The big waves wash the sand, and only push the quality ones
New Year
Today I'm going to put flowers on the table and listen to a new record.
Dress up nicely and put on a long dress today.
So that I don't have to say everything I see.
So that I can forget about the iron plough of death.
Dig deep into the white bones rolling in the soil.
So that I don't tremble anymore
So that I can start to be literate again—
Little girl, teach me to know the flowers in your hands.
And what I've never seen before.
The name of Little Purple Butterfly.
Lan Lan: So far, he has published many poetry collections, essay collections, fairy tales, and children's poetry collections. He is the author of two books of fairy tales and poetry. He is the author of one experimental drama (in collaboration with Sun Xiaoxing), two poetry dramas, and one dance drama script. He currently lives in Beijing.
Two ants
How to see it. The sky is huge.
How to see it. The wilderness is always boundless.
Not to mention the vicissitudes of life. The grass is withered and yellow.
Not to mention joy and sorrow. Your hands are cold and hot.
In the vastness of the world.
We are like two ants.
Carrying a round of sunset.
Paced. Long.
Riverbank. 
Liao Zhili: National first-class writer, honorary vice president of Hunan Poetry Society, and chairman of Loudi Writers Association. In 1995, he attended the "Youth Poetry Club" of the "Poetry Magazine" Society, won the Hunan Youth Literature Award in the same year, and attended the Fifth National Young Writers Creation Conference in 2001. In 2021, he attended the "Youth Looking Back Poetry Meeting" of the "Poetry Magazine" Society.
The end of the world is not far off
There is at least one temple.
Nestled in the lap of the mountains.
At least a wisp of autumn wind.
Blowing through the one I love so much.
Good looking side face.
When I stand in the dark.
Listen to the sound of the wind blowing and the leaves falling.
I pray—
Love is everything. It is a rush over the mountains and mountains.
Lin Shan: A member of the Chinese Writers Association, the 17th poet-in-residence of Capital Normal University. Published poetry collections "The Best Autumn", "Long Time No See", "Little Sorrow and Joy", etc.
In the spring
A bright spring morning.
I was under a camphor tree full of tiny white flowers.
Write to you. As soon as I wrote to the early sun, the pear blossoms and plum blossoms outside the window.
Weeping begonias. Gradually bloomed a few flowers. One writes to the wind.
The white petals of the broken wall are scattered into mud.
When you think of us, you will see you this spring.
In the field. Encounter a hungry milk vetch.
It warms my heart. The thought of the bird nesting under the eaves.
The gray-tailed finch rested on the third neem tree in front of the door.
At the thought of it, we fall in love with the same human being.
and he no longer feared death.
Qing'e: Her real name is Liu Xiaoping, a native of Wuhan, Hubei. Write poems and essays.
End of the year
At the end of the year, it collides with the swaggering maple tree.
The ringing bells of the temple hang with prayers.
My sunset didn't have time to shine on the corrugated.
The blue light flashed, and even a piece of corrugated grass was attached.
None were left.
The leaves are waving, and the beauty that has been soaked in the moonlight.
Only the chill of the land remains. At this point, the words need to be said backwards.
in order to make the meaning appear noble and great.
I make a lot of space to fill up the emptiness.
Gently rip off the calendar as if that's what I am.
It's easy day by day.
The leaves have withered and are riddled with holes.
Those cannibalized holes are like worn cotton jackets.
I stripped off my shirt and showed a little darkness.
Like the love I once had, for an arrow.
Regret for life. 
Kang Jing is a member of the Chinese Writers Association and a member of the Chinese Poetry Society. His poems are scattered in "Poetry Magazine", "Selected Poetry Magazine", "Stars", "Poetry Monthly", "Grass Hall", "Poetry Tide" and so on.
New Year
From yesterday to today, it's just a day's distance.
We were separated by a year.
This year, are you still wandering in the same place?
And I don't want to look back.
There is a green train living in my body.
It's slow, it's nostalgic, but it never backs down.
You see, on the first day of the new year, how sunny it is.
The white curtains and white paper are full of splendor.
If you have to write something on it.
It must not have been yesterday.
