Ask for a self created modern lyric poem, ask for a self created modern poem

Thanksgiving - Mother of the Motherland.

Looking at the starry summer night of the silent ink, the heart involuntarily shouted and called.

You are the sun of the early morning tomorrow, and I am the rain and dew that have just woken up, lying on your warm back;

You are the boundless sea, I am the boat that is inspired, and I move forward bravely under your push;

Thou art a great tree that flourishes, and I am the little bird that sent thee under the hedge, where I used to nest and sing merrily;

It was you who gave me a pair of wings to soar, so that I could fly freely and bravely;

It is you who have given me the dream of youth and given me the ability to create all the good;

You are the flower of the future of the motherland, and I am the fruit of you, under your careful care, I am constantly full and full of myself;

Who said that flowers bloom silently?

The flowers of the motherland will never be defeated, and the sound of the waves still resounds through the earth;

Only the earth understands what I am crying out, and only the motherland knows who I am calling, thank you - the motherland!

Thanksgiving—Mother, go down.

Liu Xiang** can't be cast.

Outside the art, there is a long relationship.

I will love you forever for the rest of my life.

Zhiyuanjun has the style of the ancients.

Affection for the group is in the wind.

Touching wind and moon envy Qin monk.

I miss the plum blossom and miss me.

The heart is a lifelong peace.

1. Out of context.

You stand on the bridge and look at the scenery, and the people watching the scenery are looking at you from upstairs.

The bright moon decorates your windows, and you decorate other people's dreams.

2. Love songs. Liu Bannong].

There were a few clouds in the sky and a breeze on the ground.

Yes! The breeze ruffled my hair and taught me how not to want her?

The moonlight is in love with the ocean, and the ocean is in love with the moonlight.

Yes! Such a honey-like silver night, teach me how not to want her?

The flowers on the surface of the water flow slowly, and the fish on the bottom swim slowly.

Yes! Swallow, what do you say?

Teach me how not to want her?

Dead trees shook in the cold wind, and wildfires burned in the twilight.

Yes! There are still some remnants in the western sky, teach me how not to want her?

3. Don't throw it away.

Lin Huiyin] Don't throw it away, this past enthusiasm, now like flowing water, gently at the bottom of the cold mountain spring, in the dark night, in the pine forest, sighing like a slim, you still have to keep the truth!

The same moonlight, the same is the lights across the mountain, the sky is full of stars, only people are not seen, hanging like a dream, you want to return that sentence to the night-

You still have to believe that the valley remains.

There's that echo! 4. Accidental.

Xu Zhimo] I am a cloud in the sky, occasionally projected in the heart of your waves

You don't need to be surprised, and you don't need to rejoice

In an instant, all traces were wiped out.

You and I meet on the sea of night, you have yours, I have mine, direction;

It's better for you to remember, it's better for you to forget, the lights that shine on each other at this rendezvous!

5, Shayanara.

Xu Zhimo] is the most gentle that bows his head, like a water lotus flower that is not shy, and the shyness of the cool breeze is cherished, and the cherished is cherished, and there is sweet sorrow in that cherishment.

Shayanara! Extended MaterialsThe most important poetry genres in the history of the development of modern Chinese poetry are:

From the beginning of the 20th century to the 1920s: Trying, Literary Research Society (Life School), Creation Society (Early Romanticism), Lakeside Poetry School, Neo-Rhythmic Poetry School (Crescent Moon School), Early Chinese Symbolic Poetry School.

1930s: Chinese Modernist Poetry Group, July School, Hanyuan Three Poets1940s: Chinese New Poetry School, Jiuye Poetry School.

1950s: Chinese Realism, Neo-Modernism (Modernist Poetry Group), Blue Star Poetry Group (Blue Star Poetry Society), Genesis Poetry Group (Genesis Poetry Society).

