Dad has several obvious blue veins standing out in each hand. The palm is yellow, the back of the hand is light wood, the lines on the palm are deep, and the ten nails are cut very short. Dad's hand is still very big, a whole circle bigger than mine, and not much smaller than the exercise book that usually writes homework. Dad's hands are not so delicate and rough to the touch, but they make people feel warm and full of strength. One hand of my father can lift me to the top of my head.
The biggest feature of dad's hands is warmth. In winter morning, my father always tries his best to send me to school. On the way, the wind blew so fast that it almost blew into people's bones. Although I put on a lot of clothes, I still feel very cold, especially my exposed hands and face, as if I had been cut by a knife. At this time, my father will let me behind him to help me keep out the wind, carrying a heavy schoolbag in one hand and holding my cold little hand in the other, wrapped tightly, pulling me away, and the wind can't blow me anymore. Dad's hand shines on me like a ray of soft sunshine. Suddenly I feel that my discomfort has disappeared a lot and my heart is warm. Along the way, my father's hand kept holding my hand, which made my hand warm, but my hand gradually became cold and red.
When I am frustrated or sad, my father will reach out and pat me on the shoulder and touch my head, giving me the greatest encouragement and comfort. When I walk a long way, my father will pinch my leg with his hand, which makes me feel very comfortable and never tired again. When I get the honor, my father will make a V-shaped victory with his hands and have a good time with me.
My father's hands are not as tender as mine, as clever as my mother's, as industrious as my grandmother's and as industrious as my grandfather's. However, my father's hand can bring me truth and happiness, and make me feel different, gentle and kind.
I love my father's warm hands, and I care more about my father!
The detail fragment describes his father's hand, and the chairman also raised his hand and raised his dark gray helmet. He lifted it slowly, just like lifting a heavy object, bit by bit, bit by bit. When he raised it above his head, he suddenly waved and stopped in the air.
(Between Waves) When describing Chairman Mao's actions, Ji Fang gave people the impression that there were five words of "lifting" and one word of "waving", as well as various rhetorical devices such as metaphor, exaggeration and repetition. Then the author used a long argument: "This seems to indicate a process of thinking and made a decisive decision.
The chairman fully understood people's feelings at that time and expressed them with his own actions. This is a concrete historic action, which sums up the intimacy between leaders, comrades, comrades-in-arms and the broad masses of revolutionary people during the historical turning point, and their incomparable determination and courage. "
This discussion fully reveals the theme of the article, making this detailed description the focus of the full text.
3. Father's industrious hands (hands love me for details) Father's handwriting composition is 600 words.
600
word
These hands are very strict,
Encouraged,
And smart.
These hands are rough,
There are so many hands in the world.
In the middle, it is small and insignificant, but it holds up a blue sky for me.
Your hands are hard. When I was a child, I was selfish. I often lose sleep because I think about myself. have
"
Everyone did it for me.
"
Consciousness, but never
Have you thought about it?
"
Both belong to two people.
"
When my brother and I piled wood, we piled together and were taller than anyone else. The building blocks are gone, and the younger brother is better than
I was tall, and I was not content, so I reached for a few pieces, but my brother refused to give them to me. We got into a fight and I scratched my brother's hand.
Brother cried. I clapped my hands happily, took all my brother's building blocks away, and called my brother crying baby, crying even harder.
Fierce. You came in and asked what was going on, but I turned my head and didn't answer. You're angry, raise your hand, you never hit me,
I don't want to hit me. I thought you wouldn't hit me and become more rampant, but your hand fell down and slapped me in the face.
I
"
The sound of crying or vomiting
"
Crashed with a clash, tears are like pearls with broken lines, drop by drop. You are so distressed, wipe it off with your rough big hand.
My tears, reason with me, I won't cry. That was the first time you hit me.
Your hands are inspiring. In the third grade, my Chinese, which has always been good, plummeted, with only 80 points. hand out examination papers
Right here, the bright red eighty-six seems to be laughing at me impudently. I am walking slowly on my way home with a test paper in my hand.
How I wish I would never make it to the end,
But after a while,
I walked to my house.
Fifteen buckets in my heart
——
Up and down,
I plucked up my courage and took out my test paper, waiting for my father's hand to fall on me. Unexpectedly, you didn't hit me, but
Explain the questions to me carefully and understand the wrong questions. I took the exam again, and this time I got 98 points, the highest in my class. I went crazy all the way.
Ben, just to let you see the test paper earlier. I clung to the test paper for fear of being blown away. I came home blushing,
Eager to show you the test paper,
You are very happy.
Come and pick me up.
