Do you want poetry, about the sky?

Fantastic skies.

Want to fly into your pure blue eyes.

Become an autumn leaf.

Flowing in the transparent wind.

When August condenses into a ray of sunshine.

I reach out and touch the sacred and gentle wings.

Like a white cloud.

Kiss another white cloud.

Skimming over a lonely field of flowers and plants.

With a faint fragrance.

It seems that the red sleeves are light.

Singing the light in the starry sky.

It was a smile shining.

can be restored to one frame.

Warm images.

Fantastic skies.

There is a pure blue autumn leaf fluttering.

Like a ship looking for direction.

Sky Zhang Yunhao.

Thousands of miles of white clouds drifted and floated, smiling and laughing at the ground.

The moon is beautiful in the sky, and the birds spread their wings and fly freely.

The Sky In winter, everyone walks through the sky.

Many years later, she and I were like these skies.

Successively fell from the world into the wind.

O people, may you walk gently through the ...... with the wind

Winter Sky

The cloudy night of December was dark and dreary.

The winter sky is grey.

He plays a new song on the harmonica every time.

Watch for me in my attic.

And I could only look at him with tearful eyes.

Flying, Towards the Sun" Series 7 "The Sun, the Sower of the Freedom of the Stars".

I like to look at the sky, and that's because its vastness encompasses all the dark clouds. What are some modern poems about describing the sky? Here are the poems I have compiled for you about the sky, I hope it will help you.

Chapter 1: The Sky.

Kiss the wind flying outside the window.

Feel the picturesque rhyme of late autumn.

Follow the edge of time to the end of life.

Along the way, I will faintly recall the oath of the past.

What is gone is the dry stone of the sea.

What is lost is the desolation of the land.

Looking back, the world has long since changed dramatically.

Only the blue of the sky.

Forever imprinted in my heart.

Chapter 2: Blue Sky.

You ask me why the sky is blue.

I said — that's the scattering of light.

I ask you why the sky is blue.

You say — I like the color blue.

Chapter 3: Memories of the Absolute Sky.

The sky where the rain has cried, the rainbow is gone, the heavy dreams have been put aside, there is no breathing pain, the intersection that spreads forever, answer to follow the rhythm, spend the whole autumn, all the memories begin to attack, you have nowhere to be seen, I am still waiting for your intersection, blowing the cool wind, the memories are turbulent, I am facing the sky, recalling your haze.

Chapter 4: The gray sky.

It's overcast, so gray, boundless, dark.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy in my heart.

Looking up at the gray sky, it was a little hazy, like my heart at the moment

Full of sadness.

I suddenly thought of you, of that day......

So I couldn't help but feel a sore feeling in my heart, and tears were rolling.

That day will always come, and there is no escape, only painful acceptance of ......

I face your distant back, and I can only think of your past face.

There are only tears in your eyes, just because you are gone......

The Sky of Love (prose poem).

1 In the sky of March, the grass grows and the warbler flies. Dream put on a white wedding dress, lying in the flower buds, waiting to get married.

Acacia sleepless, the lights are hazy. Last night's thick pages of poetry were stacked with misty sorrow.

Outside Kansai, a road that does not change the wind and rain, and the grass of spring is winding.

The grass is green, and it is related to the affectionate name of another person.

Dandelion grazing in the sky, the flower language is full of oath for a season.

2I walked past the former earth, and the earth called upon my name.

It was like a world away, like a tide flowing through my heart, and I couldn't find a way to escape.

If it weren't for the timely arrival of sunlight, the eyes would have been lost.

Haze, this umbrella, resists the blue of the sky and the fog in the distance.

I stepped on my mother's belly, rising or stopping. My degree comes from the elasticity of inner rigidity and softness.

3 That afternoon, the breath of spring was pleasant and quiet. The east wind is running with time, reaching the dusk in the west.

I held the hoe in the field and reviewed the old memories, the new memories, and the memories kept the time books of my life.

I tried to read the roughness of a piece of earth, the strength of a seed, the layers of a river.

I found that after so many years of living in the water, I was able to salvage my own shadow.

The philosophy of fish and water often floats ashore to welcome me into the water to learn to swim.

4 And the inexpensive tears were sprinkled on the land of affliction, leaving the color of the rain, half red and half black.

Rain is not rain, half of the tenderness is fierce on the side, only the crops know best.

The sky ignores the sunshine and darkness of the mood, sometimes dressed as a spoiled child, sometimes dressed as a sophisticated god.

The coming of a rain has nothing to do with time. It was I who provoked the mood, and I was destined to learn lyricism in the rain.

For the earth under the sky, for the seed of the earth, for the torrent on the seed, for the smoke and rain beyond the torrent.

5 The sky of March, full of love. What is out of reach of a person is the height of the sky, and only the rain can be so close.

If you don't go through drenching, you don't know that pain can be baptized, and if you don't look up, you don't know the hardships of rain.

If the dream of the sky can be swimmed in the water, the saying that heaven and man are one will eventually have a destination.

This unfathomable destiny pulls my left hand to learn to conform to fate, and my right hand to learn to swim against the current.

Between the left hand and the right hand, let the love come more affectionately, my sky, I come to drench. My seed, I will take care of it.

Sky Yu Jian.

The sky flows forever.

From this century to that century.

From this country to that country.

On top of the eagle and the lightning.

On the top of God.

The sky flowed day and night.

No shore, no sails.

There are no waves either.

I stared at the gaze.

That strong footstep.

Soft in this small circle.

Like a seagull.

Freedom, loneliness, laughter.

In a dark and warm world.

The palm of your hand. Paddle through the twilight of the winter dawn.

This glass of wine is quietly waiting for your embellishment.

It is cold and soft.

In the corner of the garden.

That virtual garden.

The sun shines every day.

The corpse you have planted in the dirt.

Melancholy resists the last frost.

The grass that pierced through the dirt sighed.

Slip through your fingers.

At this moment, the blue sky shone brightly.

A pair of wings that want to spread.

The heavy back is calm and smooth.

Flowing deformed castles.

Crying and laughing.

Like an electric wave flashing in.

Pearly eyes.

The man sang a husky love song.

Igniting the early spring night.