Eight original poems by Zhou Xuekong
1. Xiaokang Garden.
The East Garden hears the sound of chickens.
Listen to the ducks in the West Garden.
Birds singing in the trees and sheng under the trees.
The lotus carp makes trouble in the dragon court.
I like to cross my neck with the mandarin ducks.
The bunnies are smiling.
The Bull Demon King is born in a bull pen.
The pig canopy hummed.
The lion rolls the peach blossom bush.
The dry boat shakes the lotus lantern.
Spring breeze is everywhere here.
On poetry, it is not as good as Tao Yuanming.
Who said. —Taoyuan is endless.
2. You and me.
Two floating ants in the bitter sea.
The wind sends a leaf boat.
Three thousand miles of weak water.
You and I swim in the waves.
A trip to the wind, a trip to the rain.
The rope is pulled off. Doesn't straighten.
Nine bends and eighteen bends.
The spring breeze of reform is warm.
Green on both sides of the river.
You help your granddaughter.
I'm Larry Sunman.
Take a dip in the Danjiang River.
and enjoy the big view of the circle.
Laughter and laughter.
Fill cars and boats.
3. May. Snowflakes flutter and dance.
The infatuated smile is as big as a plate.
If the ghost of Daiyu is there.
The flower mound must break through the sky.
Fourth, my friend and I are courteous.
That year. He raises sheep, and I raise the earth.
The knife that cuts the tail hangs high.
Jun Fei bean sprouts did not nod.
I am not a lobster, not a waist.
Dumb each other eat coptis.
Willing to be punished and not cry out for injustice.
I had no choice but to give him an article.
Autumn grass withers and grows again in spring.
When the winter comes, the spring breeze returns.
May you not be blown down by a storm for three thousand miles.
Accompany me to seek a new life in the vast world.
Then. An old man draws a circle with a giant pen.
He hatches chicks and opens shops.
I keep bees and contract the fields.
He became a 10,000-dollar household.
I became a small boss.
The reform express has straightened nine curves and eighteen turns.
5. Condolence. The village secretary Jianliang came to offer condolences.
Paper smoke lingers.
Presumably the ghost is affectionately nostalgic.
Yawei was honest and honest during his lifetime.
No sycophancy, no flattery.
Don't send the village official half a piece of paper.
The spirit of Jianliang bowed.
One bow. Tears splashed emotionally.
Paper smoke is full of sadness.
Second, the wind and the sound of mourning hit people.
The rain weeps and drips ecstasy.
Three worships. Mourning cannons accompanied by flutes to send the city.
Personally spill wine to see you off.
A glass of wine and a glass of tears.
The cup is full of fish and water.
6. You're welcome.
Beehives are arrayed under grape, pear, persimmon, and orange trees.
Their flowers are a good secret to bees.
They are not stingy or polite.
Topless**. Let the bees suck the sweetness.
The small parasol is for me, and the bees will not abandon the sun.
You're welcome to the fruit.
Constantly bouncing mischievously on my bald head.
And kiss my crumpled face from time to time.
Sweet. Itchy.
Thirsty and hungry is a good time for me to fish for money.
You're welcome.
The toothless black hole seized the opportunity to latch on to the grape pear.
Feed the head. Nap.
Inspiration is inherently welcome.
Pouting ass. Put the mouth puffed with grapes and pears.
The sentence of touching the persimmon orange on the head was coded into the poetry collection.
7. Winter oranges. Steep northerly winds.
Shake a tree lantern.
The leaves are greener and the lights are redder.
Ye waved his hand and nodded.
Summons the Flying Jade Dragon.
Another plum tree burned.
8. Beekeepers.
in life. Overgrown with flower buds.
The warm breeze blows fragrantly.
Refreshing. Imitation of the Great Sage blows monkey hair.
Heavenly soldiers swarmed. Take advantage of the breeze to spread thousands of miles.
Overwhelming. Honey flows like a stream.
Drunk him, drunk you.
Look up to the sky and smile and look up.
The white clouds are long. Full of poetry.
About the author] Zhou Xuekong (male), known as Lao Zhou Apiary, was born in 1949. He is a native of Dengzhou City, Henan Province. Chasing flowers and honey. Graduated from junior high school. At the age of 71, his poetic heart germinated and took root in "Qiying Literature". At the age of 72, he sprouted on many platforms such as the People's Account and others. Accidentally, I fell in the Chinese poetry competition and picked up a first prize.