"Like a Dream Makes the Autumn Rain Passing Over the Countryside and Mountains".
Wen Chunqiu. A pro-river is warm and cold, and the two sides smell each other's chickens and dogs.
The autumn rain moistens the countryside, and the clouds and mist float around.
Attachment, attachment, haunting childhood smoke far away.
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Wen Beiyang. Dandong's friends came last night and opened the moon with a golden bottle in his arms.
After getting drunk, the road knows the distance and sleepwalks to Penglai.
"Yinqiu".
Wen Dongcheng. The geese are singing in the autumn and the white clouds are long, and the maple on the ridge is extremely red.
A small courtyard with a clear tea fragrance, and the moon is full of the west building.
The bamboo branches skillfully make oblique shadows, and the chrysanthemum adds a touch of sorrow.
Who borrowed Dongpo's magic pen? The inscription is given to the ancient and modern.
"Seven Absolute Untitled".
Text: Chen Zhengliang.
The feelings are at ease, and the red dust and purple Mo are not touched.
Life but have a clear and happy share, a book of poetry to the birds.
"Autumn Appreciation".
Text: Li Yinbing.
The mountains are fresh and step on the willow embankment, and the golden wind sends cool chrysanthemum to the river.
The boundless sea of rice is surging, and the autumn light of the four fields is fascinating.
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Text: Li Yinbing.
The festival to the clear autumn Mo Ye Chi, osmanthus swaying chrysanthemum colorful.
The heart of the poem gradually rhymes frequently, and a song sings softly on the moon.
"Bonsai".
Text: Zhang Jianping.
The potted plants are endless, and the branches leap to meet the long wind.
The original heart is a dream of clouds and clouds, and the spirit of grass and trees is hundred**.
"Papaya".
Text: Zhang Jianping.
The spring breeze peach and plum gather at the same door, and throw Mu Qiongyao for a hundred years.
The green vine of Buddha's hand is old in autumn, and the sunset shines at dusk.
"Autumn Evening".
Text: Li Jiarong.
The sycamore leaves are not sluggish, but the wind is affectionate.
Why is it hard to travel, homesickness suddenly arises.
Listen carefully to the sound of scissors in the autumn frost.
"Quasi-Ancient Autumn Boudoirs".
Text: Li Jiarong.
Half a round of autumn night moon, a window of osmanthus shadow.
The sound of pounding clothes at night, the sycamore leaves fall into the golden well.
Knowing thousands of miles from afar, it is easy to feel that the west wind is cold.
"Dotted Lips and Few Scenes".
Text: Li Jiarong.
The scenery is scarce, and the door is closed at sunset.
The guest is sad, and who can read the past.
Listen to the sound of autumn and fill in "Desolate Criminal".
The sense of life, a dimming, looking back on the light.
"Desolate Criminal, Lonely Travel".
Text: Li Jiarong.
Travel is lonely. Looking at the railing, the country is scarce.
The west wind is bleak, and the evening smoke is sluggish.
Weeping Yang Alley. There are a few, dumb twilight finches.
Thinking about the past, the old relics, most of them have not been happy.
The end of the world is down, the guest dream is desolate, and the old tour is so good.
The years have passed, and now they have forgotten.
Write about lovesickness, afraid to write, twilight Old Testament.
It's even more Nakan and Baqiao's heart, just like yesterday.
"Sheng Chazi West Wind Cools into the Night".
Text: Li Jiarong.
The west wind is cool at night, and the bright moon floats in the sky.
Drunk asked the people in the moon, how misty the river is.
Don't cherish your youth, don't be old with streamers.
As a guest, it is better to return to the hometown.
"Seven Uniques: Yanjiang City".
Wen Jiangbo (Sichuan).
Ye Dye Xiayun shows the old city, and the river is fertile to broadcast joy.
The wind suddenly saw the flowers blooming, and the birds were full of sound for ten miles.
"Seven Unique Painting Cranes".
Wen Jiangbo (Sichuan).
Painting the crane is like water, flying to Pukou to step on the incense dust.
The pride of the bones continues, and the momentum of the twenty-fourth spring in the south of the Yangtze River.
"Seven Uniques, Hydrangeas".
Wen Jiangbo (Sichuan).
The name is Jun Gu Mu Fangchen, and the treasure bun is jealous of Cui Feng.
The sideburns are frequently floating, and the season of the family seems to be an idiot.
"Seven Absolute Flowing Water".
Wen Jiangbo (Sichuan).
The daughter is scattered and proud, and the wine is wet and Lanzhou listens to the sound of crying.
Asking from afar is clear and sad, and the blue sea is my heart.
"Seven Absolute Classmate Villas".
Wen Jiangbo (Sichuan).
Recalling the past, he thought deeply about the university, and Dan was tired of being an official.
Although the flowers outside the pavilion at dusk fall, the wild goose does not need to saddle when it comes.
"Breaking the South Township, Lonely Goose".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
Wandering to the end of the world, who knows you, drinking frost at night.
Yutian is only reading it, lovesickness is sick, and the best period is even more wrong, and I am afraid of returning home.
The old wings fall on the flat sand, and Hugh sings that, white dew.
The lake is incomprehensible and thin, the withered vines and willows, the slanting wind and shallow water, and only the reed flowers.
"Break through Nanxiangzi and answer friends again".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
I am crazy, nowhere to go, and I am alone to heal.
A pot of turbid wine Tianya Festival, youthful, lovesick and old, there is a lot of discussion.
Life is like a girl, it is inevitable to dress up and make up.
How much wind and rain is in the red dust, leisure is easy to accumulate, and it is difficult to complain, which should be considered ordinary.
"Breaking the South Township and Crossing the Wujiang River".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
Looking at Jiangdong with drunken eyes, Hugh asked who was the hero.
The souls of the eight thousand children are still there, the waves are splashing, the blood is blooming, and they do not cross the black canopy.
A sigh of ancient and modern same, the temples, full of the west wind.
Tenderness mistakes pride, swallows on the floor, big in the city, different minds.
"Breaking the South Township in the Rain".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
Tears whistling the west wind, will long hair, simply fluffy.
Let it be freshened by the rain, full of anger and depression, and thrown into the sky.
The morning bell rings in the wild temple, and the smoke and mist are calm.
Huti King Xie Wuyi Lane, the newcomer is old, the old nest is settled, and the flowing water is in a hurry.
"Breaking the South Township and Dreaming of the South Heavenly Gate".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
Break through the gate of heaven in your dreams, use songs, and control the gods.
A long howl startled the stars and moon, the jade river rolled up, the wind and clouds gathered, and the immortal roots were replanted.
Awaken and laugh innocently, hum a few words, itchy words.
The rooster crows for a while, the flowers want to be thanked, the sun is still rising, and the red dust is interpreted.
"Spread out the South Township and enjoy the plum blossoms".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
The guest is looking for the soul of spring, and there is no one in the idle pavilion and the level.
Half-squinting sleepy eyes rose slightly, as if she was smiling again, wanting to put on makeup, and dusting off the dew.
Things and I are both true, don't look at that, run the horses.
The fame is a piece of paper, the book is wasted, the sea is clarified, and the ethereal robe sleeves are accompanied by the god of flowers.
"Spread the South Township and Send the Sky Dive".
Wen Tianya is a tired guest.
Remembering this life under the lamp, comic wins, poetry and wine fame.
Some bloody crazy things, unless they are written in dreams, are unfounded.
Unforgettable brotherhood, hardships, give me long tassels.
The end of the world is spurred by the horse, the wine is placed in the idle pavilion, the Range Rover in the word garden, and the heroes are on the seat.
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.