1. Verses about the first anniversary memorial
Verses about the first anniversary memorial 1. Ancient poems to commemorate the first anniversary of the death of a loved one
The curtains are full of dust and plain It's really a dark and pitiful night. I secretly wiped my tears from my green shirt several times, and suddenly I saw the green leaves next to the rhinoceros dowry. Only hatred turns to boredom, and the flowers are still falling at the fifth watch. Withered poplar leaves are hard to cut off, and cold rain and west wind are blowing across the bridge.
It is spring again on the small street in the south of the city. Only plum blossoms can be seen but no one can be seen. The jade bones have become soil under the spring for a long time, and the ink marks are like dust on the wall.
The setting sun on the city depicts the corners of mourning, and the sinking garden is no longer a restored pool. The spring waves under the sad bridge are green, and it was once the shadow of a startled dragon came.
There are flowers flying everywhere in the Spring City, and the spring breeze keeps the willows from falling. At dusk, candles were passed around the Han Palace, and light smoke dispersed into the house of the five princes.
The love of spring only reaches the point where the pear blossoms are thin and the pieces fall off. What's the matter with the setting sun? It's almost evening, but there are still unawakened souls in the world. The silver paper says goodbye to the dream at that time, and the secret ribbon is the same as the heart. I am a dreamer for Yi Fan, and I often draw pictures to call out the truth at night.
Now I realize that I was wrong at that time, and I feel miserable. Red tears are secretly hanging down, and the eyes are filled with the east wind and everything is wrong. I know you have no plan in the future, so I force you to talk about the happy date. Farewell to this, the pear blossoms have fallen and the moon turns to the west.
Farmers collect love boats, and thousands of hectares of fields are green with spring grass. Try going up to Wumen to get a glimpse of the county, and you will see new smoke in many places during the Qingming Festival.
During the Qingming festival, the peaches and plums smile, but the wild fields and graves only produce sorrow. Thunder shakes the sky and earth, dragons and snakes sting, and rain falls on the grass and trees in the countryside. People beg for sacrifices for their arrogant concubines, and scholars burn themselves to death for unjust marquises. The wise and foolish have known who they are for thousands of years, and their eyes are full of basil and grass.
There have been so many sad things lately, who can talk more about it? Paying for teaching, green windows and red tears, early geese and early orioles. I appreciated it at the time but lost it now, which is a total loss of sentimentality. Sudden arrival of you, painted lantern wind? , Count the spring stars like crazy.
How fine is it for a straight man! Can bridges in danger be exempted from assistance? The maples in the distant mountains are pale, and the wheat in the dilapidated house is lonely beside it. The spring breeze returns to the grass, and there is no new scenery. Pear blossoms are eaten in the cold, and they only worry about the rest during the festival. .
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2. What are the poems about commemorating the first anniversary of the death of my beloved wife
1. "Mourn for Zhengu's horse and hyena in Jiangcun" Gu Yanwu of the Qing Dynasty
Zhengu's horse and hyena are in Jiangcun, sending your six-year-old grandson to Huangquan.
I met my father and grandma underground, but there is still one person left.
2. "A Play to Show My Wife on September 8th" Chen Yuyi, Song Dynasty
The small urn is now familiar, so there is no need to ask the restaurant.
Tomorrow is the Double Ninth Festival, where are the yellow flowers?
3. "Partridge Sky" He Zhu, Song Dynasty
Everything will be wrong if we go through the Changmen again. Why do we come back differently?
After the parasol tree was half dead and the frost cleared, the white-headed mandarin duck flew away without its companion.
The grass on the original ground is showing the first signs of sunshine, and the old habitat is nestled in the new ridge.
Who can stay up late at night to mend clothes when I lie on an empty bed and listen to the rain outside the south window?
4. "Li Si" by Yuan Zhen of the Tang Dynasty
Once upon a time, there was no water in the sea, except for Wushan, it was not a cloud.
Take the flower bush to look back lazily, half destined to practice Taoism and half destined to be a king.
5. "Three Poems to Relieve Sorrow and Feelings" by Yuan Zhen of the Tang Dynasty
In the past, people joked about the afterlife, but now they are all here.
The clothes have been worn and all have been seen, but the needle and thread are still there and cannot be untied.
I still miss my old love and pity my maidservant, and I also gave money to her in my dream.
