Signing writer Yu Chenghong: Poetry and prose blending innovative dreams and the atmosphere of the times

Fish Chenghong: Poems and prose blending innovation dreams and the atmosphere of the times

1. Introduction to the writer:

Yu Chenghong, his real name Yu Chenghong, Ruian, Zhejiang. For a time, he was written because of going to the sea. He is currently the managing director of a physical company in Shanghai. The ninth phase of the National Poetry of Poetry and Poetry and Poetry of Poetry and Phase Issue Tenth Senate Trainee. He began to create in the 1980s, published hundreds of poems, lyrics, prose poems, and micro -prose in newspapers and periodicals at or above the provincial level. After returning in recent years, the author pays attention to the creation of prose poems and micro -short prose.

Second, the dream -burning person

Literature is my childhood dream, and this dream was ignited by my mother. My mother was the daughter of the landlord, and her grandfather fled rushed away, which became her long acacia. I have been trapped hazy in the rhythm of my mother's poetry since I was a child.

My mother and her mother, apart from the distant strait, always stubbornly "shake and shake, shake to the grandmother bridge" humming, the voice is sad and soft, but she can coax me to sleep. Before school, she taught me to literacy and recite the next level, and laughed at my little ass: to the next level, the buttocks were smooth. In order to let me complete her homework, I even locked me in the room. She tells Qu Yuan's story, saying that it is a dumplings to feed fish, and to do not hurt the ancient poetry of ancient poetry. She often sings the song alone. Although the sound is a bit pant, she occasionally runs a bias, but whenever she sings the funeral flower of Yue, her eyes are wet, and the Erlangshan and Yalu River are highly passionate.

She also let me "Liu Tong, Red Crispy Hand" to interpret Li Shangyin's silk poems. The beautiful and tragic, as well as the gentle and bold, rigid temperament. My mother is the enlightenment of my poetry and my poet. Helpless, the late hoe can only face the grave.

Third, farewell to Shanghai

So Poetry Miao Muya grows in my heart. I have won awards in Wenzhou and Zhejiang Province. Literature has covered a small hall that has a glorious golden years and can only be rewarded by myself. I felt the biggest gain at that time was the admiration of a large group of boys and girls, and a large and happy time.

In the early 21st century, I went to Shanghai in Shanghai. This is not a dream, nor is it to worship gold and abandon silver, but for the family to pay a stop loss for the family. Therefore, Meng Duke in Shanghai, and Wen was buried in Jinshan. And I did not disappoint all my eyes, and on a few times in Shanghai on the red list of honors.

Falling the leaves and thinking, I wander up, and I have no reason to give up my original dream. In 2020, I farewell to Shanghai and waved in Shanghai, and returned to Ruian, a millennium ancient city.

Fourth, come back and reflect

But I thought it was wrong. These twenty years are enough to make a young man who is chasing dreams can become a masterpiece. Yes, the students who used to be left behind. But I have the role of authentic student role, everything starts from scratch, restarting my literary career. I know that the slowest turtle can also throw off the sleeping rabbit. If it is difficult to mix with the old singing, I think about trying in my one -acre three -point field, and I want to go through the new tricks.

In the past, I was good at writing poetry, as if I had hit the north wall. At the age of age, the aging blocked the crazy, the brand new words, the new image, the brand -new jump, the hazy deep cultivation, the hazy high -built, and hazy bullets made my cultural and creative guns lying in the gun. Later, I did not rush poetry, but changed the genre, shifted from poetry to prose poems, and then excessive prose from prose poems to slightly short prose.

Recently, I have paid attention to the tug of war that exposes or praises. The exposure says that the darkness no longer spreads; I want to play fifty sticks each and give their respective rewards. At this time, my Wenjin seemed to be abolished again, and now I realize that returning literature is a nirvana of myself. Literary creation is not only the joy and joy of life autumn, but also a feeling. Self -reshaping and heavy social responsibility.