You taught me carefully,
This is why I am so successful.
Although you are a big guy, you are very handy and can cook simple meals. Mom wasn't at home that day, and it was just you and me at home.
You searched the kitchen,
I only found a handful of vegetables,
Two carrots,
Three sausages and some eggs, you invited me to eat fried rice with eggs.
Ok, let me answer you. I like everything you do. You are very happy to cook fried rice with eggs. Beat eggs, scrambled eggs, cut vegetables, carrots, incense.
Intestines,
Everything is so skilled,
I stood by,
Drooling,
Look greedily.
You have a spoon in your hand,
Clever bombing.
Yellow, green, flesh color, white and red make fried rice with eggs beautiful. I ate a big bowl, and you watched me eat happily.
When I grow up, I will cook you fried rice with eggs, take care of you and support you for a day.
Describe my father's composition in detail. Looking at my father, he seems to be always so tall; Looking at my father, his shoulders always look so safe; Looking at my father, his face always seems so kind; Looking at my father ... I don't know since when, it has become a habit for me to look up at my father.
This kind of parallelism sentence should not be used at the beginning of writing a family composition, but can be written directly from the bottom. When I was a child, I was my father's sidekick.
I was very active at that time, and I couldn't be idle for a moment. I only know playing with my father, holding his wide and warm hand tightly, feeling the warmth of his palm, and unwilling to let go. Two round eyes looked at his father's back from time to time.
Although my father is not very tall and straight, even a little stout, he is tall and straight, full of confidence and strength. Looking up at my father's back, I feel full of security now. I feel that even if the sky falls, my father can carry it for me.
I felt my confidence doubled and even my head was lifted unconsciously. The calendar at home was torn off page by page and replaced with one after another.
I have full confidence in my father. After several years of madness, I gradually left my father's side and made a number of friends of my own. Naturally, my friend replaced my father. I spent my time with my friend bit by bit, but I forgot my father. Looking up, I found my father.
I learned to be like a child, but suddenly I found that my father was not what he used to be-he was old! At that time, my father's body, which has always been tall and straight in my memory, has long been slightly hunched over by the burden of life, and his back, which has always been full of confidence, has also been smoothed over by trivial matters in life, making him look slightly hunched over. When he passed me, he reminded me of the fallen leaves in the autumn wind.
When I took my father's hand again, was it still the hand I knew and missed? Those are a pair of hands that make me completely strange. The shocking blue veins on my hand beat my heart, and the thick cocoon on my palm shook my soul.
Yes, I am growing up and my father is getting old. My eyes are moist and my nose is sour.
My father bought me everything with his love, his health and everything today, but he never complained. We had some rebellions in adolescence, which made the two generations have more generation gaps and hardly had time to talk to him.
But my father is working hard for us silently, and his back is a little lonely. Maybe he didn't expect anything. Seeing my growth, he was comforted by his inexpressibility. This is his happiest thing. As a daughter, how much have I done for my father? Even if I talk to him, I always say I have no time.
Looking up at my father again, I know that my father's devotion and love to me are worth looking up to and returning with my life. In my heart, my father's figure has a height that no one can surpass.
5. A 500-word composition reflecting the father's love from the details is like a mountain. It is determined and heavy, but it is always so cold and difficult to approach; Father's love is like the sea, deep and broad, but it always makes people see the turbulent waves and can't see a trace of warmth; Father's love is like a coal mine. It is rich, but it is always buried by cold land.
But the child will understand the father's love one day, because his father's love is special but firm!
My father is a soldier. I have worshipped him very much as long as I can remember. I always thought he was omnipotent! He is so great in my heart! You can rely on him for everything. When the sky falls, I am like a flower in a greenhouse. The only regret is that I work outside all the year round and make up for my family several times a year. I miss him very much, so I usually only convey this feeling by phone.
Even so, I still love him so much Although I really want him to stay with me, I understand him and won't blame him for not being with me! He is a railway worker, struggling in an ordinary job every day. I'm really proud of my father.
