Good poems of the day
The tongue will return to your hometown for you
When you get old, you will find that all the way
will lead to home
All the distances start from the old house
All the pain, like a bronze arrow, from all sides
Shoot to the heart of your hometown
Everyone you associate with in a foreign country, yes
The embodiment of your folks
You've learned to talk business, you've learned
Speak in Mandarin and foreign languages with a variety of people
However, at night, you can't stop your steps back home
I can't limit myself from dreaming in a country sound
In any bed, you'll smell it
The smell of wheat straw and cow dung burning, will be
Carefully calculate the lunar calendar and moon phases
will remember the death day of every loved one
heavy snow
The trail of Agate Gully is steep, and the weeds of Midi Bay are long
I accompany you back to your hometown for the last time
The heavens will calm you with a heavy rain
August earth, glowing porcelain in the moonlight
There are a lot of grievances and reluctances, twenty new lands
Can't hold down your arched back
My thoughts are like the branches of a hundred-year-old elm tree
Messy and distorted
I know, the day I left, I turned around
There will be a goose feather snow in my hometown
Write
I want to use all the income to exchange it for manuscript paper with a dark grid
The warm spring sun wipes away the dust
Go back in time by writing a letter
Don't care who it's written to, don't care about scribbled handwriting
Could it be that my state of mind has been falsely represented?
Writing a letter has been my wish for many years
The age when the letter should have been written, there was no decent pen and paper, and
Reassuring news
The embarrassment of life and the missed opportunity to write a letter
There was a fly in the room, like a stealer
Read on the sly
My words, mimicking its tentacles, its limbs
It also imitates its crying song
Writing a letter is a headache to think about before and after
Folding a letter is like folding a stiff bone
The seal is like a coffin
I really want to open the envelope and revise it over and over again
Every time you delete a word, you can feel the weightlessness of your body
If you have an address, send them one by one
Don't wait for the response, don't look forward to the return date
If you don't have an address, wait for an unexpected phone call
Mother, maybe in heaven, maybe in hell
Take advantage of the darkness and burn the letter to her
If there is a beep, it should be
The water and blood in the words are on fire
If the flame jumps, it is the bones that connect mother and child
In inches into ashes
them or them
He became a family with it, and he was inseparable from it
I don't know if this combination should be called them, or them
The mother tongue has reached its limits
The homeless man adopted a stray dog. in this city
No ID card, no household registration book and house book, even
There may be no loved ones
It's the saddest union in the world
I've seen this family, them or them again and again
Lean together to keep warm, lean together to eat buns
Lean together and talk
Today, I passed under the overpass and saw again
This is a perfect combination
He's bandaging its hindlimbs while it's
Lick the wounds for him
My light, stones, and wind
It's a wonderful thing to do when you're alone
I will take out the light, stones, and wind from my body one by one
These are my treasures, and I won't show them easily
The glow folds in the body for too long and has some wrinkles
without sacrificing temperature and brightness
The stone is my ally or enemy, and it hurts me
Let me taste what it's like to be alive
Wind, flowing through the meridians and blood
How powerful it is, keeps me moving forward
I have no leisure, no gold, and no hands
Only some with old time and cheap fame
Dehydrated radish, like shriveled and ugly
Tonight, what a starry sky, it's rare to have no sleep tonight
So many stars in the sky are gradually extinguished because of me
The earth is deep, and the universe is so vast
I, with the light, the stones, and the wind, am like in the dark night
A meteor that swooped into the atmosphere
Skimming over the dimly lit village
It's so quiet in the world
forgive
Silkworms, which eventually grow wings and bones
And the bones in my heart gradually melted into the wind and frost
More and more I have to be flat, I can't see weakness, I can't see blood
Give breakfast to a stray dog, I can't see it
Look at my mouth and wag my tail
Sprinkle the rice on the windowsill and leave it for the pigeons and sparrows
It's the wings that make them higher than humans
Now, I really want to forgive all my enemies
Including time, this invisible knife
Including the years, this hand that handles the knife
Forgive everything, and there is no enemy in the world
For the rest of the time, I just want to sit down and see the snow-capped mountains in the distance
It's an old man with a softer heart than I am
The winds of Siberia have long been forgiven, and
Human strife. Full of gray hair
Sit and not melt
Worship semicircles
The yurts, magpies' nests, breasts, and plastic greenhouses are all semi-circular
I've always admired things in a semicircle, including
First and last quarters
On two specific days a month, I must be in the evening and early in the morning
With the piety of the admirer, gaze for a long time
Half a pure clear moon
Those semi-circular things are the best shelter for life
They are only partially outlined, and they are drawn to perfection
Induces endless imagination
Behold, the sky, this great breast
Upside down the steaming world
And the mound that is fastened to the earth is protected
Sleeping souls
Mother's old hen
The old hen is used to being picked up
Accustomed to touching the anus
Accustomed to yelling at my mom to take the hot eggs
After the mother is gone, the old hen has no one to hold
No one touches the anus
Didn't pick up eggs
There is no confinement meal after the eggs are laid
After many days, it no longer lays eggs
No longer trust humans
Like a rooster, it crows sadly in the night
No matter what you call it, it doesn't dawn
power
When parents let go, power falls from a height
Fall to my left hand
- Carrying a tired life in his right hand
Now, I can set the rules
It is possible to travel far away
Can be called old
It's okay to talk about death as much as you talk about the weather
If you wish, you can also have long hair
My parents are gone, and I may wake up crying in a dream
I miss my father and my mother in tears
It's like a child
Old times
Granddaughter's toys and storybooks are piled up in the corner
While playing, she pouts her little ass
Piece by piece, piece by piece
Throw it into the distance
Child, how old are you, you have
The past that can't be turned over
Look at me, sixty years of old time
Don't dare to flip easily
I'm so scared, it's deep, old wounds
会碰bleeding来
author
Ma Weiju, male, from Huining, Gansu Province, lives in Beijing. He is a member of the Chinese Writers Association and the China Railway Writers Association. He has written more than 1,000 poems, some of which have been published in hundreds of publications such as "Poetry Magazine", "Poetry Monthly", "China Railway Literature and Art", "Ginseng Flower", "Green Wind", "Star" and "Selected Poems", and have been selected into a variety of anthologies. Published poetry collections "Gap" and "Deep Snow".