5. Poetry blending

"Poems and prose blending" are my recent thoughts, and it is also a trial after returning, and play it in words:

"Poetry and Prose Blend" slightly short prose quotation

Yu Chenghong

Forty years of learning poetry is enough to make apprentices suffer a decadent old man.

After so many years of studying poems and writing poems, I always feel that I am still a foreigner. Whether I went into the dead end of poetry, or the poetry itself hit the south wall, I was confused. Many people are saying that there are more people who write poetry than reading poetry now. This is not unreasonable. Because the jump width and haze of modern poetry are getting higher and higher, because more and more people who do not understand, fewer and fewer people want to see poetry naturally. Even if you are interested in poetry, they only have the poems of niche poets, and most people who write poetry still insist on bite the teeth of the years.

It is undeniable that modern poetry takes hazy and jump as fashion, as if understanding is not a good poem. This undoubtedly caused the poetic road to become narrower, lacking the diversity of poetry itself, and more and more away from the rhizome and the context of the times. Therefore, it is difficult to outline the spirit of the times in modern poetry. I also tried to catch the highlights of the footsteps and life in different methods, but it is often difficult to reflect the truth, and it is often difficult to show poetry chewy. It is commonly rational that, in addition to different inspirational flashes, or for different expressions, in addition to different techniques, there should be no similar genre.

I think genre is just a tool to carve literary works to achieve emotions and aesthetics to readers. Recently, I explored the rewriting of poetry, emphasized the creation of prose poems, or simply changed the old poetry to trial. Although the creation was very small, there were certain feedback. Enlightenment. However, in order to sing the positive energy of life, express life, or pass the whole of life, it often needs to be added with some details, but the result is a mule between prose poems and shorts. In my opinion, a beautiful prose poem can be said to be a good short, but a exquisite short prose is not necessarily a traditional prose poem, which gives us a new topic. Throughout the history of literary development, the formation of any literary form is inseparable from the background of the times and the time of time. I want to take the red line for horses and donkeys, and try to create slightly prose in their own one acre and three -point field with the concept of "Poetry and Prose". And according to the modern rhythm, try to dry the water of the prose to satisfy the speed reading. It contains two layers of meaning: one is whether this creative idea is feasible; the other is the acceptance of readers of this genre. It is worth mentioning that the two cannot be confused, feasible, and do not explain the quality of the work; the approved works do not prove the innovation of genre. I would like to say a slightly obsession with three words and two words, and attached several groups of representative practices, and the power was used to attract the jade, so as the teacher and readers were promoted.

Attach some micro -short prose:

The years written by the feet (seal)

Yu Chenghong

String leaves

When I was a kid, my mother was the most nagging. My weak shoulders couldn't stand up, and my father sighed heavy.

In the early summer, the dead leaves floated my surprise, and the denseness of the spring was full of the ground. In the summer that started to heat up, my spirituality instantly burst into fire.

I made the roots and cut my head. Whenever school, walking on a large piece of mud, stringing the leaves with a piece of leaves, and then drying it with a sack, it is the same as my desire: waiting for burning.

For a long time, the mother burned the fire with the leaves. Later, I often said to my mother: Mom, how are my meals particularly fragrant recently. The mother did not answer, just smiling.

Dug in Panxia

Due to smoking and drinking more sputum, the mother often mentioned that there is a medicine called Pinellia's medicine that can dry and expectorant.

So I told my neighbor's elder brother that I wanted to learn to dig Pinellia. During the holidays, I took a shovel and a basket, and followed him to a large area of ​​the town countryside that had been reclaimed. As the name suggests: Pinellia grows a teeth on the stems of Pinellia May, buried in the ground soil, but a cluster of emerald green leaves are exposed outside and leisurely in the summer wind.

This is like catching and hiding when he was a kid, his head drilled in the firewood and his buttocks were stunned outside, and fools could be found. Following the exposed green leaves to the melon, the shovel was dug, and my pearl -like Pinellia was exposed. Tomples one after another after shovel, gradually filled the baskets, but Tu Garden was potholes, and I shoved countless holes in that season.

