Modern poems about insects? What are some of the poems about insects?

1.There are modern poems about insects.

Morning mist. The morning mist swirls over the forest, the breath of the trees.

Sometimes thick and sometimes light, it condenses into dew on the leaves.

Rolling, merging into a huge dewdrop.

Wrap the forest in a green dream.

The birds are still asleep, and the grass is thick.

There was a sound of snoring.

In the pocket-shaped cobwebs, there is only dew.

and half of a butterfly wing flickering.

The dew darkens the shadows in the woods.

Everywhere there was the quiet sound of water droplets.

In the distant col, the morning light.

It has gradually risen like sediment.

The tin roof was wet, and the cooking smoke was wet.

I don't know how long it will take for the insect to get from the back of the leaf.

Turn over the leaves, dry the wings, rustle and sing.

2.Modern children's poems about insects Three short stanzas each.

1.The spring bird is a golden voice.

Good buddy. Early in the morning every day.

Wake me up from my dreams.

Mom said that the spring bird was calling me.

She asked me to go with her into the great forest.

Listen to nature's moving chorus.

2.Bamboo shoots. Quietly.

Arch out of the earth. I want to inquire.

In the spring. The secret of the tree green.

Blossoming news.

Nature.

Above the morning mist forest, the trees breathe.

When it is thick, it is light, and the leaves condense into dew.

Rolling and merging into a huge unfriended dewdrop.

Wrap the forest in green dreams.

Birds are still sleeping in the grass and snoring.

Pocket cobwebs are only dewy.

and half a butterfly flickering wings.

The dew darkens the shadows.

The sound of water dripping is quiet.

In the distance, the morning sun has gradually begun to sink in the col.

The tin roof was wet and the cooking smoke was wet.

Know how long it will take for the insect to get from the back of the leaf.

Turn over the leaves, dry the wings, rustle and sing.

There was a star in the sky, no, the star doesn't fly around, and in the hazy moonlight, I found, it was a lovely firefly.

In the boundless darkness, the silence of the universe has been written.

1, Han Yu's "Mountain Stone": Lying quietly in the middle of the night, the light of the moon enters the mountains.

2, Dai Shulun's "Jiangxiang Old Puppet Collection Guest House": The wind branches frighten the dark magpies, and the dew grass cries cold insects.

3, Liu Fangping's "Moonlit Night": Tonight I know that the spring is warm, and the sound of insects is new through the green curtain.

4. Li Shangyin's "Untitled": The spring silkworm is dead to the end, and the candle turns to ash and tears begin to dry.

5, Luo Bingwang "Singing Cicadas in Prison": The cicadas of the Western Continent sing, and the southern crown is thoughtful.

6, Wang Wei's "Rim River Idle Residence Presents Pei Xiucaidi": Leaning on the outside of the chai gate, listening to the twilight cicada in the wind.

7, Meng Haoran's "Qin Zhong Sends Far Away Master": The cool breeze arrives day and night, and the cicadas smell but are sad.

8, Dai Shulun's "Painting Cicada": Thousands of trees in the slanting sun, nowhere to avoid praying mantises.

9, Du Fu's "Two Songs of Qujiang": Wearing flowers and butterflies are deeply seen, and dragonflies are flying.

10, Xie Yi in "Butterfly": I sometimes see the catkins wildly, and where to find the pear blossoms when I dance.

1. The frost grass and the insects are cut, and the pedestrians in the south and north of the village are absolutely untouched. Alone out of the front door to look at the field, the moonlight buckwheat flowers are like snow.

2. The darker moonlight is half a family, and the Beidou is dry and the South Dipper is oblique. Tonight, I know that the spring is warm, and the sound of insects is new through the green curtain.

3. It is difficult to say goodbye when we meet, and the east wind is powerless. The spring silkworm is dead to the end, and the wax torch turns to ash and tears begin to dry. Xiaojing but the clouds and temples have changed, and the night chant should feel the cold moonlight. There is no way to go to Pengshan, and the blue bird is diligent to visit.

Drink and expose the body, and the charm is longer. --Don Dai Shulun, "Painting Cicada").

If you want to fight for the butterfly light, you don't thank the willow catkins. --Li Shangyin, "Proud Poems".

How far the high cicada rhymes, and the lush trees have an aftersound. --Song Zhuxi's "Nan'an Daozhong") The sound of the stream is around the cong, and the aftermath resounded through Gao Xuan. --Xiao Zifan of the Southern Dynasty "Listening to the Cicadas in the Back Hall") is clear and dewy, and the sunset branches are noisy.

The strings are broken, and the Russian pipes are uneven. --Tang Liu Yuxi, "Remuneration Order, Lonely Minister, New Cicada See Mail").

The quieter the cicada noise forest, the more secluded the birdsong mountain. --The royal book "Into the Ruoye Creek").