Chen Nianglai's Next Modern Poems (Thirty Poems)

Chen Nianglai's Next Modern Poems (30 Poems)

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The weather has turned cold this winter. The tree has exposed its collarbone, and the wind has not let go of the yellow leaves. It doesn't know where the next stop on the car glass is. It also has the fate of a river that needs pity. Thin and weak, I saw its card clearly to the heron in the distance, and my eyes were full of indifference. Except for the fast wind, everything is unhurried, even the pale sunshine. In fact, everything that can be blown away is left without determination, so you should cherish a piece of original stone and don't believe its ridicule, whether you are on the beach or on a cliff. Or the distant mountain has proved the weight of the promise. (2) The moonlight in the city is full of smoke. Tonight, the moonlight is rippling, and the wind is lying on the leaves that want to say goodbye, as if it were as quiet as a fisherman's girl crossing a wide lake. Tears fell in the middle of the night when the pulp was lifted. You will find those children who are caught by the years, and their footsteps stumble like the wind and fall asleep. How can you understand that my father who came home late knocked the hardships of his life into the cracks in the streets. As soon as the door is closed, the dust outside will shake off and the dream will not be lost. (3) Poetry —— Belief in 5,000-year-old civilization ushers in the spring breeze, regardless of the magnificent rivers and mountains in Lingnan, northern Xinjiang —— the banner of building a well-off society in the new era guides the way forward. In the face of the flood of soup, we are confident to write a new chapter. (4) In the new era of education, there is a poem in Yuyan, Lingnan, where I can see peach blossoms and red plums turning gray, and my heart is full of flowers, and it is stormy. I will come and I will go to Dai Yue. I am like the wind chasing the sun, rushing to the teaching seat on the horizon. Since the Millennium civilization, the torch of preaching and teaching shines in the distant night sky. In the new era, the torrent of soup is carrying a huge ship. Please hold the rudder of happiness and sail for prosperity, democracy, civilization and harmony. In spring, the east wind is mighty. Look how charming this country is. He said that the world is a beautiful and romantic wind running around the embankment, with petals hanging upside down. It's that delicate teenager. It's better to take a piece of sunshine, grass color and clouds from the stream bridge and send you a ten-mile spring breeze. The sun is shining like invisible wings. Time is flowing transparently, and she has entered the other side of the flower. May the sunshine flow. It is refreshing in the morning, and the dense dew on the tree is scattered on the grass tip. Melon flowers are fragrant and rice fields are rippling. Look at the vitality of the earth. I hope it will be sunny and the trees will stand by and watch the shallow pool, so the red banana green shines into the window. Oh, it's dusk. I can forgive my shallow injury and come back in the moonlight. I need to miss my beauty. One day I will look back on my life, and I will be in the treetops of Bai Yunbian.

Take care!

(6) Poetry-the fragrance of the four seasons is waiting for aging. Over the small villages and fields, an eagle rises and falls, and the boiling time of this land begins in the early morning. The slogan tube shouted on the threshing floor in front of the village, and the children's playmates were towering trees, flowers and insects. In order to grasp the revolution and promote production, adults have gone to the fields. The iron tower reservoir and rice ears are the background of this magnificent picture. The rice fields are short, the grain piles are high, the moonlight shines on the windowsill, and the earth is silent. Portraits and slogans painted on the wall when the last bird's song fell in the bushes? Also fell asleep (7) Poetry-Southern Yan Yi Yun Tonight

Jack Thomson

Tonight, I stare at a bright moon. I'm sure a bunch of camellias are, but the only thing I'm not sure is whether the wind as thin as cicada has seen the sparse stars at the top of the forest. I am sure that the distant river has put them into clear eyes. Like tonight's bright moon guarding my dreamland with wings of love (8) Poetry-My misty clouds in the south of October are not suitable for talking about winter, but the flowing fire kisses the upper hand of June. And only ribs are left in the chest of the earth. A river opened its heart, and pieces of white clouds left its eyes. The winter wind whimpered, and the melancholy of goose feathers changed the radian of the sky. The noble head leans down and kisses the shallow sadness in this world. If you want to overdraw the innocent spring rain, you might as well change the flow to the avenue and watch you flow into a wide river with the compound eyes of the green mantis. (9) When on duty, find a touch of sunshine to chat. According to Nan Yanyun, at this moment, you are talking about life. The winter sun moves bit by bit, just like a familiar and kind face approaching to talk to you. You feel the ups and downs of what you have experienced and what you have not experienced. At this moment, life is getting closer and closer to you. Forgive the light. I don't remember what you said later, because in front of it is the horizon where the new moon is moored. Maybe it's about me or you. Maybe not. It doesn't really matter. The important thing is that you speak with your heart. In winter (10), Tang Yan Nan Yan Yun thinks that you come from far away, or from ancient times, or from modern times, or festivals don't need to be built, and you don't need to exaggerate that you have secret weapons to kill anyone like me. Inadvertently, you will be bad. The demon wind brushed the Tang Priest from the left, saying, Wukong is so powerful that he doesn't need to show his charming shoulder armor, just turn his right hand behind his back. As soon as he tightened his clothes, the elegant monk was taken away. He remembered Wukong! Wukong!

