Shen
Brick and tile factory
A dilapidated scene
Unable to outline
Those obscene photos
Childhood memory
A factory that has long been riddled with holes.
Tear it to pieces and scatter it all over the floor
Crush the weight of each particle of dust
The mud bucket has long been cracked.
On every cracked adobe
Keep clear
Our childhood feet
That's volunteering for a brick factory.
Legacy left behind
The scolding of adults
Is the best reward
Impression under naked disc
highest
Full of pride.
Stepped tile mud
Carrying the artistic dream of childhood.
Give full play to your imagination.
Carve with heart
Carve with time
In the bright fire hall
Disillusioned hope
It takes time to wait.
Wait, wait, wait
We will grow up.
Baby, baby.
That's his name.
Growing up.
Like his conspicuous teeth.
It hasn't changed in years.
It's just rusted for some years.
Zawa spent most of his life in the village.
Farthest from the provincial capital
Still sick.
That serious illness
Let him feel for the first time.
The strangeness of this city
Neon tubes on the eaves
Is the best testimony.
And, of course, the hairpin on his daughter-in-law's forehead.
He bought it in the city and gave it to her as collateral.
Gifts are not necessarily expensive.
But this is the most important thing in life.
Love is that simple.
The baby gave birth to several babies.
Live a monotonous life with my daughter-in-law
No waves.
That his forehead
There are no wrinkles so far.
The face is cleaner than the day in the village.
responsibly
The responsibility of landing in the parents' era.
It's been abandoned a lot.
You can't blame your parents.
Because they are too old to farm.
I can't blame my grandson.
Because they have left their hometown.
Contradictory anxiety.
Covered with green bristlegrass
No one cares about good weather and rain anymore.
No one cares about seasonal changes anymore.
Occasionally meet in a dream
Memories are saturated with green everywhere.
Once poetry and distance
Become a reality and embarrassment.
Moldy in autumn
Slowly decay and disappear
Most of the responsibility has been transferred.
It has become an alternative rural landscape.
The freshness of the soil is still pervasive.
It just doesn't smell like cow dung.
There is no smell of fireworks.
There seems to be something missing.
Bird’s Nest
If it weren't for my father's insistence
The yard in my hometown has long since died.
Father said this is a home again.
I'd better keep it
Leave an idea
Those broken walls covered with grass
There is some grievance.
Like an abandoned child
Painful.
Looking forward to the spring breeze after many years.
Put the accumulated glory of ancestors
And engraved on the zhaobi.
The bird's nest in the tree is a little withered.
Probably because no one feeds it.
Moved out early.
An empty nest is more like an empty rice basket.
There is no value in existence.
Let the wind and rain erode
Birds foraging outside
Maybe thinking about coming back
After all, drought and flood are guaranteed here.
Actually, I want to.
Brief introduction of poet
Shen: a native of Kaiyang, Guizhou Province, now works for Gui 'an New District Power Distribution Co., Ltd., and is a member of Guizhou Prose Poetry Society. He has published nearly 100 literary works in newspapers and periodicals all over the country.