Modern poetry about describing landscapes? What are some modern poems that describe landscapes?

Go to my space and see, there are a lot of them!

Modern Poetry Describing Landscapes Part 1: Landscapes.

A pair of dimples. Overflowing with the most beautiful tenderness.

It's like a March breeze.

Blowing open thousands of purples and thousands of reds.

A smiley face. Contains invincible shyness.

The peach blossoms are red. Drunk shy clouds.

A pair of eyes. It's always so sparkling.

Every glance into the depths of the fallen leaves.

Autumn is always the most beautiful scenery.

Modern poems describing landscapes Part 2: In front of the window, the most beautiful scenery.

There is no green grassland, there is no warm beauty peak, what am I obsessed with you?

The view in front of the window.

In the early morning, the bird catches up the dream, and the dream wakes up slowly;

In the evening, the river contains a pool of clear water, reflecting white clouds, and the clouds walk slowly.

The chirping birdsong is the most beautiful**;

The sound of the oars is the most beautiful melody.

And, there's, there's-

O banyan tree on the other side!

It is the most beautiful couple in Xiaohe.

Look at her, plump, with her hair scattered all over her head, intoxicated by the sparkling water.

The river, the banyan tree, day and night, leaning on each other, just like that, constitute the most beautiful scenery in front of the window.

Modern Poetry Describing Landscapes Part 3: A Landscape.

No coincidence is possible. Chance encounters.

A dream of Nanke who has been stranded for thousands of years.

Gone with candle tears.

A mirage that has disappeared in ashes.

In the heart has become an indelible memory.

You don't have to use old ideas.

Be a stick in the mud. It is not overemphasized.

Perfection as it could be.

Far-fetched. It's no different from.

Advocating nature. Flowing water.

Or watch the flowers bloom.

Be indifferent to. A thousandfold effort.

The embarrassing situation has not been reversed.

Skillfully borrow the pen and ink of spring.

Re-for you. Sketch it out.

Beautiful scenery.

Late Autumn Walk When I walked through the fields after the harvest, there were no crops in sight, there was no crops, it lay peacefully, like a thatched hut with dew, and the road leading to the garden was desolate.

As I walked along the path into the garden, I heard the dead grass and broken bushes.

There were bursts of mournful birdsong, more touching than any lamentation.

There was a bare tree by the garden wall, and the solitary leaves had long since withered and yellowed, and it must have been disturbed by my thoughts, and it fell gently and made a grinding sound.

I didn't go very far in the garden, I was in the dead flowers.

Pick a bouquet of pale blue asters and rededicate it to you.

Sunlight shines through the foliage;

dyed with a bright green color;

The wind, whistling;

Glide gently over the leaf surface.

the air that flows into the woods;

It also becomes sweet and soft.

Therefore, on every tree;

They all hang the song of the birds.

"Landscape".—Celan. Tall Aspen - the people of this planet! Repentance.

The black pool of happiness - you reflect death to them!

I see you, sister, standing in that light.

"Landscape".— Martinson. A stone bridge over a verdant field.

A child stood, looking at the running water.

In the distance: a horse, dragging a touch of the setting sun on its back, drinking quietly, its mane scattered in the river, like an Indian's head slowly growing.

"Landscape".—Wang Lisong. The scenery of the ancestral country is changing, digging the earth over there, building tall buildings here, hitting the hole in the ground there, and beating the sky here.

I see you, brother, at work.

I see you, sister, living in this land.

"Landscape".—Celan. Tall Aspen - the people of this planet!

The black pool of happiness - you reflect death to them!

I see you, sister, standing in that light.

"Landscape Wild Calendar".— Martinson. A stone bridge over a verdant field.

A child stood, looking at the running water.

In the distance: a horse, dragging a touch of the setting sun on its back, drinking quietly, its mane scattered in the river, like the hair of an Indian.

"Landscape".—Wang Lisong. The scenery of the motherland is changing, digging the earth over there, building tall buildings here, hitting holes in the ground there, and beating the sky here.

I see you, brother, at work.

I see you, sister, living in this land.

Modern poems about landscapes: "The Wind on the Pass", "The Sky", "In the Summer Night", "The Snow Elf", "The Color of Winter".

1, "The Wind on the Pass".

As I passed by the floods and weeds were spreading, March was a broken petal.

Gorgeous and glorious, getting shorter and weaker, some news is buried in the dirt.

The low Sanskrit voice, washing away lies and hypocrisy, the weathered stones of the branches stand at the intersection.

Looking at the gathering and dispersing, did you come after the wind last night?

2, "Sky".

When the leaves turned to the back, I was secretly surprised, and I saw age spots and violent tendons.

After the great heat, autumn begins, and the wind says that the pace of time can never stop.

There was a faint coughing sound, and the season was about to have asthma again.

The grandmother who turned around the corner of the house, before entering the door, looked at the sky and muttered to herself.

As if intending to alleviate the depression and sorrow in my heart.

3, "In a Summer Night".

The moon has not yet appeared, the lotus flowers in the pond are busy holding the lamps, the frogs are tired, and the little fish are thinking about nothing more under the lotus leaves.

Disrupting the calm of the summer night, the crickets sounded, and the fireflies flew high and far away, sitting next to my sister on the ridge.

The girl was a little worried that late at night, when her father came home, the crape myrtle flowers were red, the crape myrtle flowers were bright, and if she carried it in her hand, would the stone still hurt the road.

4, "Snow Elf".

It's a little elf, and it has a kind of magic - it gives the earth a new coat, and it dresses the earth in an edelweiss coat.

He put on a white hat for a high-rise building and a white coat for a car.

Let the swaying trees change into a piece of silver, and the new year is a good sign.

5, "The Color of Winter".

The late autumn night was a bit bleak, and I saw through the curtains that the moonlight was so quiet outside.

Suddenly, there was a gust of wind, and the tomato blew open the curtain and rushed towards me, and I didn't have time to dodge, and was hugged tightly by her.

It didn't make me feel warm because of the hug, and my trembling body told myself that winter was coming.

I winced and sat under the covers, staring at the ceiling and quietly asking myself what color it would be this winter.