World of Poetry 丨 Luo Luming: Poems dedicated to mothers

Poems dedicated to mothers (group poems)

The sound of mallets

I haven't heard a mallet sound in a long time

Forty years ago, the sound of the mallet in the jujube pond

Happier than my reading, splashing water

It was bitterer than the school tap water I drank

Thirty years ago I came home from the Qaidam Basin to visit my family

My bride was stirred by the sound of mallets

Twenty years ago, I took my mother to Changsha to live

She said the mallet of the white sand well was raised too low and her voice was muffled

Ten years ago, my mother's mallet was thrown into the pond

She clumsily used the washing machine at her sister's house in Yongzhou

This year, the ninety-seven-year-old mother was bullied by a dog

She said, "It's good to have a mallet in my hand."

Visiting mother

Big brother, sit on my right

To his right, shanshui village woods

In a flash, they retreated

At the back of the train, on the window panes

A few raindrops, want to fall but not fall

Big brother, seventy-seven years old Mountain Ridge

Pressed against a black and gray duck-tongue hat

Boiling magma, cooled down

Sit on my right side and be silent

The high-speed rail runs through the Xiongyi Ridge in the hometown

I followed big brother

Didn't say "I'm back"

Ninety-seven-year-old mother

Set up a pergola by hand and wait on the side of the road

Old lady, three or seven times in her life

Old lady, ninety-six years old this year

Two legs have been plucked out of the field

Like a migratory bird, losing its firm nest

Rises and falls between Zaozitang, Yongzhou and Changsha

Trekking and circumnavigating between one daughter and five sons

The old woman said, "I'm like a wandering yellow leaf."

When I was at my house, the old woman was accompanied by a deck of cards

A man dressed as three players is sitting in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms

Playing the cards of a lifetime, the opponent is time

The old woman put braces in her mouth and muttered to herself

"It's me who loses!" I win, too! ”

From daylight, sit until dark

The days of suffering are like movie replays

Hatred and resentment are the two magic weapons of the old woman

Love and hate are clearly distinguished in the story of Zhou Menghua Butterfly

The old woman ate yellow and lived a hard life for seventy years

Soak in honey water for thirty years

A long life can defeat all hatred and suffering

The old woman said, "Now, eat sugar cane, one section is sweeter than the other."

Author Luo Luming with a hundred-year-old mother.

Old lady, ninety-five

I always felt how hard it was to be alive

I see the ninety-five-year-old woman as a miracle

Ninety-five mountains stand up to the sky

The silver waterfall flew straight down, and the white clouds could not go around

The Black Hawk who has no more suffering at the top of the Ice and Snow

I used to sit next to the old lady

Let her dump the rotten grain of Chen sesame seeds

I just looked down and played with my phone

She just talks about past grudges

Painted old things

Green brick carvings are as rich in texture

Like a thousand leaves falling in winter

I could hear the cocoon's ears

It has a strong immune function

So, the phone swiped the screen a thousand times

Hatred is mostly filtered out

Leave a little suffering to chew out the sweetness

Let that little bit of beauty be there

Jump out of the screen

Zoom in into the look of happiness and gratitude

Spring Festival nostalgia

This year's Spring Festival is a burdock-ridden, sharp-horned cow

Than the rat step is deep, powerful, and towards the light

The world is still struggling with the Shroud of covid-19

The unique oriental lion has rushed out of the dark hour

In previous years, I used to walk like the wind in my hometown during the Spring Festival

Accompany her mother to flip through her old ledger and find a little lost time

Even if the ears can hear the cocoon, they are not bothered

Where the wind blows, the smiling face is full of peach blossoms and pear blossoms

And this year I'm in the wind, and it didn't blow

It was blocked by the fence of the new crown and did not move in place

Stop the footsteps of the east and west to worship the New Year

The pollen of the red packet did not bud on the face of the loved one

The trumpet of spring is blown at the station of Lichun

The spring breeze swayed, trying to put the winter haze in its pocket

The train of the year set off again, crushing the blood of time

Passing by, the full moon of the Lantern Rises in every window

Too much life and death soaked my sorrow

On the second day of the first lunar month last year, the fourth uncle left the bed

There is no filial piety, no sacrifice, no elegy

The coronavirus cannot stop the coffin that has been buried in the ground

The sun, moon, and wind alternately take care of the earth

The tears of the earth are falling into the gray sky

The ice in the Himalayas is broken and the China-India border is disengaged

The New Year will also collect all the sorrows and joys of the world

Mother is at home

Thousands of walks, bird's nests on poplar trees in front of the house

Like a leaf that left the branch, it landed behind the mountain

The mother also moved the nest from time to time, sometimes somewhere

Wrestled, maybe broke a tibia, maybe

Break a ridge in your hometown, or the way home

When my mother is alive, I have a place to stay in the human world

The mother is there, the home is there, and the rainbow of my ideal country will bow

Where the mother is, where it is home, it is covered with brocade satin clothes

The coarse tea and light rice handed to me are also better than the seafood mountain treasures

