019 Shenzhen-Hong Kong City/Architecture Biennale, the poetry award of the 5th "Tian Qing Migrant Work Literature Award" of the "Shenzhen Literature Cup" in 2020, and the first prize of the Poetry Prize of the "Red Memory Splendid Yantian" Literary Competition in Yantian District in 2021.
Rural sketching
Yang Huiteng
Rice ripening
The grains are next to each other and are grouped together
Worship brothers
Sparrows beat alive
The wind blows gently
Silently reading the golden waves of the field
The glow of July
A whisker root from a handful of underground
Looking far away, yes
March, dirt and old farmers
They have remembered po liang this village
Time, place, people
……
The sun, from the highest mountain around that leading mountain
And come, with time
At last
Leave the roots behind
Leave the seedlings behind
Leave the flowers behind
Leave the fruit behind
A village of golden, made of sparrows
Sequel to The Old Man's Barn
Photo by Jiang Bohan
The stream runs around the head of the village
The stream is halved, or increased
In her eyes
All are pious and sacred
She, an old man in his seventies
I've seen her man's
Seen her daughter's grave
I have seen a group of sons and daughters living in a foreign country
She couldn't have been more intriguing than these
The stream she had seen
Her thoughts have long been reprinted
Stream, in a rain
Nor do they want to grow taller
Quietly bypass the head of the village
An old man hunched over, trying to keep it up
Take a bow
Nourished by streams
Houttuynia cordata
Houttuynia cordata, which has an alias
Dog ears
It starts with leaves like dog ears
It also started in my village and dialect
Its most earthy roots, hidden in the dirt
The appearance of white purity is a blessing cultivated in a previous life
Thinking like this, there is a faint fishy smell
Touched the appetite
That rare raw food
Countryside, occasional colds, coughs
It is the first to enter the medicine
Repair an injured lung
Basho
It loves yin. lifetime
Water as the shore
Fan-shaped leaves
Channeled a violent rain
Early morning dew
In the vastness of the puzzle can be solved
Crystal clear back to the sun at eight or nine o'clock
From a green undertone
With me I believe autumn is metallic
How similar
And I'm in a rice dumpling wrapped in banana leaves
Find what she left for me
A letter
Big jade ginger
It belongs to the soil, the soil of the old soil
It is not appropriate or excessive to express it in this way
It makes earthworms shiver in the soil
The ants backed down
The big green worm spat it out of its mouth
Days, let it proudly grow green again
Finally it resembles an older woman
Delay in finding the in-laws
The old man sighed on his chest and meditated
There is not a single lamp that does not make people scratch their hearts
loach
"The pond was full and the rain stopped"
Sing and sing
Childhood stumbled upon
Singing, singing
White hair climbs up the hill
The trees by the pond went off into the distance
Loach, the mud that has been turned over for a lifetime
Dried up
Scraps of scrap paper in the pond
Count that song that never gets old
I couldn't help but sing
Country nights
The sound of dogs barking is copper-colored
Frogs sound green
Open-air water tank
A remnant of the mooncake is stored
Paddy fields
Say who came that day and who didn't
Three nights in early September. I don't know where to start
Yona "Dew-like Pearl Moon Bow"
The sound of the dog frog, I can't tell them apart
Gaze into the countryside at night
Roasted sweet potatoes
Rice paddies after the autumn harvest
Joy was revealed
From cracks
One group of masters just passed, and another batch came
They picked up the cracked ones casually
The earth blocks are built into earth kilns
Collect firewood, make a fire, and put sweet potatoes
Knock in piles
Stand by the mud pile and say something
Something related to autumn, or unrelated to it
Roasted sweet potatoes can't hold back time
The fragrance wafts in the corner of the field
It passed in a flash
Then you chased after my childhood
Colorful peppers
Sunlight was shining down from that mountain
Fall in the field where the peppers are grown
I'm in a fixed place:
Slope bright top
Looking at the fruit:
Pink, light yellow, silver white
purple......
An old grandmother, half-squatting
Pick
Peppers, she said a pound of ninety cents
Sunlight
Half is illuminated and the other half is taken away
sweat
The plants around him grew quietly
My father had been dead for many years and was buried in the ground like a seed
But not the same as seeds
It doesn't take root, it doesn't sprout
Lying quietly is no longer tired and no longer bitter
He knew he was lucky to marry a woman
He bore him 7 children
He farmed, chopped firewood, raised pigs, and cut pine resin
Feed his family
He didn't know how to laugh, and he was honest like a corner
Hookah
He likes to sit alone under the eaves
Constantly kneading homemade tobacco
Place on a pipe
Constantly breaking the lighter
Light the cigarette and keep sucking it with your mouth to the hookah
The look of a sparkle
Finally arrived with his soul
He loves his crops, and they have something wrong with them
He was always quiet
Smoke, spit out, and then go back to the crop fields
Pull grass, water, fertilize, spray
As thoughtful as taking care of his juniors
His likes, in his body
I've been infected by his liking since I was a kid, and he likes it
Crops, I love plants
When he died, he didn't say anything
His life was condensed into a wooden box with a big head and a small head
His sons and daughters asked someone to bury him
Buried on a hillside surrounded by green mountains and water
I develop an endless admiration for them
Mother said
She's old. She said
A few fields in the house, she
It's not going to happen
There is only one way. She said
Only one field is planted
The rest is for the uncle's son to farm
Exchange fields for his labor
Let him help with the fields, plant seedlings, weeds, fertilize
The fields do not grow grass, and they are stronger than anything. She said
It can't be absurd in the eyes of others
The field was left by her ancestors, and she took care of it for the time being. She said