Like the wind: Member of the Chinese Writers Association. His works have been scattered in various publications such as "Poetry Magazine", "Stars", "Yangtze River Poetry Magazine", "Writer", "Yangtze River Literature and Art", "Works", etc., and have been selected into a variety of anthologies.
Welcome the New Year
In the darkness of light, we have.
With the silence of the lamp and the flame of the palm.
Peel back the deceptive darkness and it.
A beautiful rhythm that is not easy to perceive.
God has let us know when we have lived a certain number of years.
Suffering is nothing but a child of man, never has been.
Mother of Truth, from tonight onwards.
We have to make a settlement with it and make an agreement.
Charming friendship;We have to make ourselves what we are.
A warm ocean, do the whole in the ups and downs of the persistence of survival.
Friends of Humanity;We want to continue to give up what we have given up.
He who loves deeply continues to love deeply.
Let the pain awaken to calm, and let the joy melt into the birdsong.
Make the last warm tears, the last flowers.
A flower that is familiar with all kinds of moods but never withers.
We are to sing to our heart's content and look into the depths of the starry sky.
Tears are rolling down, and my heart is full of moving eyes.
Waiting for the New Year is like waiting for a fairy tale.
What comes to us when we are hurting, but we always believe in the world.
On the hearts that are old but have never grown up.
Tian Lingyun: Member of the Chinese Writers Association. He is currently studying for a master's degree in arts at Beijing Normal University. Top 100 writers in Shaanxi Province. For his poems, see "Poetry Magazine", "Furong", "Zhongshan", "Mountain Flower", "October", "Yangtze River", "Yangtze River Literature and Art" and other magazines. He has won the Yangtze River Young Poet of the Year Award, the Star Literature Award of Zhongshan, the Caotang Poetry Award, and the Shaanxi Youth Literature Award.
Festivals
Some people don't have festivals.
Some people leave during the festival.
Most people's festivals are a big pie.
Seductive, but without an unfamiliar appetite.
Only a few laurel leaves are dense and densely flowered.
Whoever passes by will stop.
Stick your nose out to it.
Oh, that's the aroma hanging in mid-air.
It is an all-you-can-eat aroma.
It is the fragrance of being young now and aging soon.
It will be the weakest wisp.
On the vein of a stone bridge.
Konishi: Some of his poems have been published in many journals such as People's Literature and Poetry Magazine, and have been selected for various poetry anthologies, and some of his poems have been translated into English and published. He has won the 3rd China Red Sorghum Poetry Award and the 1st Poetry Exploration and New Poetry Discovery Award. He participated in the 4th New Wave Poetry Meeting of People's Literature. He has published three poetry collections, including "The Wind Stops" and "Deep Blue".
Give yourself a New Year's greeting
The windows let sunlight into the room.
I brought tea and sat down on the balcony.
It's a lazy quiet winter day.
At the beginning of the new year, life is full of sleepiness.
I will follow your guidance.
Cherish this heavy flesh.
I want to be easy and unhindered.
Like the water of a stream, it obeys the restraint of plants and trees.
Zhang Zhihao: Professional writer of Wuhan Federation of Literary and Art Circles, dean of Wuhan Academy of Literature. His main works include many poetry collections such as "Bitterness and Praise", "Broad", "Wild Flowers on the Plateau", and many other collections of long, medium and short stories and essays.
New Year's message
Believe me, this year will not be worse than the previous one.
The bad things are almost over.
Friend who cheated me out of money.
Curse my bad guys.
Abandon my lover.
And you, the relatives I now call the undead.
I put these in my little heart.
The previous year faltered.
The most crystalline tears, it is invisible and tasteless.
I often mistake a day for a year.
Trust me, I'll sprinkle the Parisian perfume on my cuffs.
Fitness in the sun – this year.
I'm going to read out loud a friend's text message.
Bless your former lover with a shining future.
I'm going to continue to keep silent about the bad guys.
Offering a bunch of grass to someone who will never see him again.
Everything will calm down
I have a desire for a new life.
I draw the thread of love from the next year.
Li Nan: Contemporary female poet. Born in Qinghai in 1964. He began writing poetry in 1983. He has published several poetry collections. He now lives in Shijiazhuang, Hebei Province.