Pro-modern poetry

Pro-modern poetry 1 pro-is a reluctant hand when leaving.

Rough, give it back.

Kiss is a heart that can't be put down in a different place.

I have butterflies in my stomach and want to talk about it.

Pro is that old face full of wrinkles and gullies.

Sweat-soaked years are hard to stay.

Baby, baby

Your life runs faster than mine.

I am the continuation of your life, but I always want to escape.

Silent love made me forget my trip.

You always shake your head, but you never give up

Baby, baby

My life is integrated with yours.

I am your seed, but I need to water it with your blood.

You said you wanted me to face it alone.

But always give me hope behind my back.

I don't want to mention it again, there is no longer your footprint in my life.

It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!

But you can't fight death.

Learn from a painful experience, only cherish it.

I have tried to grow up.

I want you to see the best of yourself.

Say loudly: don't worry, I have grown up.

Don't be sad or cry.

Pro-modern poem 2 Father's integrity and majesty.

He went hiking in the distant heaven.

But don't tell me in advance

He left in a hurry when he was caught off guard

Left me with endless guilt and loneliness.

But his words and actions are smiling.

Always flashed in my dreams.

The place where my father sleeps smells of wild flowers.

He loved flowers before his death, so he should have something to trust.

In that quiet valley without tombstones

With my gaze and narration

I was told that my father cares about me the most.

Because I am too stubborn, too stubborn.

Father is afraid that I will encounter too many difficulties.

At the beginning of every month, it's dangerous.

My father crossed my dreams.

His face was flushed and he was very alert.

Actually, father doesn't have to worry.

When a carriage came to a hill.

I live tenaciously.

I haven't lost my persistence in being a man.

Pro-modern Poetry 3 When I Become a Mother

Only in this way can I understand my mother's strong will.

Get along with those shadows who can't get along.

I want to hold on and hold my baby.

Let it be in the cold wind

When I became a mother

Understand the motivation of mother's efforts.

Wake up from a dream when the sun is still awake.

Water my lovely saplings and let them grow.

Sick or not.

When I became a mother

Only then did I know my mother's love.

Shame, failure, everything will pass.

Passionate about the truth, son.

I will always smile and encourage.

When I became a mother

I realized the meaning of life aging.

The power of growth reaches the blue sky and white clouds.

I feel at ease to pick the rich fruits in the garden.

Miss my old mother's gray sideburns

How can pro-modern poem 4 be heard by you?

My call at this time, father, my father

When you are sweating all over.

The moment I came out of the wheat field

I decided to share my life.

I must write a hymn for you.

Melody, just use labor songs.

Background, choose boundless night.

Father, my father

Don't want to see your back forever

Please turn around.

I want to face your desolation.

Even in an instant, put yourself

Turn into a sculpture

Father, my father

A bright night with countless stars and moons

You are always the last to come back.

With a sickle for cutting wheat in his hand.

Your tired figure is in your heart.

Freezing forever

Father, my father

Maybe you've forgotten.

I will always remember it.

Remember that straw hat on my head, it's you.

And mom's masterpiece

Shaping is mom's choice and material.

You cut the straw.

Father, my father

Wearing this straw hat

From then on, July is not afraid of filariasis.

Because you and your love are a group.

An inextricable cloud

There are always two people in Pro-Modern Poetry 5.

Fighting for humpback whales all his life,

Tired as it is,

But it was worth it.

There are always two people,

Working hard for food and clothing all my life,

Although sometimes,

They are hungry.

There are always two people,

Dedicate your life to us,

Although I may not be able to do it myself,

But try it.

Ah, and then two people,

Is the one who loves us the most,

And our dearest,

Our father and mother.

Pro-modern poetry for 6 hours

I am not your pride.

But I am the happiest bird around your neck.

Every time a township projection team or troupe enters the village,

I am always, in the dark.

The bird that flies highest.

When I grow up

I became your pride.

You took me everywhere.

Let me learn a lot of business skills.

But you happy bird

But I can't sing a happy song.

I don't know when.

A little white hair climbed up your temple.

Stubborn bird, pulled out a crop for you and gave birth to another crop.

I don't know when.

You've been tall and straight, overnight.

Like the old locust tree at the head of the village, it bends in the wind.

I don't know when.

Today, you still talk like Hong Zhong.

Finally collapsed in the hospital bed.

But you must pat the happy bird on the head with a smile.

Say, not afraid

Okay, dad, we're not afraid.

The happy bird turned around with a smile.

Just laughed out loud.

When the bicycle bell rings.

Immediately flew out of the bird line.

Grab the skirt

Have a piece of candy.

Joy suddenly welled up in my heart.

The whole courtyard and village hills

Come and go in a hurry

Childhood memories locked in the house

It's hard to find the image of my father.

Eat only rice and sugar

Wear flowered clothes

Feel the light of fatherly love

I spend the longest time at home on New Year's Day.

