2. Poetry describing spring (modern poetry about spring)
Spring dream/
I like ...
Put your dreams in spring
It's called spring dream.
I tried to dream about you.
But always in vain.
I like to turn my pillow upside down when I wake up.
I heard that this will make your dream come true.
In this dreamy spring.
What I toss and turn is
South of Guzhen
Second, open the door of spring.
I hear birds chirping.
In the city, there are several spring birds.
They are afraid to go into town.
Just cheering and jumping outside the classroom.
They are as simple as farmers in the countryside.
Let me sprout a sense of closeness.
They are my friends.
Like a relative I met by chance.
They are looking for unknown bugs.
Make a friendly voice to one's companion
After school, I fell in love with birdsong.
In the debate about birds,
I pushed open the door of spring.
Third, this spring
My heart is at sixes and sevens this spring.
Think for a moment about some tombstones.
Think of my childhood for a while.
My heart is at sixes and sevens this spring.
Poetry in spring is written in spring.
My poems are the leaves of grass and crowns in spring.
This spring,
What else can I do?
Who else can I embrace spring and time with?
3. Modern poems describing spring, modern rhyme poems and campus works, please refer to them.
Enjoy the scenery in spring.
March is sunny and a little cold.
When the swallow flies, the wind turns around, but it doesn't indicate the direction.
The kite flies, hiding the desire to bathe in the blue sky before it breaks.
The green water is rippling, trying to restore the natural appearance of the past.
The grass is green and far-fetched.
Early spring is irresistible like a girl, which opens the spring scenery in Jiangnan.
Liu Qingwu, what a handsome leader.
Wan Fang spat, who can match the fragrance of magnolia?
Lonely, Xiaoshi just wants to listen to the sound of running water under the broken bridge.
The vision set sail, and the oriole stood upright. Do you want to sing softly?
Zi Gui's tears of blood shocked the audience.
Speak loudly, friends cherish time, please don't do this.
Boating on the lake, anglers wait for the fish to bite.
The landscape in the painting, the sketch artist tried to collect the beautiful scenery of Jiangnan together.
I'm in a hurry. I'll get used to enjoying it in the pictures after I miss the time.
Pairs of people, the promenade on the dam is lonely and long.
Every spring, the original throbbing heart is no longer crazy.
I hope you are well, think about the beauty under the beautiful scenery, and return again and again.
4. With regard to modern poems describing spring, spring comes to mind.
Author: Yu Guangzhong
In spring, I think of Jiangnan.
Jiangnan in Tang poetry, at the age of nine,
Pick mulberry leaves to catch dragonflies.
(You can go back from Keelung Port)
Jiangnan, Komori's Jiangnan,
Jiangnan is in Su Xiaoxiao,
In spring, I think of Jiangnan.
I think of the lake with many lotus flowers and many ling flowers.
A lake rich in crabs, Jiangnan rich in lakes,
The small battlefield of the king of Wu and the king of Yue.
That war was beautiful enough.
Stone escaped from, disappeared from,
It's missing from the wine flag.
(It takes three hours by plane from Songshan)
Jiangnan of Emperor Qianlong,
In spring, I think of Jiangnan, where weeping willows are everywhere.
I think of the fishing port near Taihu Lake, I think of it.
So many cousins, walking on the ground of Liu,
I can only marry one of them! )
Walking through Liu Di, many cousins,
Let Yi Lao go.
Any old man, in Jiangnan,
(Jiangnan, spray clouds for three hours)
Even if we meet, they won't accompany me,
Accompany me to pick lotus, accompany me to pick ling,
Even if we meet in Jiangnan,
In the south of the apricot blossom spring rain, in the apricot blossom village in the south of the Yangtze River.
Excuse me, where is the restaurant? )
Where is my mother,
Easter, it's my mother who won't be resurrected.
A little girl in Jiangnan became a mother.
Tomb-Sweeping Day, my mother is calling me, calling me at Yuantong Temple.
Call me here on the channel, over there on the channel,
Oh, in Jiangnan, in Jiangnan,
There are many temples and pavilions in the south of the Yangtze River.
There are many kites in Jiangnan.
Jiangnan in the bell.
Standing in Keelung Port, I think-I can't go back if I want to.
Jiangnan with many swallows.
Spring Back to the Earth is a poem by Yu Guangzhong, a famous patriotic poet in Taiwan Province. This poem is Yu Guangzhong's delicate emotional work, which expresses the author's hometown complex and patriotic feelings.
Extended data:
The writing background of Spring reminds me;
Although Yu Guangzhong's ancestral home is Yongchun, Fujian, he was born in Nanjing on 1928. When he was young, he was immersed in the beautiful scenery, customs and long history and culture of Jiangnan water town.