I sincerely know that everyone has this kind of hatred, and poor and humble couples suffer from everything.
3. Poems mourning the first anniversary of the death of my father
1. In memory of my father/At the beginning of the sunny day, father, you are lying coldly on the cold ground, like a poplar withered branches and clothes My son is so wrapped up that he can't see your face. You are as confused as a child who has lost water. Father, you faced me coldly for the first time. I knelt down but I was further away from you. Your laughter from yesterday is still in my ears. Today, I let go of you. Is it a peaceful appearance? Are you far away from illness? I only have tears that can’t be held back and heartbreaking pain. Father, you lie quietly like a poplar tree and have lost all your strength. But you have covered your children. Shield from the wind and rain and the scorching sun. Although illness has destroyed your body, you are a role model for our children. Let us know how to face everything in the future and cherish life. Father, may you rest in peace as if you were lying in grandma's arms again. 2. My great father - Haizi Author: Left Qin Guangguang sat on my hand, and the fish I caught passed through the water clouds.
Sitting on my hand, the beast-like light flickers with fine sand, and the windowpane of suicide becomes a transparent impulse. The impulse turned into heavy snow, covering the wheat, and the impulse turned into a fire, burning the wheat field.
Sit on my hand, the great lips, burning the plum blossoms on the deer and the weeping into the stars. Just galloping, my galloping eyes are on the evening drum, picking the morning bells, picking the wood flowers, and picking the scars on the tears.
It is indeed tired, and it turns into energetic poetry. It is indeed nothingness, and nothingness becomes the language of God. Sitting on my hand, there are puddles dug out with shadows. Thousands of puddles dug out of one puddle are all shining with the climb of my hometown on the spine.
If you die, your hometown will be gone. If you die, Zuo Qin will become an orphan. I'm sitting on my hands like I'm not sitting on my hands, and I'm talking like I'm not talking.
In this way, I became the swimming light, enchanting the soil. When you die, the soil will drown in the soil. When you die, the sand will become an illusion in the mirror. Hands sit on my body, I understand the birds, and therefore I do not understand the sky, and because I do not understand, the shadows stretch out the body.
You see, my father, you died, but you became a flame, burning me into a heavy snow on the wilderness, burning me into the mesh of a fishing net. My hands were hidden by me, and the light falling on the ground became birds. My father, my Haizi, the birds were touching the nerves of the earth, and the earth was holding the sky and crying.
My hands may be gone when I cry. My father, my Haizi, you are buried in crying, and I have been preparing for grand crying all my life! 3. Three incense sticks to pay homage to my father (Part 1) Author: Sang Hengchang The reflection is your most wonderful curtain call. You have prepared for this moment in your life. After all, there is only a stage of coldness and silence. My hands are overwhelming and hot. Your hands are overwhelming. My two hearts are frozen at the same time. I always want to give you a hundred years of life. I owe you eight years. My son can only burn his guilty body with his blood into a stick of incense in front of you. I’m sorry for my father. 4. Three sticks to pay homage to my father. Fragrance (Part 2) Author: Sang Hengchang "Determine to be private and virtuous, Du Zimei, be a person and follow Zhou Shuren" My father once wrote a motto for me. There was a breath and I couldn't hold myself up. I fell and never got up again. The stars had just salvaged the sun. You finished chewing the last bone of time and turned around to go to the night. The last expression was a smile hanging on the corner of your mouth. Father, what did you see? The three souls are the seven souls. The body is just their shadow. Coming back, saying goodbye, coming back. It was once your favorite poem. 5. Three sticks of incense to pay homage to my father (Part 3). Author: Sang Hengchang Another heavy snow fell on the fourth day of the lunar calendar. Under the moon, on the second day of April, at 4:20 when the cold stars are withering. From ankles to the top of the head, from the top of the head to the bottom of the limbs. I am sixty-eight years old, and my heart is full of a snowman. Mother’s snow is under the fifty-sixth year. On the 28th of May 2018, the sunshine at noon was half covered with wheat and half covered with frost. If reincarnation is endless - pi may be inexhaustible - the infinite cycle, one day we will stand together at the foot of the flying sky. However, I must say now that I am not an orphan. I have a stepmother who is like my mother. I have a wife who is like my mother. I have a daughter who is like my mother.