1970s: Hazy School (Today's School), Baiyangdian Poetry Group, Chinese Neorealism 1980s: New Biansai Poetry School, College Student Poetry School, Third Generation Poetry Group (New Generation Poetry Group, New Generation), Manghanism, Holism, Maritime Poetry School, Yuanmingyuan Poetry School, Spoiled School, They Poetry Group, Ugly Stone Poetry Group, Non-Africanism (Red Writing), Divine Writing, New Rural Poetry School, Intellectual Writing Poetry Group.

"Far and Near" Gu Cheng.

You, look at me for a while, look at the clouds for a while.

I feel that when you look at me, you are far away, and when you look at the clouds, you are close.

A Generation" Gu Cheng.

The night gave me black eyes, but I used them to find the light.

Broken Chapter" Bian Zhilin.

You stand on the bridge and look at the view, and the people watching the view are looking at you from upstairs.

The bright moon decorates your windows, and you decorate other people's dreams.

Grass on the wall" Bian Zhilin.

At five o'clock, a corner of the sunset is pasted.

At six o'clock hung a half-wheel of lights.

Want someone to put all the days.

Just dreaming and looking at the wall.

The grass on the wall grew yellow and yellow.

Shayanara" Xu Zhimo.

The most is the gentleness of the bowed head, like the shyness of a water lotus flower that is not better than the cool breeze, a cherish, a cherish, a cherish, and a sweet sorrow in that cherish

Shayanara! His Calling

Once I was in the poplar forest, and I heard a kind call;

At that time, the moonlight was looking at Weng Zhong, and Weng Zhong was looking at me.

I couldn't hear the call anymore, I was taken aback, and looked around—Weng Zhong was just fascinated by the moonlight, and the moonlight only sneered at me.

Looking up when it's silent, it's still a silent sky

The lotus fragrance falls, soaked in dust and mud.

Manting dance, a single condensation.

The leaves are injured, and the desert rain sinks into smoke.

The shadow is bleak, and the bridge is broken and windy.

The cold eyes turned, and the remnants were swept into the air.

"Error" Zheng Chouyu.

I hit Jiangnan and walked through.

The face in the season is like the blossoming of a lotus flower.

The east wind does not come, and the catkins in March do not fly.

Your heart is like a little lonely city.

Just like the bluestone street is late.

The sound of trampling is not sounded, and the spring curtain of March is not opened.

Your heart is a little window closed.

My Dada's hooves are beautiful mistakes.

I'm not a returnee, I'm a passerby......

--Youth Without Complaints".

When you are young, if you fall in love with someone, please, please be sure to be gentle with him.

No matter how long or how short you have been in love, if you can always be gentle with each other, then all the moments will be a flawless beauty.

If you have to separate, say goodbye and thank him in your heart for giving you a memory.

When you grow up, you will know that at the moment of looking back, the youth without resentment will have no regrets, such as the quiet full moon on the hill.

--A Flowering Tree

How to make you meet me.

In my most beautiful moment for this.

I have been praying before the Buddha for 500 years.

Ask him to let us have a relationship.

The Buddha then turned me into a tree.

Grow by the side of the road that you must pass.

Flowers bloom discreetly in the sun.

The flowers are the hope of my past life.

When you approach, please listen.

That trembling leaf is the enthusiasm I wait.

And when you finally walk by in defiance.

Falling to the ground behind you.

Friend, that's not petals.

It's my withered heart.

--Choice" If I come to the world.

Just to be with you once.

Just for that moment in billions of light years.

All the sweetness and sadness there in a flash.

Then let everything happen.

It's all in an instant.

Let me bow my head and thank all the planets for their help.

Let me meet you and say goodbye to you.

Completed a poem made by God.

And then slowly age.

--Encounter" You draw sadness in the corner of your eyes.

I wiped the wandering on my forehead.

You add a few strands of gray hair with your thoughts.

I let the years carve my haggard hands.

Then we passed around the corner.

Indifferently no longer acquainted.

Ah, dear friend.

Please don't make a mistake for that Shaoguang changing people's faces.

We're the masquerade artists.

