Modern poems describing sea salt

Aggregative petrels, whether in nesting areas or at sea, are mostly small groups or loose groups. The following is a modern poem about Haiyan that I compiled for you. Welcome to consult.

Bird’s Nest

It just stands in the Millennium ancient city of Beijing.

Let the Jinding Palace be congested. I see this mess of buildings.

Bones. Not a bird.

Let it have body temperature and uterus, make it look warm and kind, and have it.

The lineage of the Millennium Empire. It's lying there

Panting, it takes a long distance to see clearly

Anybody else want to go in? open

A huge net, full of inflated desires.

More than 3 billion, how many workers lost their blood, how much despair, and flew down from tall buildings.

Young body. I saw their uncorrupted bones from far away.

Tie their eyes together in a huge lamp.

Blinking in helplessness, anger and fear.

All they have and lose is their body temperature, just like those

Homeless birds—

Through the hole of steel

Make a chirp.

The canal turned a corner in Siyang.

The canal turned a corner in Siyang.

On the map, she looks like a hair.

What I want to say more is

A woman's arms, more than a thousand years.

Hold it gently

Siyang, a little-known city

Mediocre Siyang

Siyang, which means doing nothing.

No great man, no wicked Siyang.

By the canal, mother hugged.

I love Siyang because of the canal.

I love the canal more because of Siyang.

She holds Siyang's posture just like her mother holds me.

Mom is old and still so young.

Mom can't hug me.

She is still so affectionate.

Hold my body.

Rice fields after harvest

Rice fields after harvest

Bare gold teeth

My sister stood on the ridge of the field.

Look at the drifting ox cart.

Heavy ears of rice

Used to hang shyly.

Sister, from heading to flowering

I've heard their mature steps.

Paddy fields like water

Long sickles are like a group of fish, sister.

You stand in a fragrant field.

Is the last person to harvest.

Mutton restaurant

Walk into the mutton restaurant

Besides us, there is another one.

Sheep, like me

Curious, look around.

Sheep are full of treasures, said the waiter

From sheep's head to sheep's tail

Steaming, frying, frying and sliding

The best thing is boiled sheep scorpion.

It's not sheep blood, it's sheep that supports the body.

Spine, like a scorpion.

I know

The waiter hid it.

What you can't eat

They may have deliberately

Maybe I don't even know.

Like gentle eyes.

Baby-like crying

And the kindest animal.

soul

worried

Besides wild chrysanthemum, it is wormwood, around the pond.

I like these fragrant lives, clusters.

Absinthe, they have a unique fragrance.

When I was young, I rode a buffalo.

Playing in the pond, wormwood quietly around the pond.

I climbed out of the water and lay in wormwood.

I think the sun shines brightly on my dark skin.

I am a cricket, at the root of wormwood.

Sing tirelessly and make friends with voles and ants.

Wormwood is always so quiet.

Watch my body grow.

On the edge of the city, wandering, looking for.

My own luck and misfortune, whenever I close my eyes.

Yin lives in front of my eyes so truly.

A pond close to my heart

There is a strong absinthe in my words.

Dissipate in the empty darkness at night

In the countryside in my memory, branches of wormwood grow on the eaves.

A pair of rough hands, clean mugwort leaves

Put it in steaming water. ......

swimming pool

In summer, I lie in the shade by the pond.

Many sparrows are quarrelling in the grass.

I looked at the quiet sky through the finely divided leaves.

Imagine a leisurely cloud, is it like me?

The breeze blows over the green water, slender reeds and pointed lotus flowers.

Sometimes I jump into the pond.

Learn to look like a fish, but I feel more like a bird.

A man with ideals but no wings and feathers.

Bird, I am swimming in the sky of the pond.

The gray vole swam quickly ashore from me.

I sank to the bottom with my eyes open.

Covered with black mud, at this time

The water began to shake, and I was as depressed and inferior as I was.

Began to ripple in the circle, I think it is the pond at the head of this village.

A round heart filled with water.

The buffalo I ride is very old.

Breathe in the pond

Across the street is a watermelon field.

If my father hits me straight in the throat

This must be a ripe watermelon.

He accidentally broke it.

The train passes through this town.

We saw the sky, swamps and rubble.

We saw ponds, meadows and otters swimming fast.

We recite the children's songs in memory and say

How interesting it is to tell jokes that never end.

On this seemingly endless road

The town is jumping, and the dusk is more charming.

How long will the newly renovated house last?

I also want to face the sea like a poet.

For many years, our pockets are getting bigger and bigger.

We pack a lot of things every day.

Crossing the town is like a rumbling train.

The wind blew the gray flute and we watched.

The train hurried through the town and got lost in time.

Decorated as a galloping horse, if only there was a platform.

You said that at that time, we were sitting in the teahouse on the edge of town.

Drink green tea and eat spicy barbecue.

wheat

In the field, patches of wheat

Grow up quietly and calmly.

Their slender edges

It doesn't seem to pose a threat to high altitude.

In addition to rain and dew, sunshine

They don't need too many gifts.

They just want to be with the soil.

Live a quiet and short life

And then willingly

Put a dehydrated neck

Reach for the sword of death

A large rape field

Now, I stand where I once stood.

A large rape field, heavy fruits.

Lower my sight, now.

Who else thought of those golden flowers?

I met an old farmer.

He has begun to calculate this year's harvest.

A large rape field

More like a mature pregnant woman, happy.

Lift your body shyly.

I walked past her.

Stepping on the thick fallen flowers on the ground

Not long ago, those flowers were happy.

Bloom wantonly

Like an ignorant youth.

Bitten by time, in a humble way

Hide in the dark corner of your heart

Now, a large area of rape fields

Full of heavy fruit

I walked past her carefully.

She turned to the wind.

lotus

When the lotus leaves the river at night

Open petals of various colors

My head is getting bigger.

The most beautiful season, cheerful birds.

They edged through the dusk light.

Jointing from black soil

Our wilderness is full of adults.

The frightened deer crossed the hill.

You held out your shy finger.

Combing the veins of the wind, the wind passes through the shadows.

Store in a quiet lake.