Modern Poetry in Late Autumn

In late autumn. The sky is sad.

Those rustling leaves

Much like its tears, in the wind.

Turn around and fall

Walking under it, I gave birth to many things.

Many unknown autumn waters

Above eyelashes

As blue as the sky

As cold as a fallen flower

two

The crops have been harvested in season, so I have to

Hiding in the dead weeds. Dewdrops are tears in late autumn.

In its crystal clear morning light, I am in a daze.

Soft eyes, and

Black lips condense all the cold migration.

The vicissitudes of life in the world are close to the desolation in winter.

three

Who makes autumn more desolate?

In late autumn, a pool of autumn water fell into my eyes.

The croaking cicada is lower than the goose going south.

A mournful howl

Your breath is like rustling leaves.

flying all over the sky

No matter how calm I am

I can't avoid you passing through my artery like a bow and arrow.

Above. With the peculiar cold of late autumn.

Into my blood, into my legend

four

Late autumn, lonely sky

Half the moon is floating.

It's very cold.

Desolate.

It is a wine lamp that takes away thoughts and washes away lead.

I'm losing ground and ruining countless green fantasies.

The cold has entered the heart.

It turns out that the lamp I praised at the beginning

I can't keep my lush summer.

After a gust of north wind, all the flowers fell and the birds flew in surprise.

I walked through the eyes of autumn, and my language was bitter, anaemic and yellow.

five

Waiting for a fallen leaf

We missed the rich lake.

Late autumn evening, the wind makes a cup of spicy wine.

You take a sip.

I drank a large glass.

Joints, if there is faint fragrance.

They must have been in pain all night

The ubiquitous white oozes from the bones.

Look, your hair is messed up.

The fallen leaves are like nautical charts, and my eyes are confused.

In late autumn, I never returned to the place where you were taken away.

six

With the deepening of autumn, the sky becomes higher and higher.

You sit at the window and look at a lotus flower.

Oblique rain has been woven for 3 thousand years

I picked the last colorful flower from the branch.

Sad lyrics

Autumn doesn't understand amorous feelings. Try to use unique colors.

Rendering season. The notes will fade

Although we carefully ponder Qiu's heart

I still have to admit that the wall is empty

Even the shadow is redundant.

seven

Autumn rains are repeated.

I know, they just want to prove it.

Humble in autumn

Even, my eyes, in the autumn rain.

Multiple injuries

I wouldn't care, either, on the broken bridge by the post road

There are no pedestrians to cross, and a boat is in the autumn rain.

Originally unknown.

Drink these autumn waters and never meet again.

I won't miss it. In this season

Memories of the past can never warm the coolness of fallen flowers.

eight

I know

Before the frost and snow came, the memory was doomed.

I also know that if the light goes into the night like a needle, sleep will be weak.

But I have to admit.

Autumn is just a season.

You are just my season.

After this season, the clouds will be white and the sky will be blue.

Your rustling piano will be replaced by winter fire.

In late autumn, a gust of wind is behind you

Sigh at the back of autumn

The whistle of pigeons will change the idea of autumn.

Blow into a gloomy and harmonious tone

You are a bird flying across the plain.

Holding a clear white cloud.

Sleeping thoughts about mountains

The scenery coming from the distant mountains

What is the coolness of early autumn?

In the face of this vague memory spread by the sunset

My mood

It's a little twilight.

A gust of wind can't take away a cloud of sadness.

Time is dancing gently behind me.

In this cool ball that was accidentally blown by the wind.

Thoughts flow and leaves fly.

Reach out and touch this emotional snowflake

I can still feel the dust of those years.

The fire of old emotions is still burning.

The seed of sunshine, the source of this emotion.

Still like a fermented airflow.

The gurgling sound comforted our hearts.

Even if the warmth of memory can ignite the cool season.

On the Time Gap

But there is no real river to turn back.

Just like this slowly passing autumn.

If you lose it, don't look for it.

What is missed will not be retained.

Just silently waiting for this eternal state of mind.

So can those lost feelings.

In fact, there can be another bumper harvest in late autumn.

Modern Poetry in Late Autumn March 15

I am curious to see the sky of osmanthus trees.