(1 1) Wang Fu Fish and Wang Fu Si Tong

Author/Chen Nianglai

The warm sun lashed the earth like a braid. The fish on the drying pole feels frozen by time.

Floating air. Like ripples stroking the aquatic plants in the world.

The winter wind shrinks the skin of dried fish, but it can't shrink the homesickness like a blue ocean.

The waves beat against the ship's side. The old man and the sea wrote the story into the magnificent sunset.

On the skyline, pour a bowl of blood wine and let the rough liquid sharpen your broad life.

North! North! Go and see a wisp of smoke. I'm afraid the rich earth is thinner than her!

(12) Poetry-Some people say, are you on duty? gently

Author/Chen Nianglai

At this time of night, as noble as a black gem, the world dedicated bright lights to it. Sitting in the classroom is like sitting in a speeding car, and the scenery flashes by.

Tunnels, bridges, beautiful flowers I don't know when in the scorching sun, the moon reveals a cold and beautiful face, emitting a faint orange light like the fragrance of magnolia.

There are irregular noises coming from all around, either far or near, just like my heart is not happy or sad at the moment.

Sitting in the middle of time, the night falls from the left shoulder, and you clap your right shoulder brilliantly. You suddenly find that warmth is the clearest eye, and she has leaflike eyelashes to send you home like dew.

Good night, Snow White.

Author/Southern Yan Yi Yun

The noise of Zhongyuan West Road Night Market recedes like the tide. When the enchanting moonlight follows you into the alley in the south of the Yangtze River, when the wind no longer caresses the ancient arch bridge on the Meijiang River, the neon lights close their eyes in turn like fishing fire.

When the last bird song falls in the bushes, when the Buddha's name returns to the scriptures from the bell and drum, when the scattered stars stop whispering to the top of the forest, Lingguang Temple slowly falls asleep in the arms of Yinna Mountain.

Who said that?-Good night! The heavy snow is mild. Good night, Snow White! With a warm and shallow smile, I pray that no matter how close you are, the years will be quiet.

(14) Poetry-At this time

Author/Chen Nianglai

At this time, the sunny dust rippled in the light waves and gently asked my teacher Chen: How long has it been since you came to Lianhua Mountain? Bixi sent word that the flowers in Jiajiang miss you.

I refilled the porcelain teacup and saw its home. A ridge of tea fir flows slowly on the hillside, with only slope and no speed.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had just crossed this hard-bottomed river network, and the rivers on the earth were swift and noisy, as if the earth were leaning.

I got up and opened the window facing south, and saw a small flower raised by the breeze, just like a child walking around with his hands up, heading for a bright future.

(15) Here comes Simon.

Author/Chen Nianglai

On a fishing net, herons spit out a long list of loneliness into the mottled sky with missing fish. Then tie the rusty iron anchor mast of the stranded ship. People envy all kinds of fat seafood boats in the fishing village. The legend of Wanli was corroded in rust.

Three old fishermen squatting on the sampan twisted a pinch of tobacco and pressed it into the smoke nest. Compaction, when the ignition neck tube expands, the abdomen collapses and arches Xixi sluice.

Four happiness pierced the vicissitudes of wind, knife, rain and arrow, carved with perseverance, stirred up four monsoon smoke behind them, and all the salt water and fresh water were destroyed.

5. Some sounds, such as the wind blowing a few withered grasses, stroking the tower of Xiedaoshan, the mother patting the infant, and the boat song floating in the moonlight.

Low tide is your humble gesture. The weather is crisp and honest. When the tide came, the tree put down its figure and it was far away.