My mother used Pinellia to cook medicine for my father, and sometimes put porridge in the pot. Looking at my parents' gratifying expression, I was full of pleasure deep inside. The mother said that the extra semi -dried sun -drying station was exchanged for the money, as my book fee for my next semester.

Picker

The peach blossom blooms, and my heart flowers are also blooming. In this season, the fat mud snails are climbing the sea to coat the mud beach.

When I was a child, my father's income raised six family members and shared economic pressure for the family, but it became a choice for my spare school. This season, I always follow the neighbors to pick up the mud snails ten miles away.

At the age of ten, I rolled my pants, barefoot, mentioned a paint bucket, and followed the adults. The beach coating after the ebb is broad and empty, as if it is another new world, full of temptation. The mud snails were placed in the barrel one by one, and the sea breeze blew gently, and my young heart was constantly rippling with a hint of ecstasy.

On the way home, seeing seedlings and wheat, remembering the neighbor's words: seedlings of green wheat yellow, mud snails into groups, I thought about it all the way, my mood was like rice tide and wheat waves. After a few times, the family hoarded a lot of mud snails. The mother marinated the mud snails and became a delicious dish on the table at home.

I always picked the largest mud snails, and put it in the jar, waiting for the father who went home to visit relatives.

Sugarcane

When I was a kid, I didn't know what nutrition was, but I knew that we lacked sugar.

In the autumn harvest season, Xianfu pulled to the sugar factory to process the sugarcane boat, walked on the bank of the pond, walked through my childhood desire, and walked into the young sorrow of the young heart.

At that time, I was very young, but my skin was thick and thick, probably the reason why I was desperate. "Uncle threw a sugar cane", "Uncle dump a small one", they begging for my sincerity, and they are often indifferent.

I walked with the cane boat and sipped, sore my feet, panting a long and long road. Suddenly, in the sound of the sound, surprise was still hanging on the face. The little begging tricks made me sweet for several hours.

Now I think of it, but my face is very hot and hot, so far I fully realized that I was aimed at the kindness of the cane farmers, but I was stubborn by my persistent stubbornness.

Touch the snail

When I was a kid, my father threw us a lot of prizes and smashed our little head. Some riddles can't get rewards. Some riddles have gradually emerged from the bottom of the river of life with the accumulation of life experience and experience. My family lives on the side of the Tanghe River, and the slowly flowing river water has stirred the song and laughter and the unforgettable story. I often catch fish, shrimp, and fishing in the river. The deepest memory is to touch the snails in the river, because it makes me feel the mystery of indulging for many years.

Every summer, I go to the river to touch the snail. Wearing pants into the water, sinking into the bottom of the river, in the gap between the rubble and silt, use your fingers as the positioning of the screwdriver. I touched a lot of snails as I wished, and put them in small wooden pots floating on the water. At night, the snails were free from the seams of Lei Shi, and half an hour was filled with the basin.

The seized torrential products are raised in the water basin with a few drops of vegetable oil. When the sludge was faded, and the small hat on the buttocks was cut, the mother used ginger garlic and peppers to stir -fry a delicious dish in the pot, and fried into a family's cool surprise. From my mother's snails to fried snails, I finally remembered my father's riddles:

"Strange and strange, the bones are raw, the beard grows on the bottom of the teeth, and the hat is worn on the small fart." I think this riddle is a rhyme of rhymes, like the snails fried by the mother.

Brick

At the age of nine, my house was built with a new house and covered the earliest reinforced cement house in the town. My father took out the drawing, and I suddenly lit up in front of me, covering my original dream in my life.

No matter what structured house is covered in the south, the bricks are inseparable, just as the building blocks cannot be separated. Every time the bricks were transported, I was drawn by the boat, and I imagined the appearance of the new home in the future. Looking at the relatives who came to help, I was so busy and busy, and I was busy without saying a word.