Others are happy or playful. A person's home

August 15, only the face of the wind is left.

I dare not stop it. This is a disease.

At present, I am still on the road.

On the way to the news. The city is moving towards unification.

Life, a wisp of autumn wind block.

The moon is full tonight, but I am haggard.

I hold my pen tightly and will prepare the news of the reunion.

Interview it sacredly. then

Write a missing manuscript and send it to yourself.

Let the cabin that has been abandoned for a while emit smoke.

Five o'clock in the morning.

Take care of yourself, five o'clock in the morning.

I said to the computer. In order to make a living

In your transparent memory, a painful face

Still on the run for twenty years. From your life today

Come to this strange city. Did you get a look at him?

Raindrops under other people's eaves are lonely.

This is the life of Yin and Yang teacher to me at the moment.

What can I use to express this way in the room?

Hesitation, pain, helplessness, sadness

The house is very narrow, there are few household appliances, and there are not even women.

This room is so deserted, it's five o'clock in the morning.

Where is the real happiness?

I thought about it, more than once.

trivial matter

A boy's qualification is in my home.

It never happened. The bell struck twelve.

A dishonest guy. How can this bed belong to me?

River bank crossing time and space

I kept my memory selfishly, like lightning.

Think back many years. I seem to remember.

That will only increase bright eyes, and

Sexy lips and kisses are all shining love.

I am nostalgic, but the stars and the moon on the roof

Can't replace the sun.

Flashlight kerosene lamp flashlight

Still can't illuminate the other side of reality

The old mammy is no longer mysterious and looks amiable.

The way I tore my wedding photo sadly.

disappear

I know you haven't left yet. Five o'clock in the morning.

The wound torn by the wind continues.

Looking for vagrancy. I'm on my way home.

A bird hasn't faded under the eaves.

Memories of love, when dawn comes.

You seem to build castles on mounds and weeds.

One night. Stones cling to each other and keep each other warm.

And you, alone, disappear like lightning.

Autumn? flame

Blue sky, white clouds, thick hot air

The heart is burning weakly, inside and outside the body.

There are already fireworks. It's autumn.

A shadow I haven't seen for years

Who and my figure are on that mountain.

Dance briskly, with slow steps.

Falling in the dusk, embracing the unknown sunset.

In your heart.

In your heart, I found the source of my dream.

So I kept dreaming. real

Don't bother. Sorry now

I use another way.

Wake you up from your dream. It's time for you to wake up.

I find it painful to wait for a cloud.

Just like you and me, so close

But it seems far away.

Very serious. In your heart or in my heart?

Secondary acacia has been seriously produced.

In my mind, seeing a rainbow is not far away.

It's just that you've drifted over that cloud.

From the horizon to the rainbow, just around the waist.

My eyes, lock you in that direction

Finally arrived

The wind is strong, so I follow its direction.

Spiral upward. In that rustling jungle

I am eager to know the truth, but I

Not just for what ordinary people say.

curiosity

The leaves dragged their tired bodies.

You walk away bit by bit.

Gradually, the shadow of the sun fell. ...

I like this tragic experience.

And you care about the so-called results

The wind has gone on one journey after another.

I still stand on the glory of the past, nostalgic.

The sound of the horn, and you in the smoke

A bird song interrupted the memory of history.

The leaves fell and lay quietly on the ground.

This is you and me.

Coming for the last time in my life

Old gloves

Sitting in the middle of the room, it is autumn outside the window.

Clean or elegant. Cool sunshine

Rise and fall, come and go.

Go and go, just like you and I used to.

There is no agreed meeting, and it hurts in my hand.

Fully accept happiness in disguise.

The sun went down and there was a chill in the room.

The most painful old gloves hidden in my heart

Time and tide wait for no man, you can't wear it in the wind.

I'm thinking: if there are 1000 freshmen.

Me, and your sunburned face.

Will not change the original intention of never meeting again.

Those raindrops fell on my heart.

Last night, I gave you a pure hug.

Tears are useless, or because they are too heavy.

Persimmons are red, on the branches in autumn.

I want to have a good pain, don't waste it.