"Under the Full Moon".

The moonlight is all over the ground in the afterglow, and no one cleans it, so fold a wider lotus leaf, wrap a piece of moonlight back, and go back to sandwich it in Tang poems.

Flattened, like a pressed acacia ......

Moonshine has the fragrance of lotus leaves.

Xi Murong gave in as long as it was in my eyes.

There was a summer day with your fragrance.

In my heart. Forever a sincere poem.

Then sorrow ends in old age.

There's nothing wrong with that.

Not seeing each other again is not necessarily the same as separation.

No more audio messages also.

It doesn't have to be the same as forgetting.

only for thy sorrow has been rubbed into mine.

Like the moonlight rubbing into the mountains, and every time.

The night is as cold as water, and it will touch my old pain.

Lin Hui because you are the April day in the world.

I say you are the April day of the earth;

The sound of laughter lit up the winds on all sides;

The light spirit dances and changes in the glory of spring.

You are the clouds and smoke of the early April sky, the soft wind blowing at dusk, the stars shining unintentionally, and the drizzle falling in front of the flowers.

That light, that graceful, you are, Xianyan.

You wear the crown of a hundred flowers, you are innocent, solemn, you are the full moon of the night.

After the snow melts, the goose yellow, you are like;

Fresh budding green, you are;

Tender joy and water float in your dreams, looking forward to the white lotus.

You are the blossom of a tree, the swallow murmuring in the beam, you are love, you are warmth, you are hope, you are the April day of the world!

Wang Guozhen cut his constant feelings.

I wanted to travel this way.

You can forget your beautiful eyes.

can be cut. The slightest wisp of affection.

and the sorrow that the autumn wind can't blow.

Who would have thought that it would end up.

The mountains and rivers are still the same. Love is still there.

Your figure. Just behind and then in front.

Zheng Chouyu was wrong.

I hit Jiangnan and walked through.

The face in the season is like the blossoming of a lotus flower.

The east wind does not come, and the catkins in March do not fly.

Your heart is like a little lonely city.

Just like the bluestone street is late.

The sound of trampling is not sounded, and the spring curtain of March is not opened.

Your heart is a little window closed.

My Dada's hooves are beautiful mistakes.

I'm not a returnee, I'm a passerby......

There are also some ...... such as "Farewell to Kangqiao", "Rain Alley", "Broken Chapter", "Facing the Sea, Spring Blossoms".These well-known poems are also beautiful.

I never want to throw away a piece of paper, I always keep it.

Leave it behind, fold it into a very small boat, and throw it out of the boat and into the sea.

Some were swept into the windows of the boat by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck on the bow of the boat.

I still don't lose heart, and I always hope that one can flow to the place I want him to go.

Mother, if you see a very small white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that he fell asleep for no reason.

This is your beloved daughter's tears, thousands of rivers and mountains, begging him to return with her love and sorrow!

Beautiful but with deep sadness, I appreciate the poems of this chief Mu Rong with literary friends. I thought I had hidden you in the depths of my old heart, ...... so deep and coldXi Murong "Xiaojing".

Wind if I were a gust of wind.

I'll give you fallen leaves.

Let you collect the magic of the four seasons.

Discover the mysteries of the four seasons.

If I were a gust of wind.

I will bring you the fragrance of all things.

Let you taste the charming aroma of flowers and trees.

Feel the power of nature.

If I were a gust of wind.

When you are in the heat of summer.

I will give you the freshest wind.

Blow away worries. Take away the heat.

This is my own creation, it may be too late, if it is good, you can write it down and use it as your "little memory").

If I were a Chen Feng, I would see that it would bring fallen leaves.

The ideal ideal is the stone, knocking out the fire of hope for the future.

The ideal is a fire, a lamp that ignites and goes out.

The ideal is the lamp, illuminating the shadow in the heart.

The ideal is the pen, the ink, imagine your future.

Ideal is the tomorrow we are chasing.

Let us pursue the ideal and grasp the ideal.