Mother's injuries in the past

I made a gun out of small bamboo tubes

Shoot out a camphor seed

I don't know where it flew

But I know it hasn't landed yet

In that year, Hong Kong merchants repaired the Songjiazhou Power Station

A piece of wood knocked her mother unconscious

Got six thousand dollars in compensation

Get the biggest sum of money in your life

There are banks, and the value has shrunk dramatically

Today, the power station has been renamed Xiaoxiang Power Station

Maybe the boss changed after the tide fell

Thirty years later, my mother's ninety-eighth birthday

Passing by the Xiang River, I stroked the old mother's head

The scar was never found again

But my heart is still faintly aching

Heavy snow over my head has long covered the past

But I came out of her eyes

Captured the ripples of maternal love and country feud

The car passed by Qidong

It wasn't dark yet

The night lurked on the other side of Dingshan Mountain

The high-speed rail wants to hang me in Qidong

Hanging on the platform of leaving the return

Afraid of the pond in my hometown to see the tired face

Fear of being snagged by the thorns of the villagers

I urged the iron-headed guy again

Take a big step

Cross the hills

accidentally

Cross the green mountains and rivers of your hometown

inadvertently

Crossed the childhood of adolescent youth

Yesterday, my wife just got on the train from the Zhitian destiny station

Today, I rushed to the 92-year-old station of my mother

in an instant

He has crossed the steep Bear Ridge

The sky began to darken

The restless heart was also swept away by the twilight of dusk

Stayed in the bag

When the future is bleak

The heart is getting brighter and brighter

The three souls and six spirits of the hometown

I don't trust the immortals, but I believe in the mirror flowers and water moons

The gods never cared for my life, not like ghosts

I have been holding my three souls hostage since I was a child

I remember one day the soul was lost

My mother took my hand and came to the place where I fell

There are words in my mouth, saying that they are helping me to shout souls

In the basket were several kinds of food, as well as a handful of rice grains

To this day, it is difficult for me to characterize it as bribes and offerings

The bean sprout-like wick emits a weak and windy light

The melancholy stream returned my soul

Since then, I am no longer afraid of the night and the mountain ghosts, the falling water ghosts, and the hanging neck ghosts

But the soulless stream was no longer taken care of

I don't know which lone ghost in the town it became

I remember washing an ink bottle by the pond during the rainy season

But the ponds dug on the ancestors engulfed me, one

The uncle in the red straw hat rides a bicycle under the water

I was carried in the back seat and taken to see Lord Yama

The immortal did not come to the rescue, it may not be deaf and blind

It may also be hungry and dizzy from the spring famine

It was the Young Sister who shouted to bring Li sister-in-law, it was To bring Li Sister-in-law

Shouting, the great uncle jumped out of the firewood room, it was the great uncle

Jump into the pond and snatch me back from yama's palace

Should we believe that there are gods and immortals in the world, it is said

It used to live on pomegranate fairy, and sometimes haunted Kashiwasan-an

Everywhere there are its miracles and legends that travel through time and space

Since the demolition of Kashiwayama-an, I have only returned from my father's pen

The temple of the Pomegranate Fairy has now been revived with great swagger

Moon ship

A dream rendered by the desert wind

A brain into the moon

The moon ship draft was very deep

In the harbor where Mom is not calm

Ripple stretches the forehead

Is the water level in your eyes rising or falling?

If you have a pot and a simmered sweet potato, give it all to me

In wind and waves, seafarers cannot sail far on an empty stomach

moonlight

"Mom

The moonlight climbed to the top of the tree

Take it off."

"Baby

The moonlight is far away from the trees."

"Then I'll make a long, long bamboo pole."

Put the moonlight next."

"Mom

The moonlight was pasted on the window

Is it eavesdropping on both of us whispering?

I went to catch it

Punch it in the ass."

"Mom

Moonlight hung on the wall

Uh, what about your scythe?

- What about the scythe hanging in the sky? ”

"Mom

Why does the moonlight always look at me!

Got it

(He slaps)

That's Daddy's Eye."

Paper boats

Childhood

Mom folded a paper boat for me

There are no keels, paddles, or masts

"You design it yourself"

I said yes

With a storm of uneasiness

I then wrapped the blue tendons

Painted in blue keel

Crack your mother's hands

Depicted as two solid paddles

Put mom's gray hair

Painted as bulging sails

Let Mom's smile go downwind

Take me and my paper boat

Blow out the harbor of childhood

Later, I grew up

That boat

A tornado of life

Rudely knocked over

I fell into the sea for the first time

Learn the bravery of a sailor for the first time

That ship full of crystal fairy tales

It's all settled in memory

Maternal love

Maternal love

It used to be a faded sweater

Separate me from the wind and frost

Childish me

Adulthood at thermostatic

Maternal love

It used to be a blackened oil-paper umbrella

Stretch out my childhood

The blazing sun makes it fiery red

Rain bombs make it bright

Maternal love

It was a timely rain

Moisturize my dreams

Green grass is quietly growing

Look forward to melon sweetness in one day

Maternal love

It used to be a wet trade wind

out of campus

In the bumpy journey of life

Cloud sails full of broken waves

Maternal love

It has become a nagging at the head of the bed

Insomnia with father muttering

It has become a distant hot spring

In the heart of the wanderer

Ding-dong forever

Flowerless season

Long autumn

It was Mom's life

Dry yellow days

But it's a fallen leaf

"You go out high and tie your heads."

It's only time for the blossoming season."

The years are slow

It's so easy to put seven children

The second is raised

There was no time to present the buds

Mom's head

It has been shrouded in an ice sheet

Luo Luming, poet, writer and photographer, lives in Changsha. He is a member of the China Writers Association, the China Photographers Association, the founder of the Changde Poetry Association, the Hunan Financial Writers Association, and the Hunan Poetry Society, and is currently the vice chairman of the China Financial Writers Association and the chairman of the Writing Association of the Hunan Branch of China Construction Bank. He has published more than 1,000 poems, essays, reportage and novels, published nearly 1,000 photographic pictures, published 13 poetry collections and reportage works, and edited more than 80 literary and cultural books. He has won dozens of literary, photography and journalism awards, including the Haixi Prefecture People's Government Excellent Literary and Art Works Award, the Third Hunan Financial Literature Award, the Hunan Journalism Award, the First Prize of the Eighth Ding Ling Literature Award, the Gold Medal of China Taohuayuan Scenery Photography, the First Prize of the First and Second China Financial Literature Awards, and the Chinese Long Poetry Award.