The blue of the sky. Melt a drop of rain

The greatest wish to find that point.

The autumnal equinox is facing the crack, which is not naive at all.

When I woke up, I enjoyed it alone.

It's still messy when you cut it.

Those raindrops fell on my heart.

Not just narrative.

Connect your dreams where you don't belong.

Under the moon, don't take into account the bright lights of the city.

At the flashing traffic lights, new concepts appear and disappear.

Temptation is bound to reappear. Tonight or tomorrow?

Dress yourself up as a city resident.

Shop clothes cosmetics lipstick

Familiar and unfamiliar, wandering in the midnight of the city.

The news that the woman in lipstick fell to the ground on the fourth floor made the local headlines.

Suddenly, there was a thunderbolt outside the window.

In order to keep chastity, in desperation

The fourth floor of the city tolerated this bizarre story.

I don't know why I am silent at the moment.

Bedroom poet, in the office at eight o'clock.

Proofread the news of tomorrow's city leisurely.

accord with

Walk in the street and jump for it.

Pour sb.' s luggage into the city

People come and go, and the tide rises and falls.

A breeze blew overhead and the city was in turmoil.

The bus sped by at a speed of 100 yards.

The days in the backpack, by the puddle

Follow one foot deep and one foot shallow

From one station to another.

From one pier to another.

Even from the recruitment information to the eyes that ignore it.

I'm not in a hurry to dodge

Prepare to forget the joys and sorrows of life.

But cities are unreliable, just like at the moment.

The facts show signs of regret. inevitable

I survived another intestinal obstruction.

The distance of a grain of sand

The dream cried in the dream, because there was a shadow of the dream.

About you, a grain of sand in life

Stick to one's direction, what can the river take away.

It's just a body, but it can't take away stubborn ideas

Like my sturdy head and buttons on my clothes.

For example, my body is destined to wander.

And duplicity but persistent arrogance.

A grain of sand hurt my walking foot.

And another grain of sand won't leave too many memories.

The sadness of a tree

Empty for a long time, depressed for a long time, down and out for a long time.

Maybe I should leave and wander.

Go to a strange city to find who stayed.

Walking in the autumn wind, the coolness of the slightest bit soaked the thin clothes.

Every pore of mine is inhabited by the shadow of the wind.

A yellow leaf fell from the sky with the help of a tired dream.

The leaves fell to the roots. The law of the times and the pain of the Millennium

The mood blown down by autumn is still on the muddy road.

The soul floats and the air is silent and empty.

Find a piece of dust and let the fallen leaves inhabit.

Born of self-destruction, the sadness of a tree.

Beautiful but sad

Late autumn wounds

Maybe I really should leave.

Return to yourself. Look at the rainbow

That's nylon woven by life.

Please let me take you with me, floating in the wind.

Thousands of miles away, leave a corner to collect.

Time is a silk thread, every second.

My nerves hurt.

Time takes everything away, and the first frost begins.

There are too many puzzles in the world.

Secular, cruel, melancholy, even suffering.

Walk into the wound in late autumn through your eyes.

Staring at the smile on your mouth

Time flies, and the bloom flowers fall.

Late autumn, modern poetry 4. Missing heart

Make the autumn wind more cruel.

Endless nights

Stupid osmanthus tree

Staring into your distant eyes

The sound of the moon

Why are you so strange?

boat

In the cold wind and rain

Lonely drifting ......

I am like that kite.

Floating in the silent sky

My heart is blank.

The distant land is so vicissitudes.

A reincarnation

hurry away

Lots of scars

in your eyes

Melt quietly, melt ...

Hidden moonlight

Tell the legend of acacia

Every word

Are all deep love.

The sound of heartbreak is like thunder.

In the lonely air

Loud and sad

tears

Broken pearls and jade poured down.

The moon is hidden in the dark clouds.

Put behind sb.

Erase a scar

A full and tasteless life

Seasonal changes

Deduct a few paragraphs

Touching love story

Gather and disperse acacia

Lily Valley with Broken Love

The dream is broken

In the late autumn wind and sand

The dream is broken

Submerged in weak beauty

In late autumn, I twisted an autumn leaf in my hand.

