Good poems of the day on the road three other poems .

Mondo Culture Updated on 2024-02-05

On the road (outer three).

Wen Huang Qingsu (Zhejiang).

The world is not without its contention with me.

If you don't pay attention, you'll be killed.

Throw off the nameless ridge.

Everybody is floating.

Life pinched me into a sweat.

Every hair shines out.

Chaotic days.

The fishtail of the poem? ?Shatter the ice of time.

Outside the window, the plum blossoms are as crisp as a firecracker.

The heart is unique and rhymes.

Silent Grey Tiles are singing.

No matter how pale and yellow the poetry is, it will fly flowers.

I heard the arrival of birds in spring

The wind and snow are gone.

There is no need to ask how much area there is in winter.

I heard the birds arriving in spring.

Squeak here? ?There is chirping.

The steaming wilderness was lively.

Withered skills bloom and hold the hand of fate.

All things take on the appearance of longing to communicate with spring.

Noise from above? There are uncooled nests.

Draw in shadow highlights.

The lark remained in the sky and echoed.

Nourishing the simple spring.

It's too late to ask if.

In the old days, the mud nest urgently needs to be repaired with the spring text.

A rope

Snowy in a shower. The jackdaw crept into his heart and whined.

Weak cooking smoke sticks to the grass and skinny bones.

Poverty strangled fate deep throat.

* Colorful hopes.

Escorting ascetics.

Coldtooth writing does not add value to itself.

Speechless? Merr writes.

Who sent the red mash that forgot the worries.

Tim I have the power to cut through all odds.

Bending over and bending the back like a building about to take shape.

Narrow doors

Ten buttons, nine narrow doors do not open.

Again and again boring returns.

The last ambition is still rusting the bike.

In the halter. No one avoids the dull ringing of the bell.

The deformed freaks vying for fame and fortune are crowded.

Hats off to the disgusted with um.

Patch the wounded soul with a patch.

Don't be a lonely. Both the clothes and winter clothes have been changed.

Relaxed. Be a thought breaker.

The envoy is an impregnable wall.

Smash it too. Don't let the small narrow door be invincible.

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.

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