10 selected poems by the poet Li Ping

Good poems of the day

One last poem for you

Someday you'll suddenly think of me

When it rains and you can't sleep

You'll be reminded of our first encounter

Or, the final parting

Put these few freshly picked wild chrysanthemums

Clip into the psalms I have written to you

Someday, you will be under a lonely lamp

Quietly flip through the hearts I once loved you so much

At that time, the night must have been deep, deep

The past is damp

Thin and long rain threads

Weaving the poignancy of the years outside the window

And under the fingers of your flippage

A few will wilt

But the dried flowers still exude a faint fragrance

Like a sigh

correct

floating

drop

tonight

Even if it's Tanabata

Tonight by the river in Yanye Village

It was still a silent darkness

The city is in the distance, the lights are in the distance

A window that was open only for me was in the distance

Further afield are legends

It is a river that flows only through love

Tonight, the moon is scarce and the stars are scarce

I'm at the end of the world

In the deepest loneliness of life

Thinking about those who once loved me

I used to love

And the woman I'm in love with right now

Where are they at the moment?

It is a dream of indulging in nothingness

Still inadvertently

I was reminded of once in a while

Tonight, my long-dormant thoughts

Shake off the rust all over your body

Like a river

Begin to flow in the dark

Tonight, who swims leisurely in this river

Whoever will be obsessed with me for the rest of their lives......

Autumn Song

It was a very pure day

I gave up books, poetry, and music

Sit quietly in the September sun

Into the fall

Enter the solitude of clarity and clarity

I think of the sky that I have almost forgotten

I remembered that there were no wings for a bird for a long, long time

来耕耘眸里的寂寞

That's when you come

His waist swayed, like a willow at the water's edge

And the wind calms everything down

Only your long hair

Drifting like some kind of suggestion. I think

Young passions can blind people

In the crowd, I only see you

Of all my dreams, I only dream of you

I wouldn't have written this poem without you

Can't stand the longer and longer cool nights

And my heart will become a withered leaf

Suddenly falling into the abyss in infinite sorrow......

road

When I was young

I don't know the vicissitudes of life

Just the road that will be walked

Stacked one by one

Treasure it in your heart

Trek through many years

My longing heart sank

Passion extinguished

By the fireside on a winter day

In the moment of solitude

The road will unfold one by one

on my forehead

Silently meandering

poem

Look, that's poetry

Two drops of ink were spent

Occupied, or defiled

A flawless piece of paper

It carries with it the passion of the heart

and the blood of sorrow

appears in front of you

Like a shy village girl

There is no day of self-confidence

There is only a humble night

May this cry of pain be heard in my chest

There will be no silence in the gaze of the gaze

If only time could be turned back

If only time could be turned back

I look forward to an earlier and more beautiful year

I met and fell in love with you

I love you, not just that

Love your delicate body in lust

Love what is hidden deep in your body even more

Love my heart too

The autumn of life has quietly arrived

In the few remaining days

In every hard-won meeting

Don't question, don't be reserved

Enjoy this secret passion

Don't let the flame in your heart go out

Don't let sorrow flow like a tide

Drowning the lives we are recovering

Wait for me

象花朵等着honeybee

Kiss me

Like the river kissing the embankment

Don't make me cry

You understand my sorrow

Don't make me disappear

You're longing for my existence

Cherish it, so good

Occasionally, tender like water, love me

Untitled

I used to burn for you

I have burned for you

I'm still burning for you

No matter how I burn

I have to admit it

I never burned completely

And in the broken stove of my life

Passion for firewood

There's nothing left. soon

I'll be a piece of charcoal left

I want to keep burning, but I can't do anything

I want to extinguish it, but I am not reconciled

When the wind blows, I shine

As soon as the wind stops, I go dark

I'm a piece of charcoal left

It's just a little bit of temperature

Far from burning you

It also burns itself deeply

tower

Along the silence that settles deep in the stone

I circled, ascended

The shadow of the moon crept into the mound

The bright river is rushing through the window openings where you can look out

I kept circling, rising

The rusty brass bell takes away the sound of falling time

I grew smaller, more and more empty

Like a needle piercing the sky

Finally disappeared from the heights

river

A river of silence

Always silent

Flowing through everyone's faces

Childhood, Youth, Youth......

passed me silently

Only a little bit of the past remains

Such as stones that have settled at the bottom of the water

And the ship is gone

There is only some inexplicable melancholy

Secretly returning home in the sleepless night

Passion is gone, and the land is barren

The river is drying up

On the forehead, the ravine-crisscrossed riverbed is exposed

Silently recounting the turbulent years

well

The bluestone wellhead is a danger of spring water poking out from the depths of the earth, and the face is full of mottled years.

The years are quiet, just like the coolness of water, nourishing the rise and fall of the sun and the moon, nourishing a village with only blue-tiled roofs among the trees.

When the rope for drawing water hangs down, smoke rises from the roof, and the call of the mother rises.

My thoughts are rising, too. Thousands of miles away, twenty years later. Alone at dusk, I look out at my hometown, at the well of childhood and a well that nourishes memories, rising in the smoke and rising higher to the sky

Flying everywhere......

Ochika

It's October

It is Lingmen Mountain by the sea

It is a wild mixed forest in the mountains

I sat alone in the woods

It was the waves that made Lingmen Mountain shake

A dead leaf resembles a butterfly

Perched on the shoulder leisurely

I felt like I heard autumn

Whisper in your ear

"Hi, how are you?

Lonely stranger"

The noise of the sea widened my silence

I miss my hometown

It's a reef where waves crash

author

Li Ping, a post-70s amateur writer and working poet, has been insisting on writing in the cracks of making a living, was recommended to join the Hubei Writers Association in 2021, and was elected as the vice chairman of the Xian'an District Writers Association of Xianning City, Hubei Province in 2022. has always been busy with work and survival, reading books in his spare time, insisting on writing, although humble, but never sighing, alone in the text along the path of poetry to the otherworldly spiritual palace.