Stand on the top of the mountain and feel the nature.

That countless sadness pierced the heart.

Wandering in late autumn with inexplicable emotions.

Wandering along a lonely path

The lingering thoughts are rippling waves.

Accustomed to the impetuousness of the world

Even in late autumn, people are fascinated.

But! Late autumn or late autumn?

But every emotional lover

It is impossible to enjoy it calmly.

Because there is always an unspeakable sadness in my heart.

Look! Dead leaves fluttered with the breeze.

Swaying in the branches, trembling and crazy

Late autumn, the world of orange rendering.

Everywhere is full of sad acacia.

The afterglow of the sunset passes through the forest path between pavilions.

Like blood, it radiates gorgeous light.

What tourists are walking in it!

It is eating away at it bit by bit.

Those flowers that used to be proud and fragrant

At the moment, it is like a frosted eggplant.

Reflecting the withering of sunset from petals to flower roots.

Only half a breath is left to fight against fate

What kind of magic does late autumn have?

Let life mature and then be lonely

Everything that is full of vitality.

The autumn wind sweeps everything away and returns to dust.

Late autumn, modern poetry 6 maple leaf red.

The north wind is stumbling on the road.

All attachment is still full of branches.

Just silently watching.

Let the tears flow on the crimson leaves

And then condensed into concern.

Say one last prayer before winter comes.

It takes a short time to walk from the ground to autumn.

As short as a cigarette.

The footsteps of the years sometimes

It's too light and touching.

That red leaf

How like crying red eyes?

Along the rut of missing.

All the way down

Autumn is a sign of maturity.

Autumn is not the end.

This is a periodic rest.

Is the nirvana of the next rebirth.

Touch autumn

Only wordless joy.

No sadness

Go through a summer

How many ups and downs have you experienced?

Autumn precipitation nostalgia

Farewell to late autumn

My heart is full of warmth, because

There is only one cigarette between winter and spring.

In late autumn, modern poetry is full of colorful clouds at 7 o'clock.

You fly with the reed flowers at the end of the sunset.

You inadvertently bypassed us and others' faces.

Some people say that you are the joy of harvest.

Some people say that you are clearing the troubles around the branches.

Actually, I stayed up reading you.

At that time, you were in my heart, and crows flew across the boundless sky.

I said you, I will always remember you.

When I was young, I sang you softly in my songs.

I don't have a gray hair yet.

You are a poem that crawls through the years and the night.

If, today, you are dormant in the corner of the season

Am I making cocoons in poetry?

I am quiet.

Waiting for spring in silence

If I seal it with a Buddhist word,

Does it take 500 years to break the cocoon?

Who says you're not a painter?

You finally painted a cavity of acacia into a plain color.

But also in a boring and ethereal world.

Naughty, put handfuls of hot, wantonly daub.

As soon as I saw it, Haitang was on fire.

Sorghum became a fire

The maple forest at the foot of that mountain

Burning the earth, burning the branches

It also lit my way to dream.

Seasons have always been legends of two worlds.

I'm also in an elegant phrase,

Send away the last batch of geese flying south

When you follow the footsteps of a gust of wind

Peel rice from distant mountains

I give you the happiest hug.

Perhaps, your Qingjiang River has been washed.

I passed the black magpie on a cold night.

Maybe you are a floating cloud.

When the sky is high, it passes through my eyes.

Maybe it's you, in the dark night.

So close to me,

I often fantasize that you are a glass in the moonlight.

Or, you hide in the seven colander.

How can I forget you?

I forgot to breathe, and I can't forget you.

I loved you that year.

That year, I left you

I hummed you gently that year.

That year, I put you in a graceful word.

That year, I made you into a cd and sealed it in one memory after another.

That year, I looked back and you were in the sunset railing of pale day lily.

Your tears that year dissolved the continuous autumn rain.

That year, your poems were very narrow, narrow into a slender path of falling flowers in your hometown.

And I went to the appointment tacitly and listened to the voice of the fallen flower.

You also told me that you fell asleep quietly in a fallen flower.

You know that, right? I often spend time with you.

Honey, I will remember you.

Honey, I will fall in love with you.

Like you-plain.

October-late autumn