(16) Poetry-in a dream! Hometown (group poems)

Author/Southern Yan Yi Yun

Huang Jiang (? I)

Can't keep the sail shadow. You can't keep the hurried footsteps of the years. Your spacious chest shines with golden light in the sunset. The ancient soul is as deep as a river, and the beautiful shadow of white clouds floats in your crystal eyes? . year after year

Pagoda? (? 2)

Is the pagoda still staring? . Unintentional Hongshan? A corner of the vicissitudes of life has been hidden in the barracks, and rows of birch forests stand like soldiers in the auditorium. Scenery you remember: picking up shell casings, watching movies, and greeting troops on horseback. When the years quietly grabbed her background color, the pm2.5 and noise brought by the traffic covered it, and the mist and noisy military exercises in memory swept the tower like drifting white clouds. Touch a sweet dream

Street? (? (3)

At that time, time passed slowly. I bought a novel, a box of porcelain cups with different colors for brushing my teeth and a pen. You have a happy childhood, and your sadness is very shallow. It is the happiness like a coin that you have saved in your hand, slipping into the bed in a sweet dream and giving a warm morning a dream to look for.

20 17/ 12/ 16

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(17) Poetry-Dingguang Temple

Author/Chen Nianglai

The wind is cold this season, and the mountains are cold. Clusters of mountain flowers cling to the world and refuse to open the Brahma that stands on an overflowing bud. In the sound of Buddhist scriptures, I only hope that Dingguang Temple, surrounded by mountains on three sides, is warm, just like the memory of the years, the earth is covered with golden sunshine, like a monk walking leisurely in a cassock. I want to see people's prayers beating like the pulse in the valley.

just now

Air roots swaying gently on banyan trees.

Loneliness is like a slowly spreading spray.

In the afternoon, spread

(XVIII) Poetry-A Story of a Small Town

Author/Southern Yan Yi Yun

The time you see is very slow. A man named Ben came from the ancient bridge. The steam from the snack shop floated upward, and the strawberries to be sold in the street were lying in colorful bamboo baskets.

At this time, someone saw the sun beating slowly on the monument like the footsteps of a clock, and the face that was getting older with the years fell off like wood paint.

Speed and wisdom are fleeting. Morality is like a stone lion lying on the ground in front of a palace. It has a deep soul, watching the river flowing far away.

(XIX) Poetry-Solstice in Winter, Solstice in Winter

Author/Chen Kunyu

The voice of winter is whispering and the birds are wandering. Intention first, hills and valleys hide the chest. Squatting on the dragon plate, An Lan was captured. When the wind blows, soup flows. Magnificent rivers and mountains, vast blue sky. Kunpeng spread his wings, which were inlaid with bright patterns. The road is broad, and Lei Bai is golden. Die, die, die, die, die, die. Ah, the land of Hebei is really beautiful. There is only Jiang Shang by the Weihe River in spring.

(20) Poetry-Beautiful South Bay

Author/Chen Nianglai

Nanwan

You are an emerald left in the sky, and the red cone forest floats like a pink silk scarf.

I see men as majestic as dams, lowering their bodies and embracing the earth in this season.

I know that your dreams are rich enough. Raindrops stand on tiptoe enough for clouds, like a child throwing his hand at his mother.

The cool wind messed up my thoughts and blew away the water vapor on the lake, leaving leaves as wet as lips.

When I galloped on the highway, the radian of the mountains was like hair fluttering in the wind, thinking of the clear eyes of Luohe, I said goodbye gently.

(2 1) I pass by the river of time.

Author/Xiang Mu

The first ray of sunshine is stuck in the gap of slate street, just like walking across the wall lane, squeezing, so that the horizon can only be blue sky

Flowing time measures the distance from the teacup to the wine glass with mysterious and ancient steps.

At this moment. The sun in winter is as magnificent as a golden ocean, rippling with the cry of wrens.

The crescent moon with strange bones is as beautiful as a woman's eyebrows, staring at this shallow world.

The hidden potential energy in the gene is high in the west and low in the east, which makes a spring water stubbornly flow to the east.

(22) Second Ring Road North.

Author/Chen Nianglai

On the second ring road, I tore off a piece of winter sunshine and laid it on a stone. Learn from the birds sitting on the barrage and watch the broken waves under the embankment. At this time of year, a river gathers into a wilderness and there is no wind. Fu Lin Palace is a peaceful beast. It's time to return to the ancient eaves. At this time, there should be an old man's forehead flowing down from the young man's knee. Or the knife-like new moon of crucian carp shines on the tears of the bride, rippling with the sound of orioles on the neem tree. Now, the gods under the banyan tree put on the new clothes of the times and looked at the ancient river towards the distant.

(23) Night value

Author/Sherman

Ignorant, I climbed to the window sill of the classroom on a tidal night and rubbed the ship's rail on the road.

The earth is carrying a bright ark, crossing the dark water, looking for it in the ripples, a reed for thinking.

As for the voice of dispelling doubts and doubts, it is whispered that it will be several years before the magnificent spirit written in June will be displayed on the earth.