2 1 year-old, the poet left the mainland and moved to Taiwan Province province. Due to the political isolation between the two sides of the Taiwan Strait, he could not return to his hometown until the date of writing this poem. I missed my hometown for a long time, and finally I condensed it into an emotional poem and produced it.
Yu Guangzhong was born in a scholarly family. He grew up with many cousins and married one of them, Fanwo Village. His mother and wife are from Changzhou, so Yu Guangzhong's nostalgia for the motherland is more reflected in his nostalgia for Jiangnan. This song "Spring Reminds me" is really Yu Guangzhong's delicate emotional work.
Hometown complex and patriotic feelings are the soul of spring, cherish the memory.
Baidu encyclopedia-spring reminds me
5. Poetry of Spring (Modern Poetry) "Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night": Good rain knows the season, when spring comes.
Sneak into the night with the wind, moisten things silently. The wild path is dark, and the river is bright.
Look at the red and wet place, the flowers in Jinguancheng are heavy. The poet's noble personality is also the noble personality of all "good people"
The poet looks forward to such "good rain" and loves our "good rain". Therefore, although the word "Xi" in the title does not appear in the poem, the meaning of "Xi" breaks through the cocoon "(Pu Qilong's Reading).
The poet looked forward to the spring rain "moistening things silently", and it began to rain. As soon as he came up, he called "good" with joy. What was written in the second couplet was obviously heard.
The poet listened attentively and heard the rain pouring down underground on a spring night, just to "moisten things quietly". Dont Ask For Help knew he was naturally "happy" and couldn't sleep. Because the rain is "moist and silent", I can't hear clearly. I am afraid that the rain will stop, so I will go out and watch it.
What is written in the third section? I can see it clearly. Seeing the strong rain, I can't help but imagine the beautiful scenery of the city in spring after dawn.
How vivid his infinite joy is! Li Yue, a poet in the middle Tang Dynasty, wrote a poem "Watching the Rain": "Mulberry leaves come from the soil without leaves, and the flute pipe welcomes the Longshui Temple. Seeing Zhumen singing and dancing, I am afraid that the sound of spring will swallow the strings. "
Compared with those who watch songs and dances in Zhumen, isn't Du Fu's joy of "moistening things silently" in the spring rain a noble feeling? (Huo).
6. Give me five poems about spring (2 modern poems and 3 ancient poems). Modern poetry 1. The small forest in the city has turned green, and the humble life of ants and flying insects in my small forest has come together with spring. Under the soil, I heard the sound of earthworms crawling and knocked down the closed door of the soil with their soft heads. On the grass in the grove, I saw a group of goats waving their long beards. Baa, a black goat that shocked my youth and soul, came to me leisurely, with tears of happiness on his face. Pushing open the door of spring, I hear birds chirping in the city. A few primrose birds were afraid to go into town, but they cheered outside the school. They are as simple as farmers in rural areas, which makes me feel close. They are my friends. It seems that they are relatives I met by chance. They are looking for unknown bugs and making friendly sounds to their peers outside school. I fell in love with the sound of birds. In the contention of birds, I pushed open the door of spring. This spring, this spring, my heart is in a mess. Sometimes I think of some tombstones, and sometimes I think of my childhood. This spring, my heart is in a mess. My spring poems were written in spring. My poems are leaves and crowns in spring. What else can I do this spring? Who else can I embrace spring and time with? The rain passed through my chest. A voice dripped from a high place, like a Rapunzel shawl, and a black waterfall held time tightly on me. Therefore, being a dizzy elf in the endless rain curtain can't tell who is the real irresistible desire. Raindrops are flying in the air and slowly floating in the air. The accumulated strength seeped into my broad chest quietly from the simple clouds, so the waves in my chest stirred ripples and beat on the emotional shore reef. Waves of breath and drops of rain nourish each other, and drops of rain go deep into my heart without cover. Mix with my thoughts, then wash everything through the narrow space in my heart, and a ray of sunshine flies into my sunny sky through time. On February 23, 2004, Looking at a Snow in Spring boarded the train bound for spring with the sharp sword of the season, ruthlessly scraped off the restless buds, let the little hand that had been chapped for a winter stretch out, stepped on a snow in spring and held high the banner of hunting and chasing. The dialogue between spring and snow is precious. Snowflakes flow freely in six directions, conveying wet information. In fact, spring has nothing to do with a snow, but a sudden cold in late spring. Grab everyone's love. Looking up, the contact between heaven and earth is intense and pure along the slope of the season. The last snow and trees outside the window are waiting for February 3, 2004. Looking at the horizon, the branches droop and sigh, and the fog drips into the yearning for spring. A bud quietly arching the frozen soil knocks on the door of the earth. Free-roaming sparrows disappear into the cracked trunk of ice and enjoy love. Light kites in the suburbs, sailing all the way to the territory of spring. The road is still