Spring, not for me to meditate
When many people, in their own shadows
Rest in peace, or look at self-pity
When the old-fashioned time is still sighing and undecided
The village has taken steps to exalt love
Motherhood is abundant
And I am no longer indifferent and stingy
Hug, a stranger who lacks a hug
I settled in a place by the wind and water
Wind and rain, occasionally
Into the folds of the night, a poem is stored
Wait for someone to get it
I know every spring, the style is the same
There aren't so many turns. I just wish
Grow towards the sun and make a warm crop
Like the ancestors. Always neither humble nor arrogant
Or just make a barnyard grass. Firmly believe in barnyard grass
There is also its own spring. No argument
Nor is it fearful
Don't criticize me for being weak and fluorescent
Something hasn't had time to germinate yet
was suffocated in the cradle
Something is known to be dangerous and killing
It still thrives unscrupulously
That's what people call the difference
When you're soft, it's impressive
I was finally pushed into the vastness
Even though it's messy, I can't find it
That path of return
Now I'm on the other side of the wind
You shouldn't be pretending not to hear
I shouted in a nostalgic voice
I'm not the sun
You shouldn't be harsh on me
Weak into a little fluorescent
Wander beyond the smoke of the cooker
Whenever the night is quiet
That tear in the corner of your eye
Turned into an ocean
Hopelessly unbridled in my night
I don't have a single inch
Ship
After the top, commit to the gloom
Aquatic plants grow freely
Hunting is like a flag, but it is not revealed
Before and after their own death
Clam up
People are left to take things out of context
Paranoid refusal to turn back is the shore
Interpretation
Masochism and violence are two sides of the same coin
Only one leaf in the middle
to later
The fish that escaped from the net
Thanksgiving
And that hidden bone spur
Look around
Cold, stinging, kind
Make a lot of fresh of the same kind
There is a hard wound in the heart
From now on, I will hate a river for the rest of my life
and
The words of King Louis XV of France
Quotes on sin
Author: Yang Liwen, a high school teacher, is a member of the Sleep Poetry Society. The lonely walker on the road of poetry is not kitsch, not sophisticated, not forced, and expresses his heart in his own way of expression.
Image: Photo by Reading Sleep Poet
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life. He has published a collection of poems co-authored by poets, "Reading Selected Sleep Poems: Spring Warm Flowers" and "Reading Sleep Selected Poems: The Grass Grows and the Warbler Flies". Poetry friends have been working hard, the poetry club is forging ahead, constantly innovating, recommending excellent poems, producing high-quality poetry collections, reciting excellent works, recommending poets' works in various forms, so that more people can read excellent works and appreciate poetry culture, we are on the move!