My father doesn't often come to see me at school, but he comes and goes once in a while. But every time it makes my heart difficult to calm down, especially his eyes that I will never forget. Last winter, my father was running around as usual. He doesn't do much business, but he has a car to earn some money to support his family. I often hear from my father that he went out to make a living at the age of seventeen and wanted to achieve something. But so far, he has not achieved anything. He always regrets not going to school well. When he said this, he kept sighing and there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. Then he turned to me and said, "Be sure to study hard and don't follow my father's old path." My father is very busy, especially in winter. As a result, wrinkles had already climbed on his father's forehead and looked haggard. I often feel heartache for this. I want my father to relax, but there is nothing I can do, because I am responsible for my father's hopes. Therefore, I study harder. I never dared to expect my father to visit me, and I never thought about it. However, just before the final exam, my father came to see me. This afternoon, before I went to study in the evening, I devoted myself to my homework. Suddenly I heard someone calling me at the door. Inadvertently turned around and found a familiar figure, that is dad! He hasn't found me yet, and his eyes are shuttling through the crowd. I was overjoyed and rushed over, but my father seemed tired. I saw a face with no spirit and no smile on the whole face. I followed him to school. As he walked, he whispered, "Is the exam coming soon?" "Soon." He stopped talking and followed him. I just think his footsteps are unusually heavy-I don't know how many nights he stayed up. Walking towards the car, he clumsily took out what he had brought. I saw bananas, milk, etc. It also said, "My brother likes drinking milk very much. Why not take it back to him? " He seems very happy at this moment. He said, "There is plenty in the car, enough for him to drink." He handed the schoolbag, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "The exam is coming, so review your lessons and don't think about anything else, do you hear?" He stared at me intently, his eyes full of love and longing. I was stunned by this look, and I had a feeling I had never had before. From those gentle eyes, I saw my responsibility. My eyes seemed to be covered with a layer of fog, and I bowed my head tightly. He stroked my messy collar with a rough hand and said, "Go home, I'm leaving." I tried to stop my tears and nodded. On the way back, a male classmate in the same class smiled and said, "Oh, milk?" I can't laugh, but scenes appear in my mind, and before I know it, my eyes are hazy. ...
6. Write a composition of not less than 500 words by my father.
Since I was born, I have been led by a pair of hands to learn to walk. A pair of little hands often hold me in warm arms and make me feel happy and warm; A pair of hands often hold me high to "fly the plane"; Have a pair of hands, always holding my direction, teaching me to be meticulous; A pair of hands pulled me back, obsessed with computer games, and put me on the right track. That's dad's hand.
My father's hand has been with me for 12 years, which has made me grow from a naive child to a good boy with excellent academic performance.
Dad's hands are warm. When I was a child, I always kicked the quilt when I slept. At this time, my father will hug me with warm hands, pat me gently and sing my favorite songs until I fall asleep.
Dad's hands are wide. I want to be a pilot since I was a child, and I can fly in the blue sky with a plane. Whenever my father gets off work, I always clamor for my father to lift me up and fly the plane. My father will hold me high with strong hands and make a gesture of "indiscriminate bombing" in the room. At this point, the mother was on pins and needles, reminding her father to be careful from time to time.
Dad's hand is a source of encouragement for my progress. Once, my teacher recommended me to take part in a children's calligraphy competition. Although I practiced at home for n times, my hands kept shaking when I went on stage. You know, this is the first time for me to show my grace in front of so many people. At this time, I only heard a burst of applause from the audience. Ah, how loud and powerful a pair of applause is, how familiar it sounds! I turned around and searched in the vast sea of people. Ah, it was my father standing under the stage. I was full of confidence at once and wrote a few vigorous and powerful Chinese characters-Father's love is boundless! That time I won the first prize in the children's calligraphy competition.
Behind every success, there is always a pair of hands that give me courage and increase my confidence, and that is my father's loving hands.
7. Who can give me a 500-word composition featuring my father's hands? No more, no less. I have two hands. When I encounter difficulties, I will clench my fist and encourage me to overcome them. There is a pair of hands, when I am sad, the five fingers are one, caressing my young heart. I have two hands. When you have a fever, put your fingers together and gently touch your forehead. Those hands are my dear father's.
Dad's hands are big. His big hand can tightly wrap my little hand. His big hands, 2 1 cm long, 0/0 cm wide and 3 cm thick, are the first pair of big hands I have ever seen.
Dad's hands are thick. Although his hands are not as rough as Zhang Yingshan's, his big hands are like a bumpy piece of wood. His big hands are rough on both sides. I rubbed his hand hard. Look, it's red.
Dad's hands have many colors. There are orange, cyan and pink, but most of them are red. Dad's job is to do experiments, so his hands are often stained with acid, which will turn orange after a long time; His hands are often stained with potassium permanganate, which will turn red after a long time. ...
Dad's hands are hard. His hands are calluses left by experiments, and there are calluses on his joints and fingers.
Dad's hands are hardworking. He cleans the house every day. Since our family moved into a new house, my father has always cleaned the house "quickly and well". This is inseparable from his hands. His hands are sweeping, mopping and plastering. How tired he is!
Ah, I love my father's hands, and I love my father even more.