Modern poems describing huts

How much do you know about modern poems about huts? The following is a modern poem describing a hut that I compiled. Welcome to read!

The log cabin when we were young, brick by brick.

A cabin built on the flat ground

last year

They said to burn it.

I didn't see it, so

The cabin is still there.

I always like to stand in the dense foliage.

In the bushes, look out

Raindrops slide to the center of the lake.

But when I walked back,

A clearing in the forest.

The hut will suddenly burn and collapse.

In my opinion.

Like cardboard

Throw it into the bonfire, one year, January.

Burst, my early years

Living in flames.

All I can think about is

A mass of black land: the truth

Where is the cabin?

When we talk about it.

Where are the words?

I want a cabin. I want a cabin.

In a quiet valley

A sunny attic

A garden full of herbs

A tall buttonwood tree

A gurgling stream

The delicate wooden fence forms a heart.

I will plant lavender, cornflower, forget-me-not, Manjushri in it.

Put wooden tables and chairs among the flowers.

Hang a blue hammock under the banyan tree.

Grind your own coffee and make your own tea.

I want to learn guzheng and flute.

I want to keep a black cat and a hound.

Watching the black cat enjoy a lazy afternoon on the desk.

Take the hounds to the mountains to capture the unknown world.

Wake up in the singing of birds.

Make a cup of tea and taste a poem.

Cook with chopping wood at noon.

Grind a cup of coffee and play a piano.

In the evening, watching the afterglow of the sunset gradually withdraw from the valley.

The stars blow into the night sky with the pine wind.

Or do you like to call Nong back

He built a cabin in the mountains.

I said I wanted to go.

he said

There is no water there.

There is no electricity there.

There is no prosperity in the world.

(expressing surprise, shock, etc.)

There you are.

Rebuilding a small house for myself often reminds me of my childhood.

The wooden house where I lived.

That cabin has been

Distant times.

I wonder if the pace of the times is too fast.

Or is my thinking out of date?

The scene of a wooden house when I was a child

Try to appear before my eyes.

It was an unforgettable time.

dream

When I am old.

Do it for yourself.

Build another cabin.

Located on the hillside

The first ray of sunshine in the morning

Through the cracks in the wooden house

Squeeze into my cabin

Some small plots

Sprinkle it in the corner of the cabin

At night, through the cracks in the wooden house

Look at the stars in the sky

Go back to childhood and count the stars.

In silence.

One quota after another.

Touch one by one

Finally, use one pair of hands.

Give it back to the cabin in the sky as soon as it is stretched out.

There must be one in the cabin.

Made of wood.

Vegetarian table? chair

Several yellow books were spread out on the table.

Poems that have not yet been read.

A few lines of jumping poems

Swing after swing

Wandering in the wooden house

There must be one in the cabin.

An old pendulum clock

Hanging in the middle of the cabin

Let me see what time it is.

How to do it once and for all?

Leave me.

Familiar faces are

How to do it once and for all?

Become a distant and vague figure

There must be one in the cabin.

A cooker was burning all night.

Twinkling light.

It keeps flowing out of the cabin.

I must be sleepy.

The sheepdog lies next to it.

Accidental? Go smell it.

A few pages of poetry abandoned by the fire.

There must be one in the cabin.

An old kettle.

Put it on the burning stove.

Through the rusty steam.

Grab the lid

Floating, and then falling peacefully.

The door of the log cabin

Be sure to lie on my bike.

A long white horse

There is grass everywhere.

Quietly chewed by a white horse

The rations of this generation

Familiar things in the cabin

Water is dripping on the grass.

Be thought over and over again

The window of the cabin

Be sure to hang one in the wind.

Swing lantern

By the dim light of lanterns

Looking for childhood footprints in the wooden house

Sunset in the distance

In the light of Hui Jin.

A flock of sparrows are returning to their nests in disorder.

An aimless wind.

at present

Skim past my cabin.