muddy. Occasionally, pedestrians turn up their collars to keep the cold out, and the sun shines into the spring gate. On February 5, 2004, I didn't make an appointment with a kite and flew my son to a mountain top in the suburbs. I am so excited that a floating leaf is flying in the distance. There you are. I lay next to my wife and kissed Achnatherum splendens all afternoon. I really want to take out my son's homework in his schoolbag and help him sweep it. The lawn between buildings is covered with wild flowers, and then "Cleisthenes" cries like a shepherd boy. Cattle raise their hooves and spray beads to wake up the ears of spring from the river. Next to it are the seedlings that grow wildly in spring and the dense leaves on the ridge of the field. Imagine, not long ago, in this land, it was this old buffalo who mumbled to promote the progress of the season. An empty philosopher is holding hands and making various gestures, turning the warm colors in the earth through the cold eyes of the season. Cool classical figures lean heavily to the mud waves, and plowshares and old farmers are urged to carry the last feather on their backs. After experiencing abundant vitality, they hid under the wings of late spring dusk, and a feather serenaded safely and gracefully in the wind, gently licking the sails sailing in the sea of four seasons. Under the eaves of love, I once fell out of favor again. I turned my back on my wish. Once romantic passion, in the space of steaming clouds in spring, quietly swam a drop of clear tears. Vilen saw that the dying light was bathed in the tempering of clouds. The fiery journey of the sea and sky riding beautiful feathers can't be crossed, and then I hold high the pious prayer flags and fly away with wordless promises. Who hunted the feathers of spring but couldn't find the emotional branches soaring in the sky? I think in a spring afternoon, there may be many things that will be boring and lonely, watching the distant sky, clouds and crowded downstairs crowded with pedestrians in a hurry. They all look serious and witness the actions of others. On the one hand, the sky is clear with lyrical pigeon feathers and pigeon whistle, and they glide unscrupulously between kites and breezes. A vigorous and powerful shadow can only be moved by choosing irregular strokes and traces of thinking. Pigeons put up their open feathers, reach the distant bridge, wait for a beam of sunshine, preferably the long-lost sunshine, and then hug them heartily. On the weekend of February 2, 2004, the car stomped wearily from noise to target. Vilen was silent. In the spring when rape flowers are embedded, a group of bees come as their hosts. In the depths of the season, I lay smartly in the stamen, watching the wind dance from the gap between the petals, exhaling the depression in my chest, and stopping the comfort and ease on the road outside the window. An apricot came out of the wall playfully along the curtain, and the thick aroma was mixed with brewed alcohol, which shocked a car full of ancient poems describing spring. (Meng Haoran) In the spring morning, I woke up carefree, and birds were singing all around, but now I remember that night, that storm, and I don't know how many flowers were broken by ancient poems about spring. Willow trees were decorated with jasper and 10 thousand green silk tapestries were hung. I don't know who cut the thin leaves, but the spring breeze in February is like scissors. Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night (Du Fu), an ancient poem about spring, knows the rainy season. When spring comes, it sneaks into the night with the wind and moistens everything quietly. Wild trails and clouds are all black, and rivers and boats are all bright. Look at the red and wet place, the flowers on Jinguan City are heavy. describe
7. Modern poems about spring face the sea and spring warms bloom Author: Haizi will be a happy person from tomorrow, feeding horses, chopping wood and traveling around the world. From tomorrow on, I care about food and vegetables. I have a house facing the sea, bloom is warm in spring. Starting from tomorrow, I will write to every relative and tell them my happiness. The lightning of happiness tells me that I will tell everyone to give every river and mountain a warm name, stranger. And I wish you a bright future. I wish you a happy life in the world. I just want to face the sea. Bloom is warm in spring. I have an appointment with Spring. Author: If Jiao Tong hadn't been reminded by Lei, I would have almost forgotten my appointment with Spring. The Covenant I made as a teenager, the rainy season is too long. Is it as forgetful as spring? The nebula accepts the invitation from the distant sky, the kite flies out of the apartment and the cuckoo burns the mountain. Who is calling at the other end of the years? I think of the partridge that reminded me again and again before I left: I want to bid farewell to my boss in the spring, still waiting in the frost and snow, and the city that once wandered with a stack of yellow manuscript paper, some old unread books and a half-life journey of honor, disgrace, sorrow and joy ... Dragonflies went to the road together to meet a rabbit squatting on the grass and listening with their ears. The belated footsteps approached ... The sunlight on the lake warmed by the east wind dyed the birch forest green, and the storks couldn't wait to escape from the rippling reflection of Yunshan. I remembered my date with Spring. When I was a teenager, the beautiful scenery and flowers had just opened halfway, and the vegetation sprouted on the road ahead. All my thoughts are quietly dispersed in spring. A moment, please.