Butterfly modern poetry, poetry or prose of butterflies

The poems or essays of butterflies are as follows:1, "Jin Se" - Li Shangyin.

Jin Se gratuitously fifty strings, one string and one pillar Si Hua Nian.

Zhuang Shengxiao dreams of butterflies, and hopes that the emperor will trust the cuckoo in spring.

There are tears in the pearl of the sea and the moon, and the blue field is warm and the jade is smoking.

Can this be recalled? It's just that it was already clear at the time.

2, "Spring Festival Travel" - Cui Tu (Tang).

The water flows and flowers are ruthless, sending the east wind through Chu City.

The butterfly dreams of thousands of miles away, and the cuckoo branch is on the third watch of the month.

The old garden books have been exhausted for many years, and Huafa Spring is only full of mirrors.

Since you don't return, who will fight for the smoke scene of the five lakes?

3, "Proud Poetry" - Li Shangyin.

If you want to fight for the butterfly light, you don't thank the willow catkins.

4, "Miscellaneous Poems No. 8" - Jin) Zhang Xie.

Report on the work and throw yourself into the border city, and bind the Rong brigade.

Get off the car as yesterday, looking at Shu four or five yuan.

By asking, when is this? Butterflies fly to South Park.

Liubo loves the old pool, and travels to the old mountain.

Fujian Yue Yiwen, Hu Ma is willing to Yan.

The origin of the local customs is certain.

5, "Qujiang Two Songs" (No. 2) - Tang) Du Fu.

Returning to the day and the spring clothes, the river head is drunk every day.

Wine debts are commonplace, and life is rare for seventy years.

Wear flowers and butterflies to see deeply, and fly with water.

The rumors and scenery flow together, and they are not contradictory to each other for the time being.

6, [Water Tune Song Head] (Pan Xiangjiang) - Song) Zhang Xiaoxiang.

God paid me for this matter, and it was a wave in June.

Outside the cicada dust, the butterfly dreams of water and cloud township.

Modern poems about butterflies are as follows:

You Are My Butterfly

You Are My Butterflycarrying the wings of two men on their backs; What are you a butterfly? I can't wear the eyes of my love.

You Are My ButterflyFilled the box with my excessive love; You seem to have been pinned to a silver needle by time; There is no escaping my stiff love for you.

You Are My ButterflyCarrying the thoughts of two people; How are you a butterfly; I can't escape the dream I hate.

You Are My Butterflypinching my tears in the palms of my hands; I regret the love; You also can't seem to forgive me anything; Can't wave the rift's wings.

I'm not a butterfly, I don't understand; I'm not a butterfly, I can't fly; Nor will they die in the box of love.

Features of modern poetry:

1. Modern poetry is free in form, rich in meaning, and focuses on the use of imagery rather than rhetoric, compared with ancient poems, although they are all made for the feeling of things, and they are all reflections of the soul, but they completely break through the characteristics of ancient poems of "gentle and generous, sad but not complaining", and emphasize more free and open and straightforward statements and communication between "what can be felt and what is not felt".

2. The mainstream of modern poetry is free-form new poetry. The free-form new poetry is a product of the new cultural movement, which adopts the vernacular in form, breaking the shackles of the old style of poetry, and the content is mainly to reflect the new life and express new ideas.

3. Poetry is beautiful, and if you want ordinary things to shine with the brilliance of beauty, you must use imagination. Imagination is the source of beauty, and it is also a poetic storehouse. A good imagination is a poem in itself.

1.Butterfly, front dustMaybe in a previous life, we were just two butterflies.

The fragrance of each flower flew by.

Also, those bamboos are green breathing.

I'm having the same dreams as you.

Look at the silence of each one.

There is a faint fragrance in the finely crumbled.

That glimpse, it's too late to be engraved.

Those years, just follow.

The sound of tapping footsteps pierced through the red dust.

And I, only remember a few hours of light.

2.Butterflies, light songsJust follow you all the way.

A light song, in the deepest part of the red dust.

Drunk my eyes.

A smile, gentle.

Under whose brush, bloom.

Gently fluttering water sleeves.

Wobbly across the bluestone bridge.

Far away, it's not you.

At the approaching ferry, wait.

Find a ray of moonlight and infuse it into your palm.

No need to say how charming the flowers are.

Time has faded into your eyes.

Look at this drop of dew, it is like tears.

3.Butterfly, flowing yearsI've been looking for too long.

I found a little sadness.

An encounter, I only remember what you look like.

The past and present lives are in the flow of the seasons.

Thoughts that have nowhere to put them.

Bow lightly on your brow.

If you don't speak, I won't say anything.

Stand on top of the red dust and bow your head.

Those moments, just in a hurry.

The light tune hummed three lives and three lives.

4.Butterfly, fragrantShake your fingertips and flick off the dust on your hands.

A hint of wind blows the mood to pieces.

The splendor that fell to the ground.

How to interpret my sorrow.

The time of dependence is short, and the search is long.

Those flying years.

Whether it has turned into a cloud of smoke in another world, ethereal.

Have a quiet time! I think.

Reminisce about those memories that are about to be lost.

I was looking back, but you were standing on that shore.

Look at me in pairs.