Tea rhymes
You pour me tea
I'm talking to you
A cup is a painting
The tea mist flashes your ink colors
A cup is a poem
The bitterness in the tea flavor is my sentences and words
You pour a cup
I was a little drunk
Poetry and painting meet in their hometown
Tea is the bridge over the water
Pickpocket village
This village is called Hebei
The two sides of the strait are carried by time
One end is called the city, the other is called the village
There is a crop field in the village
The city has office workers
Every day I crossed the bridge through the village to work in the city
Decades
Stand on the moat bridge and watch:
That rustic village is the back of the city
Hometown
Pickpocket kids
Pickpocket kids jump the moment
The country roads became fast roads
Occasionally write a chrysanthemum in the corner of the wall
Today there is no rain and the wind is beautiful
A bouquet of chrysanthemums woke up from last night
From curling up in the corner of the wall to holding yourself warm
Wake up and dance in the light
I saw faces like superfluous adverbs
Maybe tomorrow it will be deleted by the west wind
But they still sow seeds between the lines
The scent of the sun
And hold the bitterness in your heart at night
The gentleness of the autumn rain
The leaves fall at night, layer by layer
Stacked leaf bones
Others are continuing to pile up
If there was wind, they would run away in horror, all the way
Like a lamb can't find its mother
There is no slaughterhouse in sight
The autumn rain was the gentlest, and he took every leaf and turned it into
A subfolder, a collection, a fall
Become pasted, the root is the parent folder
The rain was like a pair of small fists, mashing these leaves
Melt into the ground for a warm winter
In the spring, climb the branches to become new leaves
Fifteen moons seventeen round
For example, mooncakes, that era
Those supplied shall be exchanged for food stamps of the motherland
Cut into a few flaps of a milk compatriot
Reluctant to eat, put it in the drawer
It's like locking in a sweet moon
Endured until seventeen, couldn't help it
Opening the drawer, the brothers and sisters sat around the table
As a child, fifteen moons
Total in seventeen circles
Another year
On both sides of the river, a few squat high-rise buildings appeared magically
Like a few thinning hairs blown upright by the wind on the middle-aged head
The concrete roads of winter walk hard like bones
The flow of years also added a few wrinkles to the aging ground skin
The grass and trees are cold, the calendar is haggard, and the past is like a nail
In the new year, there are warm iron arms stretched out from the plains in the mountains
It's another year, open the windows and let the New Year all the open breath
Awaken the stumbling words of the old year coma
Yushe Yunzhu Lake
Yunzhu Lake has a beautiful sentence
The shore is rhymed with feet
The ups and downs of the motorboats are flat
Wind sanding water
It's the words to be chanted
All those who have been to Yunzhu Lake have become poets
Wine is the genius of water
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The white bones of the grain turned into wordless water
Wine is the genius of water, and standing in a bottle can be "sitting" for thousands of years of aging
I could almost see the ancient alley sloping in the deep autumn rain
The Zen of wine, the cloud of time that has grown into a hometown
Oh, the road of dreams, is a road of crushed bones
Shake it, it was the shining laughter of the old bones
When you take a sip, you can feel the pain of your hometown
The suffering that wanders far away is the nostalgia of grain and the sun and the moon
Warm a pot of wine in the moonlight
On the back of the wine glass is the compassion of the sun
Water is the wandering of the wine advocates Oh, the mountain high water has the price of the hometown broken wings
Bet on the east wind Oh, there is the fragrance of the apricot blossom village
What is asleep is a drop of water, and what wakes up is a river
promise
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It turned out to be out of reach
Then there was the sheer volume
Cold Valley Red Grape Wine
Meet you
I became a mouthful of promises
Promise once
Our love grows wings
I'm overwhelmed
You are my sea
Tonight, I want to fly with you
One word
A cart of fat pulled into the wilderness
Cultivate a place of spring light
A bad word
Can save the mood of a poem
Farmers who dig up manure do it easily
But the poet bitterly guarded the door under the moon
Multiple renaming of a verb
Selling fruit
It is to stuff autumn into the body
Selling clothes
It's about polishing the naked body
Sell paper veils for money
It is the Qingming Festival that connects life to death
Sell cucumber tomato seedlings
It is the old farmer who sends a large number of his children to school
Donation box
A strong light fell on the small donation box
Above is a very poetic little girl name
The word "fundraising" looks like it
The "tomb" that is crooked from side to side
People all walked around, and I stood for a long time
Can't pull out a living future
Blind alley
This new road has had a blind path from the beginning
But not a single blind man walked by
I went to work along this blind alley one at a time
My eyes lit up to spot my work blind spots
This morning I wanted to step on that blind alley as usual
The autumn wind has taken the lead in climbing on the fallen leaves
Vast flowers
The wind is low, sealing the moisture dust into dots
The sun walks on it, as if picking off these flowers
Hidden in the wood door, there is light progressively into a few snowflakes
Outside the door of the red clay stove, a vast expanse of white flowed
Upstairs
Ten floors is not too high
There are also seven floors above
Small town gray streets
Like a first-year student
Draw horizontal seven vertical eight pencil lines
I commute back and forth to work every day
Tied to that line
Like raindrops hanging in the vast earthly world
such......
The rain is like this
The earth fell from the sky when it was short of water
When it falls, it can't be seen
Leaves are like this
Seasonal lack of water falls from the branches
Fall and fall into autumn
The wife's hair is like this
As soon as there is an annoyance in the family, it will fall on a mediocre day
When it falls, people will reach middle age
Wang Enrong, net name Rain in the Thoughts Collection, a native of Jinzhong City and Shun County, Shanxi Province. He is a member of Shanxi Writers Association. Editor-in-chief of Poetic Eyes. He has published works in nearly 100 publications such as Poetry Journal, Caotang, Chinese New Poetry, Shanxi Literature, Shanxi Daily, Selected Poetry, Poetry Tide, Yellow River, Metropolis, Contemporary Poets, etc. His works include modern poetry, prose, and poetry criticism. Poetry and poetry criticism have been selected into a variety of anthologies. Won the 6th "Jin Chinese Award" Review Award in 2020. He now lives in Jinzhong and Shun.