art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
That rainy night
Just entering the early winter, it was suddenly cold. The speed was so fast that I didn't have any mental preparation. You can wear a thin autumn coat yesterday, but you have to wear a cotton padded jacket today. The wind with the cold rain slanted on his face, like a nail thrown, which made people feel that they should lock their muscles in the cold.
By KENNETH MAXWELL4 years ago in Poets
I wonder if you will come
In this way, blowing the refreshing spring breeze, holding a line of poetry, walking hand in hand with you on the road of ten miles of spring. Years are safe and quiet all the way. Every beam of time has burned our dimples. Remember? We have a paper appointment to invite summer to share another flower event.
By STEPHANIE DOUGLAS4 years ago in Poets
Obsession in samsara
I am a wisp of soul, imprisoned in the dark forgotten river. I don't know who I am, where I come from and where I want to go. Most of the time, I am in a state of lethargy. I wake up occasionally, and my eyes are different from those I saw last time. Some of them sob, some are crazy, some are silent, but without exception, they get on the Naihe bridge and wait for Mengpo soup to return to reincarnation, while I fall into chaos again, Meng Po's voice came from her ear: microenterprises
By Dennis Ramirez4 years ago in Poets
Love is like a hairspring, and people are like catkins
Love is like a hairspring, and people are like flying catkins. The teardrop Pavilion looked at each other in the air. A stream of smoke and willows droops with thousands of silk. There is no reason to tie the orchid boat to live. Wild geese cross the setting sun, read the article net, and the grass is lost in the Yanzhu. Now there are countless worries. In the Ming Dynasty, don't think about how to live tonight--- Zhou Zizhi
By WILMON HARMON4 years ago in Poets
Green dye and breeze, dark fragrance and sleeves
Stroll around the flower stream in March, quietly listening to the gurgling stream and smelling the fragrance of flowers, so that pieces of green can be blown into your eyes with the soft breeze. In the lightness, I see the broad sky and low clouds, a high mountain and high water flow, holding a serene silence in my hand, and silence a paper of simplicity in my life. In the thin shadow of colored glass, a sleeve of silence is treasured, and the dark fragrance floats, so as to realize the truth of the wind and rain in life and the warmth of flowers in a season. Let's clear our eyes and enjoy the beautiful scenery of green dye breeze and the fragrance of dark fragrance in our sleeves. We embrace each other affectionately and carefree. The spring breeze is ten miles away, shining like wisps of sunshine and shining like peach blossoms.
By evelyn hearn4 years ago in Poets
In the early winter, a touch of floating thoughts came out
For a long time, I snuggled up to the gate fence in late autumn, and a cold autumn wind swirled. My thoughts, like a touch of fluttering catkins, slid across the fertile fields in the cold season. The Autumn Thoughts floated all over the ground. The brown leaves in the deep pool, the autumn wind was vast, the love water was overflowing, and the reed catkins danced in layers. The kingfisher on the autumn branches sang happily, and a touch of cool chrysanthemum madly dyed the fence garden. A row of wild geese swept over the top of the mountains and quietly settled in the beautiful and charming southern country.
By Amanda Freeman4 years ago in Poets
In this life, I just want to love you well
I have always felt that there is no difference between the best and the worst in the world. It depends on your angle and position. As far as people are concerned, the so-called best is the one they like and most suitable for themselves. The luckiest thing is that my intrusion also shocked your heart. I say you're stupid. In fact, I'm more stupid than you. When I'm with you, I want to be a child more than when I grow up. No matter what happens, you can drag me into your arms and tell me, don't be afraid, I'm here. Because of you, you won't get lost in all parts of the world. Without you, you can't find the north when you go out of the house.
By Ross Jones 4 years ago in Poets
In the world of mortals, only for Iraqi people to guard alone
The hand holding the pen can also write many feelings. Everything has become a castle in the air. Do you still have to wait. Hold your mind and think about it, burn out the green lights, and remember to meet you. You like to pour your attention. Note Fu, note Fu, this provokes me to cross.
By ABREEMCCAULEY4 years ago in Poets
The meaning of travel
Why travel? Is it to escape or to start again? Before deciding to travel, our hearts are filled with longing for the destination. We give so many definite and uncertain ideas to travel, hoping that it can bring meaning to us. Proust said: the real journey of exploration is not to see new places, but with new eyes. Then we can enjoy the visions in our mind countless times from different angles and light, until the scenery in front of US pulls us away from the deep-rooted impression from the TV media. But after arriving, even if we have more travel plans and give more meaning to travel, it will become far fetched. Like a map, the names of all the streets and roads indicated are clear at a glance. In fact, all the roads are like branches extending, which can not be distinguished. Or when you see the real object, no matter how winding and confusing the journey is, it will clear the clouds and see the sun, simple, direct and innocent. So the meaning of travel is to see the truth? Because we don't understand, we have to continue on the road until we understand.
By NICOLE UNDERWOOD4 years ago in Poets
I said: Hello, good night
The clouds have gone, the sky has forgotten to say goodbye, the day has gone, the night has forgotten to say good night, the leaves are falling, and the branches are swinging to commemorate their beauty. Everything is so reluctant, everything, just want to have, things are right and wrong, changing every day, don't know how to hug, don't know how to commemorate everything that has passed away, grass grows and Orioles fly, flowers bloom and fall, understand who the flowers bloom for, encounter who the flowers fail for, just walk and stop, and then embrace every inch of the air you have.
By EVERETT WILLIMS4 years ago in Poets
It turns out that the world is so small
Go to the beach. You see, the sea breeze is gently diffused, and the footprints line by line are messy but particularly lonely. I'm looking for the space to walk, for fear of stepping on your dream and waking up your dream, and you'll never find the shore to turn back. So, if you can't find the shore, will you be like me, when the tide rises, looking at the flowers on the other side into the sea, as if there were the fragrance of rape flowers everywhere. When the tide falls, gazing at the prosperity of the bank, it seems that spring will never come again.
By Thomas Petry4 years ago in Poets
