Rainy Night Book
When I miss you. Outside, there was a sudden storm.
Let autumn be deep, and it will still be as hot as summer.
Suddenly, it froze.
Clothes hanging on the balcony struggled.
Like the story of the past buried in the bottom of my heart.
Want to get out of control. I know.
I can miss you here with me.
but they shall not come to thee and find thee.
Boundless wind and rain, as if the only remaining reason.
Over and over again, out of the darkness.
Wash away this world that is a little brighter.
I used to think that a moment would be short.
But a few moments of thought.
But let me live like a year.
The rain hits the roof, and the wind knocks on the doors and windows.
Lightning flashed. and it will brighten up your countenance.
until I fell asleep.
The rain continued.
Go ahead and scrub some dusty episodes.
And after waking up. But forgot everything.
Only the ground is still wet.
Proof last night. There is wind, there is rain, there are dreams...
Wake up
Independent cold wind. A mottled dead branch.
Diagonally inserted into early winter.
The hustle and bustle of the river. Hibernate in the whirlpool of growth rings.
The last withered yellow leaves.
It is the ship of return.
Withered cables in the north wind.
Point to the approaching snow.
Your distant face.
An old peach blossom.
Sleeping like fire, under the captivity of the bark.
Expect to wake up. In Tiananmen Square
I've always wanted to come to this place.
It's not the countryside that surrounds the city.
Nor is it the rebel army that wants to conquer the capital.
Rather, it is a path that extends from a poem.
Lead me to the core of Chinese civilization.
From teenagers to middle age.
From high-spirited to full of complaints.
Struggles and dreams in poverty for most of his life.
Finally, I was able to see your true face that has not changed for thousands of years.
When others came, I came.
I'm not a tourist, I'm a homecoming.
Magnificent and splendid castle towers.
A little familiar, a little unfamiliar.
I can't hug you.
Only with the gaze.
Rub you over and over again.
The day is too noisy.
The hustle and bustle silences you.
There is only a quiet night.
Only then can I be allowed to wander alone.
Listen to your whispers.
Let the prosperity go away.
Let me put my ear to the old floor tiles.
One overlapping dynasty after another.
Breathing softly in the depths of the earth...
Author:Li Ping, a post-70s amateur writer and part-time poet, has been insisting on writing in the cracks of making a living, was recommended to join the Hubei Writers Association in 2021, and was elected as the vice chairman of the Xian'an District Writers Association in Xianning City, Hubei Province in 2022. has always been busy with work and survival, reading books in his spare time, insisting on writing, although humble, but never sighing, alone in the text along the path of poetry to the otherworldly spiritual palace.
Read the Sleep Poet Shooting.
Face the sea and look for the light with your black eyes. Founded on November 16, 2015, the Poetry Club takes "speaking for grassroots poets" as its mission and promoting the "spirit of poetry" as its purpose, that is, the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty of poetry, the artistic innovation of poetry, the spiritual pleasure of poetry, and the revelation of poetry to living life.