(24) Go to Lijiang

Author/Sherman

A spring river, ah, a spring river has seen happy waves in the sun, and I have heard a river whisper at midnight. Classical brilliance and mottling are reflected in it from beginning to end. The beautiful image of a beautiful woman crossing the river hangs upside down here. From face to tail, you are feeding the legend with sweet milk in the valley where the rice waves are rolling. I am like a gust of wind chasing a sail sailing south, like a rudder with waves far away. But since yesterday, I have to leave Bolt and me behind! It hurts my heart even more today! In the era of flying, we dare not slow down, and we dare not speed up until we meet a better civilization. I lost my home yesterday. You live in the upper reaches of the river. I live at the end of the river. I miss you every day. I miss you on the street corner where the years flow. I picked up the reflection of green hills and neon lights, as if your skirt were on my face. I call you Xiaojiabiyu, and I call you the small pond here. good

(25) Poetry-In Spring

Author/Chen Nianglai

There is no shortage of firecrackers and east wind in the Buddhist shrine. Tingting birch is foggy

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All the memories can be opened to perform a play in front of the gods, break the silent love of the stone, or be presented at the same time in the distance.

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Bai Zixi's three characters were played one by one, but they couldn't find them. At the end of a quiet place, people smiled and left a messy and discarded line, waiting for the last person to claim it.

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In the 1940s, deep breathing smelled of earth.

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Five years in a hurry, the riverside beauty is like Changfeng, or the vivid and brilliant years of wind, frost and sunshine have been erased by years, like a dream.

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On Saturday night, the moon is under the eaves, and the Bixi tide is on both sides.

(26) Poetry-I am on duty at school.

Author/Chen Nianglai

The first quarter moon is like a boat, floating in the ripples of the night, bearing my nostalgia for my hometown and holding a city of light and shadow in my arms.

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At this moment, the soft and grand night, like seaweed, pushes and peeks at the bright classroom.

(27) Poetry-Blowing gently on the willow tree

Author/Chen Nianglai

Shake it. Twist. Gently. In the evening breeze, are you singing the crooked branches in a low voice? How like a graceful young woman burning with the glory of the years? And loneliness

You are a stubborn dancer on the embankment, and every blood vessel is eager to make public to the sky. Even the silent broken wall not far away, because of your soothing dance, forgot the lonely acacia.

But I am like a confused cicada lying on your trembling body, thinking of you in the spring when peach blossoms are in full bloom, and coming directly to paradise on earth.

Memories can't wait to climb all over the space. It carries ancient souls, but there are some things that I can't control? You know, like this moment? I shouldn't miss you when the peach blossoms are in full bloom.

no need to say any more Some painful words hang on the lonely wall, but they can't string out a language that can be expressed. The fragrance of rape blossoms in the suburbs brushed the curtains. I can't remember the promise of Peach Blossom Girl last year. Let the March night be happy and sad from now on.

(28) Poetry-the past of the barrage

Author/Chen Nianglai

It is the bright sunshine of the Spring Festival that gives me expectation. In the first month, wait for the years to overflow the ancient home on the embankment of the barrage. Those clouds are still floating on the other side. One of them, much like your eyes, looked shyly at the noise of the world. You cry in the new green of neem tree, and the light waves ripple. And I'm not sure whether your loneliness is shallow or your lovesickness is getting stronger and stronger. The hardest part. Your long silence made me guess your little heart. It's like the wind blowing through a broken wall, and the broken tiles are talking, so it's not too slow! Leave me alone. Just like a bird enjoying itself on a stick in Meizhou.

Poetry-I saw kapok in full bloom in Hongcheng Middle School today.

Author/Chen Nianglai

Go to spring to find the ancient soul and see the kapok in full bloom in Lingnan. Time shows Emerald and Xiao Juan? As if it were yesterday.

The people's market shook the orange lights on the fish stalls, and the bluebird sang auspicious songs while flapping the diaphragm.

Grandma, dad and mom are strolling in the majestic spring breeze, and we go home together at sunset and moonlit night.

(30) Poetry in the New Era

Author/Chen Nianglai

Looking back at Do not forget your initiative mind, we can see that the road is like a rock, bearing in mind the mission and talking about the vision. After many ups and downs, our destiny has finally entered a new era. On the stage of mountains and rivers, you have interpreted the unique road, theory and system of full-length drama, that is, stand up, get rich and get strong. In fact, it is you, the giants of the East, who are boiling. The river soup and the sun are always shining and calling us, depicting a magnificent picture of prosperity, democracy, civilization and beauty.