road
When I was young. I don't know the vicissitudes of life.
Just the road that will be walked.
Stacked one by one. Treasure it in your heart.
Trek through many years.
My longing heart sank.
Passion extinguished. By the fireside on a winter day.
In the moment of solitude.
The road will unfold one by one.
on my forehead. Silently meandering.
Poetry
Look, that's poetry.
Two drops of ink were spent.
occupied, or defiled.
A flawless piece of paper.
It carries with it the passion of the heart.
and the blood of sorrow.
appears in front of you.
Like a shy village girl.
There is no day of self-confidence.
There is only a humble night.
May this cry of pain be heard in my chest.
There will be no silence in the gaze of the gaze.
Autumn Song
It was a very pure day.
I gave up books, poetry, and **.
Sit quietly in the September sun.
Into the fall. Enter the solitude of clarity and clarity.
I think of the sky that I have almost forgotten.
I remembered that there were no wings for a bird for a long, long time.
Come and cultivate the loneliness in your eyes.
That's when you come.
His waist swayed, like a willow at the water's edge.
And the wind calms everything down.
Only your long hair.
Drifting like some kind of suggestion. I think.
Young passions can blind people.
In the crowd, I only see you.
Of all my dreams, I only dream of you.
I wouldn't have written this poem without you.
Can't stand the longer and longer cool nights.
And my heart will become a withered leaf.
In infinite sorrow, he suddenly fell into the abyss......
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.