Listen to the story in a circle

It became a beautiful movement.

Planting flowers and vegetables, stripping and building walls

Raise chickens, cattle, rabbits and sheep.

This tree has been strong since childhood.

Always put down your luggage and wipe your sweat.

Just carry a hoe and go straight to Xigang.

Always put down the shelf, the car is loaded.

Go to Nanjing and carry two barrels of starlight.

Always holding tea in one hand and onions and ginger in the other.

Drive away disease and pain for children

Hard-working, you are self-reliant.

Selfless and fearless, your moral resistance

For the people, you shoulder all directions.

You are tolerant and patient with the people you love.

You have a warm embrace.

You have the chest of the sea

You have to do business when you are old.

Reading books and newspapers never depends on the light of glasses.

The abacus says hello and sends someone to get the pen.

Be modest and be tough.

You are my respectable and lovely father.

You are the eternal sun in your heart.

Pro-modern poetry in August

Father wrapped persimmon trees in plastic film.

Let the sunshine stay in the heart of the tree for a while.

Tell more jokes in the sky

Persimmon blushes with laughter.

The exhaled air will also get warmer.

autumn

Father wrapped a plastic film around his waist.

Let the sun shine into your body and hold fast to the wet wind.

Dry the tears of the wind slowly.

I thought the wind energy figured it out and left by myself.

Father jumped into the pigsty and began to poop.

All day.

Fertilizer piled up into a black hill.

Squat on it.

Father began to roll cigarettes.

evening

Father couldn't sleep and sat up three times.

Father knew that the wet wind had not gone.

Father heard the wind say

It's too cold outside.

Want to cat in it for a winter?

Pro-modern Poetry 9 The teacher is a diligent gardener, watering the flowers of the motherland.

Father is an enterprising cow, raising his own children;

Teachers are sacrificing their red candles for others, burning themselves and illuminating others.

Father, a silkworm spinning silk brocade, sacrificed himself and devoted his family;

Teachers, engineers of the soul, dedicate their precious youth to building the pillars of the motherland.

Father, the pillar of this family, is willing to give his all to cultivate successful children.

Three days, two days and one day, Teacher's Day came quietly.

In this most beautiful season,

As a teacher's father, this festival belongs to you.

A thousand words haunt me, but they can only be condensed into one sentence:

Happy Teachers' Day, Dad!

Please remember:

It was you who held an oil-paper umbrella and met me in the rain lane of knowledge.

Talk about Cambridge full of afterglow;

It's you holding peas and taking me wandering in the ocean of gene flowers.

Talk about the wonders of separation;

It is you who change the latitude and longitude and take me through the gorgeous territory.

Take me to appreciate the ocean currents and the vastness of mountains;

It was your comments on the past and the present that helped me cross the passionate opposition.

Help me realize my dream of telepathy between man and nature!

Everyone's shining youth is decorated by teachers.

And my youth, under your careful guidance, is full of passion.

Sailing with your help, dreams come true.

The soul is ambitious through your careful carving!

At school, when I was thinking hard about this problem, I had no clue.

It is your patient answer that accurately describes the dark clouds that dissolve my heart;

Work, when I was hit hard by setbacks but couldn't stand up,

It is your firm eyes and profound words that make me regain my lost confidence;

In life, when I feel exhausted because of fatigue and loneliness,

It is your warm hands that silently believe in consolidating my brilliant tomorrow!

I remember all this;

I will still remember all this!

You have paid too much, and the years have already been wrapped in silver. Let me make a commitment here:

Never work hard and always face life with a smile!

A thousand words, only this sentence can express my gratitude:

Father, you have worked hard!

Pro-modern poetry 10 My father is a farmer in the north.

He only has primary school culture.

I didn't even finish primary school.

No one believes that he can write poetry.

/

He is like an earthworm every day.

Loosening, sowing, weeding and fertilizing.

His eyes are only a few acres of irrigated land and dry land.

But there is always infinite strength and patience.

/

Father is just an ordinary farmer.

He can't make much money for his children.

But harvest mature wheat every summer.

But every autumn, I harvest red sorghum.

And golden corn

/

Father used a hoe instead of a pen.

Making paper from fields

With his unremitting efforts and sweat all his life

Write the simplest pastoral poem.

/

That poem is fragrant, suffocating in his dry smoke.

That poem is fragrant, in the salty taste of his sweat.

That poem is fragrant, in the smile of sunflower on the hillside.

That poem is fragrant, in the soil that he has never kissed enough in his life.

/

Father said: when I am old.

Bury me in the field next to the village

Land is my life.

Land is my root.

Only sleeping on the land in my hometown is the most practical.

/

Father can never write poetry in his life.

However, he has been writing poems all his life.

In his poems, there are mature crops.

And those of us who have grown up.

Only those who love this land deeply.

He is the most beautiful pastoral poet.