Good poems of the day
The moonlight is like an egret sleeping in spring
The person with the harp walks across the embankment and sees the world with drunken eyes
People trapped in the landscape, struggling in a cocoon
Scavengers, old people, no longer expect to break out of the cocoon
Tie the non-existent ship to the shore
Make it easier for yourself and rot more slowly
The moonlight is like an egret sleeping in spring, washing your hands
Connect with the ancients and sit and wait for the mess of withered grass
A return to green
city
The people who live under the tiles have been around for a long time
will turn into a cricket
This is his city, and he is every street and alley
All have nicknames. Because of a concession
was burned emotionally and became a person with scars
The scar is his abyss, falling into it
Never came out again
People who live under the tiles, want again
Climb the nine towers
Overnight, all over
Every city gate
Ashi
The person who howls and cries hides in the gourd and accompanies his friends
He has been swimming among the water and grass for thirty years
Still unwilling to come out of the pond, like a lotus
Some people shed tears and cried like meteors all over the sky
Some people say that drowning can be put into poetry
This ruthless and unrighteous world will eventually need to see through life and death
The weeper is imprisoned in sorrow, and sees through life and death
Take a gourd and cut it into two scoops
One carries the body to the earth, and the other carries the soul into the sky
Yan Shuangfei
She herself is two geese, she and herself
Yan Shuangfei. One can be called the body
The other is simply called the soul
They chase after each other, and one becomes daylight
One becomes night. One is white
The other one is black
One is me and the other is you
Me and you, Yan Shuangfei
At the end of the day, it's still a person, always a person
If you don't get drunk, you don't go home
A sparrow bitten between its teeth by red sorghum
All I saw in my eyes were bows and arrows, and nets
Only with a glass of wine can you see a shooting star
Drive a flat boat, follow the waterfall, and go upstream to the moonlight
When it falls again, it's a heavy snowfall, or birdsong all over the ground
An active life is a game, and a passive life is suffering
In a barren place full of magnolia flowers
Let's not get drunk and don't go home
Lilacs, cloves
Came with the key to open the heart
The fool who couldn't find the door was very sad
It's like someone who loves each other, crumbling and crumbling himself
They can give their lives, but they can't show their true feelings
The true feelings of the world have become an illusion
People are always talking about it, chasing it, touching it
As much comfort as you get, you share as many lies as you like
People tout a lot of things that are not love
Roses, pearls, atomic hearts
The richness of cloves is medicine, it does not say
It can relieve the troubles of the world
is pointing in the other direction
A man who is tired of dreaming under a lilac tree
Warmed by lilacs and dyed the soul
In the spring rain, a girl holding an umbrella
It is a lilac with a petal holding a key
Valley Rain
Meteorites fall, meteors fall
Spring rain, spring thunder, will immediately lose their position
You are not you
What others say about you is not you
The other person you name is you
Often you are scolding him
Love is to meet under the abyss
Week 8
Every rose is Nietzsche
Nietzsche stood on the half-tower, staring at me
If he sees me, plum blossoms will fall all over the south of the river
If you can't see me, the cattle and sheep will run all over the north of the river
I put up a mirror in front of him
Whoever does not live in the world lives on the eighth day of the week
The god of poetry, the god of wine and the god of food
No barbecue, no drinking, no debate there
I'm just busy looking for a stand-in in the human world
The roses are crazy and want to climb all over
Every fence that comes across
every wall. Give the rose to Nietzsche
Give me the paradise
peach blossom
When the peach blossom became a symbol, it did not live on the peach tree
Hiding in the peach petals are all peeping eyes
This broken world is more broken than the peach blossoms falling
This disguised world is blushing more than peach blossoms, and it will be disguised
Two people turned around, one in a boat
To smash the glass and go to what he thinks is the real world
The other man, who became a mason
To build the walls thicker
Prototype of the batting system
Memories always don't want to see themselves as fluids, an hourglass
It is willing to think of itself as a cat, lying in a rout room
Playing with nine lives, and more
It is good at walking, flying, and passing through walls
Standing on your shoulder like a cat, it is the owner
Occasionally, it turns into an octopus and tickles inside your body
It's so itchy. It wields its dexterous skills
Open every box you and hide it in
It doesn't want you to go too far, it doesn't want a tadpole
Discard the tail and turn into a frog
Over and over again with lightning
Let you, dream of your own tail
Red roof
A lilac flower, standing on the second floor of the world and singing
The world is so beautiful that no one is willing to leave
Nine cats lie on the red roof, basking in the sun
They were discussing how to make a fire and cook first
It's better to study first and get dressed
Although the lighter never extinguished the matches
High-tech, inevitably
Open a door so that humanity does not die
The undead must be more boring
The team is too hard to bring
The cat owner doesn't want to worry about his children's marriage anymore
I don't want to share the loneliness of a single woman
with obsession. People who are obsessed are sick
It's all in one bite and eats the soul
Lilacs outside the window
I can't put into words the beauty of cloves, like me
Unable to tell the secrets of this world
And those who saw it were silent
They speak the language, on the tip of the tongue
has been secretly replaced
No one trusts language anymore, not even the speaker
Words are complicit in language to bring the world
Change into its home turf
The poet is his puppet
We will never be able to reach each other
You transform into a lilac tree and stand outside the window
as an expression in the world
You and I have been corrupted by words
Peony, peony
He has been misunderstood and subjected to unwarranted slander
A gray bird, going deeper
Slipped. You can stop at any time
No, she wanted to know the abyss, how deep
Silky moss, wriggling pythons
All deformed in the years, kissed by the moonlight
All once bloomed the flowers of shyness
The abyss is the path of a frog turning into a prince, and it is also a human
From death to a reborn mother
The enthusiastic bloom of peonies, no matter how noisy
More scorching than a hundred campfires
Each time, it was a prostration to the mother
Even in the spring breeze, it burned into a thousand piles of ashes
They will also turn into 10,000 moths and then go to fight the fire
April day on earth
How many fires, burning in the flowers
There are as many orioles as there are flying from the dream
Early risers, throw out the ball of thread in their hands
It was a crooked mountain road, and he put himself on the road
Let the crow not peck his footprints
April is the day of brewing, and the seeds are brewing the fruits
Love is brewing marriage, and whoever comes first to the center of the garden
Who will be the king
People came out of the dirt
It's like a window falling from a flower, a clay pot
Through the window, you can see the outside world
Put the beautiful scenery you see into a clay pot
Cook a pot of soup
Every person, when he sees others, sees himself
author
Lan Ting, who once used the pen name Bing Ma, published a collection of poems "Iron Rose". Graduated from the Department of Chinese at Beijing Normal University. He used to be the executive deputy editor-in-chief of fashion magazines, and the vice president and executive deputy editor-in-chief of an online company.