Good poems of the day
When I rummaged through all the winds
I'm like a thief
Walk carefully in the desolate world
I don't have the emperor's new clothes
There wasn't a single rainstorm either
Able to let me ransack
Leave it to my part
Stealing a long-standing hunger
I heard them shouting:
When I rummaged through all the winds
依旧一文不名
I'm used to being cautious
It's not like the legendary thief
Only love will be desperate
Even unscrupulously
Hurt yourself -
In the spring, I was like a cowardly child
Fall on the branches where flowers burst
Until the night summons another round of starlight
The head that has been disappointed for many years
before daring to sing loudly
Like a peach blossom tree after a heavy rain
Something should be said
When the sad throat is relieved
Local weather stars fall from the treetops at night
A seed will sprout
Like a peach blossom tree after a heavy rain
You may say to me:
Our affection,
There is only some kind of dispensable wish left!
After the cooking smoke, he married and had children
Russia has forgotten the rivers and lakes
But you've had your prime,
Have had painful thoughts. Quietly tired of the song
Flying through the heavy snow -
If it weren't for affection, I don't know
Will my soul ever be kind?
Poet, you are old
You have cocooned yourself, you have fallen into
Forever
Whenever the moon rises in the middle of the night
Then dreams fluttered from the dead and not stiff body
God is always so calm
It's like confusion, imitating a string of cuneiform script
Let the open hand print have a strange power
When life strikes in the air
The valley leaves a lingering aftermath
Like a bird that flies
Fantasy clamping the wing feathers that vibrate the air current!
It is not afraid of the speed of falling
It will be softer than a cry
God is always so calm.
Trying to convince himself to understand a graffiti at the entrance of the village
The revolution and beacon fire of the last century
More like a rapids in the depths of the sea
Every burst of silence is like a filter cigarette mouthpiece
Leave behind a cloud of smoke that is not there
That's not kids' play
Rather, the desperate battle has just begun
Like a crumpled wave
Eat and drink enough
Lying on the endless bed
Fuck hard-
Until there is no solution, until pi
Growing from the heart of the earth.
I love you, before I die
In a place where thousands of lights are dim
I cried and laughed, like a crumpled wave
Like a pregnant mother, in last night's dream
The wind gave birth to a ......
And I'm always grief-
My tears flowed in and out of the river of yesteryear
As if you feed the Yangtze River and the Yellow River
to the ground where it takes root
渗出哭泣。
feel
Like a yak humpling up the plateau
You and I browse the north and south
I always had a feeling of being robbed
When you're thousands of miles away
The time interval is like raindrops
Fall along the eaves to the ditch
Now it is a barren and grassy old garden
The fluttering birds in the old garden
Presumably old
I know you're tired
I know better that this is not your tiredness alone
There should still be night
And night-like bats
Fantasy shakes off the dust
Like an ellipsis that needs to be added
Shy all the way
Rushing out of the dream-
Like a struggling harvester
When you turn the shaver,
You're in the door, and time is closed out.
Spiral pulp coughed,
Like a struggling harvester
From the wilderness, roaring all the way.
until
A heavy rain on TV,
Wash away the dust -
Cheerful fawn, stop
Raise the cautious head
It's listening,
It seems to have mastered, in the air
Danger looming.
It was in the living room, six o'clock in the afternoon
The jungle of Dora follows the moving camera,
From the African savannah, jump out
It is embroidered with a cheetah pattern.
It's as you think,
more in line with your adventurous thoughts,
It's just that you're tired.
On the way to run,
Gradually moved away from the arena.
burn
Don't say anything to me again
You're tired of hearsay
Ten years, ten years
I'll give it to you
Like a triangular plum on a cliff
I'll give you red
Tonight, all the wind
are providing you with imagination
I love the blue, like an affectionate petrel
口衔一呐喊
My soul,
Filled with old love
Ah, I miss the beehive, I miss the triangle plum
Crazy growth from a juicy heart
They, my passion
No longer flowers
They are unscrupulous
Like one person, no, more like a group of people
to the world that has long been disgusted
Burn the fire to your heart's content
correspondence
Can't wait to unveil a corner of spring
From the sky fell a storm-washed blue
Sore, swollen bones are also waking up
On the trails you walk, deep in the shade
The buds are surging and the damp damp dripping -
Those that sting, like your latent thoughts
Like the wings of a bee butterfly vibrating
Budding orchards.
Love was also experienced
Successive dynasties, through the changes of current events
Those mountains and rivers are restored, those things and things
It is difficult to hide the desolation of the spirit
And I've only been to the South!
In the dream of the beautiful mountains and rivers,
I dare not say that you have not set foot in it
The beauty of the north is like a goose feather snow
It has never floated into the waters of the south of the Yangtze River.
Sometimes, wake up from a dream
I'm always looking at different people,
Ask about the fate that has nowhere to hide.
Those philosophies, those thinking human eyes
You can't say they're not God
Insomniacs, sitting cross-legged between the pages of a book
intermission
It's a word.
Hysteria too-
Between them and the sleepless poet
Complementarity.
Night than day
Be quiet. Cigarette lighter,
Sitting under the moon, stunned.
soul
On the other side of the hollow
Fake sleep.
You can't tell what's the problem.
Insomniacs, sitting cross-legged between the pages,
Empty the bright moon, empty one
The rivers and lakes of the hanging pot help the world.
love song
I have to go
Singing the elegy of parting.
Mulberries stain the cuckoo's lips
In another country,
All we thought about was the past.
Once upon a time, in the same bed,
We have loved each other's souls.
Love through the first night, the night of childbirth
Crying in the hug of a newborn.
In a place of clarity and purity,
The landscape, like a kaleidoscope of childhood;
I like, some kind of deep taste
Since I understand the sun-
It will also fall.
author
Ye Xiaosong, born in 1964, screen name, Prometheus (fire thief), columnist of the Reading Sleep Poetry Society, poetry writing enthusiast. Some of the poems are included in "Reading Sleep Poems: Spring Blossoms" and "Reading Sleep Poems: The Grass Grows and the Warbler Flies". The language of poetry is unique, the poetry is agile, and he is good at digging out the poetic soil and building the castle of poetry from the silhouette of life. Poetry has its own unique meaning and specialness, and has a certain degree of recognition.