Help me write a modern poem for the Qingming Festival, what are the modern poems for the Qingming Fe

Gentle spring rain. I don't know how much Qingming Xiaoxiao has.

I think this rain has been raining like this since Du Mu's time.

I want this rain to be dripping.

Still slowly wet.

New incense ash and paper money all over the mountain.

I want this rain to accompany my grandmother.

In the underworld, how many green lanterns have been boiled and extinguished.

The swaying wind, the rain, the cold and cold body.

Poignant and clear in my heart.

Heavy baggage, carrying more than just sacrifices.

It's not just nostalgia that has been accumulated.

By asking the restaurant where I can get drunk.

The spring rain of apricot blossoms and the sound of the shepherd boy's flute are endless.

Spring Rain Jiangnan The wine flag of low Asia was once a cloud banner for the spirit.

I'm drunk and sleepy, and I'm going.

Next year, I will bring wine with cold food.

Qingming Festival poems. I wrote about my hometown, rice; I write about the clear river.

I write about the fish swimming in the water, I write about the green grass on the shore.

I wrote about the female ghost who lit the lamp at night and looked for love.

I write the legend of my grandmother and Guanyin.

A person who does good deeds all his life will really become an immortal in the end.

Although she kept saying that there were still unfulfilled wishes.

I have to write this, the nostalgia that lingers in my dreams for a long time.

I have to write the scenery from your humble farmhouse.

I must write the strength of life from the backbone of your poverty.

It's like a father digging up a golden baby from a field, we all know it's fake.

But he's been digging all his life, can you believe it or not.

I had to write this before Qingming Day.

The ancestral grave has been moved, and I am almost unable to speak in tongues.

The only surname that hasn't changed, because of you, I have retained my connection to my mother.

I have to put these unfinished verses on Qingming Festival.

Burning against the northern sky.

Resources.

Written to the deceased elderly.

Qingming, the mound smoke is flying, people and ghosts meet, and they don't hear a word.

The fields are grassy, the frogs are chirping, the moonlight is blurred, and the gods are high.

Five lights, ten colors, bamboo and cypress, charm and spirit.

Like silver, like fire, it's me, suing:

I don't know your yellow face and stiff back.

Don't change your gentle voice, kind smile.

Do you smell the scent of mountain flowers?

If we are at the reincarnation ferry, we also suddenly have a tacit understanding.

1. Qingming text black light.

Walking in the wind of March, and then, hanging on the branches of peach and plum, the people and things of the year.

In full bloom, semi-in bloom.

Footsteps came from far and near, and smoke rose.

The cuckoo's song is high and low.

The sun, moon and stars are silent at this time.

Hold down the tide of thoughts and heartbeats.

Wait for a rain, drenched in solemn shadows, drenched in the earth.

2. Qingming. Wen Jade Buddha Treasure Pavilion.

Fingertips swipe, and close to clarity.

The spring rain is just sad, dripping with high speed, all the way crazy.

The eyes are wide open, just like the roar of Nagasaka Slope, how can you stop the rain flowing backwards?

Just for that trace of concern, that trace of nostalgia after the catastrophe.

The most reluctant to be clear, the source of travel.

But it's clear again.

In the evening of the countryside, a wisp of cooking smoke rose up, and the dust was sealed in the memory.

Only, this bottle of two-pot head!

3. Qingming Festival.

Text: Guangdong Blue.

In April, it was rainy and cloudy, absinthe stood all over the hillside, and the peach blossoms turned into mud.

Thousands of threads from heaven to earth imitate the loss of the town, thousands of wisps from this mountain to that mountain, fragrant mist lingering.

The wind blows between the cells of the brain, and the rain lingers in the atrium.

Silently gazing.

Dayday drama dreams scene by scene, traveling through the past.

Sprinkle three glasses of wine, serve three raw meats, order your favorite snacks and fruits, and I'm in Lanyan.

Talk to you. Confide in the secret of the buried secret room and convey the feeling of a long absence.

Are you okay in another country?

4, Qingming Wen Li Yuan.

How to say parting words when drunk.

When parting came, I watched TV and listened to songs, but I couldn't erase that trace in my heart.

Right and wrong cannot be calm, and the charm of love should not be associated with death.

You should love a man who looks ordinary.

The flowers fell and bloomed, and the moon broke and rounded.

Sleeping under spells, like Sleeping Beauty and the stars, you can't stop your loss.

Just use your imagination to tell yourself that you understand.

5, Qingming text, Guangdong Tan Yun.

Qingming, the rain in April, sprinkled one after another.

Thoughts reflect the white flowers blooming in the wild, linking the staggered time and space, and releasing memories.

There is a somewhat blurred face, rain, from heaven to earth.

And then to the eyes, pervasively penetrating.

It makes people involuntarily unload all their defenses, and the silent people are the craziest.

April in the world fills the space with white, and then embellishes it with green, guiding the people who tear and struggle in their memories to crawl back to our reality today.

Hide in a well-equipped body, seal a memory in the dust, and reincarnate in the world.

When it is difficult to leave the mourning and complain about the Qingming, the pedestrians break their souls and walk firmly.

The drizzle seemed to understand my intentions, and they all touched my eyes and clothes.