Create your own modern poetry Create your own modern poetry

Original modern rhyme poems, rest assured to use.

The Prosperity of Love" You say that you are a flower floating in the world.

My weary wanderer is crazy to take you off.

Thou hast hindered my pace with the lies of passing on words and rhyme poems.

The green trees and red flowers outside the window worked hard to bloom all summer.

When will the wings that once flutter come to pick up a prosperity?

Lonely to the point that the red suit wants to be removed.

Complete the last summer of twenty years old.

Stop at a myth that you always praise my genius.

Encouraged me to be my own audience for many years of falsehood.

Ignore your worries by moving to other cities.

I will also talk to strangers when I am exploring my way.

but they will not be able to abstain from the punishment that will be brought about you.

It turns out that love has to struggle hard to realize how great you are.

By then, I had already wandered to the end of the world.

Recalling the angry words at the beginning, I regretted that I couldn't extricate myself.

A rainbow fell in the vast sea after some rain.

I made a wish that I would love her even if I was silent for the rest of my life.

You are the flower that will never fade in my soul.

Years. That's always the case!

Youth is a simple song.

Or there is lily incense.

Or there are wind blades.

Who said that the years have washed away the old face, but the face has deepened the years.

Into the wood three points of the notch.

Keep a record of the time that has passed.

And what about the reliefs?Forget the vows of the past.

What about the guqin?Stir up the wind and moon of the millennium.

Thoughts. The beginning or end of the unconscious is like a game.

Horizontal lines are drawn, vertical lines are drawn.

Outline the ease in calm.

It doesn't have to be moonshine.

Slanted shadows.

But he still wanders in such a moonlit night.

A bystander, weird and nervous.

Lost in the silence that filled the room.

Look at the sky. A line flashes in the sky, and there are two white clouds in the sky.

From a distance, it is a fairy bridge, and up close, it is a rainbow.

Poems written in May.

The most special encounter.

May 9, 2023.

The sunset of spring warms the world.

Just take a look. You go with me.

And me. Cold arrogance.

In your eyes, it's still what you love.

I want to turn it into a decoration that you like.

So silently accompany you in the purest pure land.

Because of you. Be brave to face my quiet planet.

The longest-lived passenger.

The troubles of my student days.

May 12, 2023.

School bags and pencil cases support our expectations of knowledge, but as time passes, you and I are no longer that child.

Learning, friendship and love constantly refresh our cognition, and we who choose the latter two are eventually swallowed up by friendship.

Nothing. If you start over.

I want to learn, I want to get hot.

Orphaned. Completion of school.

Pursue love. Concerns are only directed at the former.

I did the latter.

Sun Yong. My story with nature.

May 13th.

You can't succeed overnight.

Don't crave spring.

I only want to climb in the dark and find my roots.

A few handshakes to accompany Xiaotian did not come back.

Spring. This voice is heard at night.

Look at the dawn. Thousands of bamboo shoots turned into bamboo.

Only then did I know that I was in the depths of the bamboo forest.

The Red Army explores and survives in the dark in the dark.

Heroes who sacrificed their lives for their country.

There are also anti-chaos and epidemic doctors.

Hero. Red eye sockets.

The wind of graduation. May 24, 2023.

The May breeze blows the horn for the final exam.

The big test is imminent, and every second counts.

But I don't want graduation season to follow.

Elementary school leaves the last page to your classmates.

The full name of junior high school and high school uniform.

Witness, we depend on each other.

Graduation season. Don't say goodbye.

Said looking forward to seeing each other again.

In daily study, work or life, when it comes to poetry, everyone must be familiar with it, poetry is rich in beauty, sentences are generally arranged in lines, and attention is paid to the beauty of structure and form. What kind of poetry have you seen? The following is a collection of self-created modern poems that I have compiled for you, for reference only, I hope it can help you.

I used to be a 3-year-old child, clinging to my grandparents, I was a confused child, walking bumpy, I made mistakes, I was reprimanded by my parents, I was praised for the first time, I was so happy, I had a crush on a girl, nothing more. I forgot that when I was younger, I used to play hide and seek in the garden with my friends.

Chasing and playing, playing pretend games, I thought about buying a goldfish for my parents.

But they said, "You're too young, if you want a goldfish, tell us!" ”

I wish I could grow up and buy them goldfish.

The day before school started, I wondered if the first day would be as charming as kindergarten.

Is it like the teacher in the kindergarten there is kind.

Whether it is like kindergarten has "free" delicious ravioli.

Is there a genuine camaraderie like on TV?

Most importantly.

Can you grow quickly and make money to buy goldfish.

I remember that I was the most active of the students, and maybe, my longing, lasted until the next day, when I suddenly realized that it was not okay.

I grew up until the fifth grade, and I had seen the world through, and I had thought about having that vision again, and I had thought about being a human being again.

I used to take that innocence back to fifth grade.

In study, work, and life, you must have seen classic poetry, which is a literary genre that expresses social life and the spiritual world of people according to the requirements of certain syllables and rhymes. So what kind of poetry is good poetry? The following is a self-created modern poem that I have compiled for you, for reference only, you are welcome to read it.

September Feelings:That September maple leaf.

Unloaded of the spring. Green makeup.

Wrapped in golden.

Look around the corner of the season.

Leave a patch of autumn frost behind.

Scattered souls have nowhere to hide.

The September wind.

Exceptionally cool.

With the seasons turning.

The sorrow of falling leaves swept over my heart.

The clouds used to be light and light.

It still flows in the tip of the pen of memory.

The feelings of that September.

The maple leaves are yellow and yellow.

Scenery along the way.

Empty all the way.

Pick up the poetic heart of words.

In the long years, it is full of affection.

Fu Yuan:

In autumn, the flowers wither, and the flowers fall lightly.

The wilderness destroys the grass, and the cold window dreams.

No one is idle, and he asks the sky dove.

A line of white shadows, shocked but countless flowers.

The moss dominates the soft mud, and the single branch picks the white clouds.

Birds flock and sing in the mountains.

If the spring is good in the coming year, the flowers are not conceited.

Willing to be a ghost under the flowers, drunk Chunhui.

To Syrian refugeesIt's a life-and-death migration.

The dead pray for the living.

The living weep for the dead.

However. Paris is not paradise.

Damascus is not hell either.

I don't believe it. Which flag.

It can really be peaceful.

I don't believe it either. Which face.

It represents the so-called justice.

I only know the wounds of the world.

It was already so painful that it was impossible to breathe.

For thousands of years. Blood has long since moistened the land.

Why can't you stop killing?

When will it be.

Let a thin flower of humanity.

Bloom in the wind against the sun.