Help find modern poetry! I m going to write a modern poem, help!

If I were a bird, I should also sing with a hoarse throat:

This storm-stricken land, this river of grief that forever rags with us, this angry wind that blows endlessly, and the ...... of the incomparably gentle dawn from the woods

Then I died, and even my feathers rotted in the ground.

Why do I always have tears in my eyes?

Because I love this land so much

- Ai Qing, "I Love This Land".

(Cold window) is far away, but the hard work is not over!

Bai Xue told me that winter is only temporary, and spring is not far away.

The time was too rushed to write.

Make do with one.

A gust of east wind blew through, suddenly, the old face, with great affection, and then look back, at this moment, with all the heart to witness:

Even if you are reincarnated, you are still my only choice!

Flowers" persistently, until the last moment of life, still blooming the most beautiful flowers.

that graceful and falling figure;

One piece after another, connecting the poet's inspiration!

"Goose" looks back again, looks back again, needless to say, it is all lined up with the word "person" and the word "one", unwilling to sigh, this is missing, but also leaving home!

The night moon hid herself in the clouds, and the wind cooled the night.

A few yellow leaves swirl, ending the flying wishes.

The shadow, which had been stretched so long, almost melted into her psalms.

Waiting, autumn, red leaves ......

I wrote it myself, but it was a group.

Qili Xiang Xi Murong.

The stream is in a hurry to flow to the ocean.

The tide is eager to return to the land.

In front of the hedge of green trees and white flowers.

He waved goodbye so easily.

And twenty years after the vicissitudes of life.

But our spirits return night after night.

The breeze blows by.

Then it turned into a garden full of tulips.

Analysis: This is a delicate and touching beautiful little poem, full of sincere and ardent love. When we walk through a colorful flower, a pleasant path, or pass a solitary flower, a remnant of green, do we think that there are some reckless creatures around us who are watching over us, blessing us, loving us deeply, beautiful and happy because of our existence?

Love is a kind of pain, but also a kind of happiness; Sadness is a kind of happiness and a kind of pain. Is there really a reincarnation of creation that accomplishes the continuation and transmission of emotions? Or is the beauty around us revealing a message of love?

When we are children, we want to be a blossoming tree, hoping to mature. However, time ignores desire. Growth and transformation is the inevitable process of flowers blooming and falling, and the beauty of time lies in its inevitable passing.

The flowers blooming under the sun are thick and heavy, and the desolation of flowers falling in one place is abrupt and sad. Could it really take 10,000 years to cultivate the human form, and another 10,000 years to cultivate the seven emotions and six desires, before you can stand in front of your loved ones and shed the first tears.

Maybe it was destined to be wrong in the first place, but I don't want to believe that our fate is only a coincidence. Five hundred years of waiting has been exchanged for the moment of meeting, and if I wait another five hundred years or more, will you see how my tree-filled expectations fall for you?

Walking through, stepping on the flowers layer by layer. That's when I realized: Encounters are not beautiful, encounters are wrong.

In ordinary days, blessed are those who can take the truth and love seriously!

This poem allows us to see a lonely heart, full of anticipation of love but seemingly unknown. Her (his) emotions are sincere and fervent, and there is no lack of persistence in her mourning. To be a manifestation of love requires perseverance.