I found a pair of bricks, and fifteen bricks in three hands were provoked, even if I was stunned. Once my father saw it, he smiled and sipped loudly: When your son come on, it is also a new house for you to marry your daughter -in -law in the future. I didn't want to think about what my daughter -in -law looked like, but I felt that my father's cheering was the highest reward.

This is the original burden of my life. But marrying a bride in a new house in the town has become the imagination of me for a long time in the future, and the hazy sinus is bright and bright.

Driving

At the beginning of the elementary school, the sports equipment had not grown on the lawn, and the playground was empty. The idle between the class has become the golden time for us to play. The teenager is good, and the two -person cooperation of the project is the best choice for boys. One person dressed as a horse head for a fork and opened his legs on the shoulders of the other person. The two pairs of classmates opened this way to see who pulled the other party first.

The ringtone sounded at the end of the get out of class, and the booth swarming, many students shouted together: driving the head of the horse, driving the front of the horse, who has the strength to follow me. I am a activist of the front of the horse, but every time I wear a horse's leg, it seems that the scenery of the scenery always missed me. But I insisted on practicing horse steps, and as a good supporting role, and finally my classmates gave me the nickname of "horse -legged king".

Whenever the victory is divided, the playground is cheering. Often the winner's horse head is more favored by the onlookers, and he lifts him up and throws it in the air. The 呼 shouted, the sweaty of the forehead was penetrated, and the greenery in the middle of the playground became a bald man. , I almost yelled: the head of the horse, the head of the horse, and the horse's legs carrying the horse. The ringtone sounded, and the shouting of the noisy shouting and my inside was uneven.

Just like my life, I am all dressed up all the way. The school membership committee members. The factory only as the factory director and the authorities have been deputy. The Democratic Party is destined to have a relationship with me. Today, I still remember the self -made Shunxun as a self -proclaim: driving the head of the horse, the head of the horse, and the wild Jun Lieju;

River wheel

When I was a kid, my mother often gave it to me and read a song of Mao Zedong's water.

I learned to swim when I was four years old. At the beginning of the year, I just showed my face. Most of the afternoon, I was soaked in the Tanghe River, chasing, playing, water warfare or catching bandits. Favorite the roll ship, whistle whistle reminds the boat to come, and the mood is immediately motor. The bold and carelessness, crossing the rapids, suddenly grabbed the cable, and rock briskly in the rapids.

I have already flew to the sky. The town, the banyan tree, the green dragon and white tiger roof, and the small black shed around me, the Monteci flashes quickly.

I held a white cloud and soared in the sky, so I embraced it intimately with the waves and clouds, until I was close to the ship's port, and then I was loosened.

Often, I followed the cable, jumped into the ship's side, stood on the back of the boat, waved hands with the familiar low eaves, and made a ghostly face to the friends on the other side. Turn over a fierce and frightened season.

The story in the water was interpreted to the Mid -Autumn Festival. When I was familiar with Mao Zedong's water -tuning song, I was ignorant and understood what the waves were.

Teacher

Ten years of cold windows, the talents of the town, like the Tanghe water in front of the house, dangling all day. I also have to pat the butt work. Fortunately, the director of the teaching office next door wrinkled with compassion for me.

I was only sixteen that year, and I was not tall, and my face was tender.When I entered the classroom, it turned around, and the stubborn stopped became a stepping sound, but blushing was the melody of the classroom.The blackboard is too high, and the child is too low. It stretches the waistboard to write, and the tip of the foot is painful.Occasionally, I simply brought a small stool with a raised body, which made the handwriting pull the angle of looking up at the stage.Later, I learned: Teacher baby became a secret nickname, and it was shaking in the rain in the campus.

The experience of substitution has become a stepping stepping tile for me to boast and bragging horses in the future.The inadvertently raised details on the stool made me see the higher and farther life landscape.

July 8, 2022 in Ruian

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