Model essay on ancient poems 1. Model essays on poems and sentences.
In March in the south of the Yangtze River, the breeze blows gently and the drizzle drops on the clothes. A fisherman paddled across a mountain stream and sang loudly: peach blossoms and flowing water are fat for mandarin fish, and oblique wind and drizzle are not needed. As the saying goes, you can't judge a book by its cover. I think the fisherman is not an idle generation, but a person who has read many poems. He grew up from a poor family and loved learning. At the age of five, he recited Liu Jia. At the age of ten, he attended one hundred schools and learned fifteen wonderful books. However, he was born at an untimely time, passed several exams and lost his reputation in Sun Shan, seeing through the hardships of the times and the filth of officialdom. So he retired to the countryside, hoeed the land for wasteland, picked chrysanthemums and hedges, and came to dance with Jiang Feng in his spare time. The moon is drunk, or the white deer is embedded in the mountains and rivers, or he is fishing in the rivers, lakes and seas. There are many fishermen in Wuling, but there is no shortage.
Unconsciously, the sun has set in the west, but the fishermen's interest has not diminished. In a trance, there was a faint fragrance floating head on. Looking intently, it is a lush peach blossom forest with flowers in full bloom and red flowers at the foot. Flowers are flying everywhere, and the clothes are covered with red incense. The fishermen were fascinated by this pure and beautiful place and lingered in it.
Suddenly, an elderly man stood in front of the fisherman and saw his face like a crown jade and a feather fan with a black towel. The fisherman was startled and bowed down and asked, "Where is the sage?" Today's meeting in Taolin is the strange fate of my life. The venerable man smiled and didn't answer, but asked, "I don't really make a living by fishing, but I have something on my mind, so I live in seclusion here, but I don't? "Fisherman dark sigh, today was lucky enough to meet a bosom friend. The words of the venerable master even turned over the depression in my heart, and the past came to my mind. Now, I can get rid of it quickly. I replied: "However, Mr. Wang knows my heart well, and I want to pour out my heart: when I was born at an inopportune time, the world was against me. How can I ruin my eyes and bend my back to serve the powerful? If I go back and forth, I will come back. "Why don't you let your heart stay?" After saying this, I burst into tears.
The venerable master said, "Hey! It's not fair! The tide rises and falls, and life has its ups and downs. Dongpo's official career was bumpy and experienced ups and downs. He lamented that Dajiangdong had gone to find out all the romantic figures of the ages, but he was more proud of being able to bow like a full moon, look northwest and shoot Sirius. What's more, he beat horses with bamboo poles and sandals, and took bitter rain as the spirit of life. He traveled all over China, leaving his mark everywhere. Fan Zhongyan, a famous generation, doesn't like things, doesn't worry about himself, worries about the world first, enjoys the world later, calmly faces the gains and losses of life, and always stays at the highest level in the hearts of Chinese people. When and set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea Li Bai was defeated in Chang 'an politics and frustrated in officialdom. Throughout the romantic life through the ages. The public is a real hermit, not a real wise man! "
The words of the venerable master made Wuling fishermen bow down and bow down. Suddenly, he heard Luming Literature in the air, auspicious clouds and a breeze, and only thunder filled his ears. He told him, "Don't forget my words, remember, remember." The fisherman was shocked. He didn't know whether he was awake or dreaming. From then on, Wuling fisherman no longer exists, and there are more emperors around him.
2. Composition containing ancient poems and verses
North.
winter String moon.
Neon. The first snow began to drift away.
Sitting alone behind the curtain of the snow fog, listening to the sound of snow falling. The falling dead leaves were quickly covered with snow, disappeared like a grain of dust and sank with my memory.
It seems that every winter is spent like this, curling up in my warm cabin, lighting a curling lamp, listening to music, drinking steaming tea, reading my favorite books and watching the wind, frost, rain and snow slide past the window year after year. I would like to live in my castle like this and watch the years pass quietly, like water.
I don't know if the traces of time are hung on my face and engraved in my heart. I know that one day, my eyes are no longer as clear as snowflakes.
After years of heavy snow, will you still remember the woman behind the snow and the heart of the past as snow? Looking up at the pedestrians on the road, everyone is in a hurry.
The solstice of winter has not yet arrived, and the cold at this moment is not biting. I think a person walking on the road, looking at the leaves that will not fall, will make me feel a little sad, feel the warmth of home, and involuntarily speed up my steps. Reminds me of the ancient poem "Chai Men smells dogs barking, and the snow at night returns to people".
Thinking of this, I can't help laughing, not at others, but at myself. Sitting in the room all day thinking, vague, many scenes have never been experienced and will never be realized, but inexplicably familiar and frightened.
As if I had wings in my heart, I flew around for me through time and space. It turns out that imagination can be so real or so absurd.
I suddenly remembered an old song many years ago: put away your emotions, leave your memory blank, forget the past you once had, and never say love again ... I like these naive old songs, and all my troubles were solved in a few words. How many words can be realized in the ethereal promise of that year? I don't know and I can't prove it.
All I know is that it will never bring the slightest excitement or dizziness, just like fireworks in the night sky. Beauty only belongs to her for a moment, the wind blows away, the prosperity is gone, and everything is empty. Moonlight and snow shadow rolled into the window, sprinkled on the table by the window, sprinkled on my forehead, and nourished my soul.
Fingertips danced again, pouring out her loneliness. This is just a game and a dream. Only the rules of this game are impermanent. This dream can see the other side, but can't swim.
This play is wonderful. It should be staged when it should be staged, and it should end when it should be finished. This game is very helpless, from clear to fuzzy, from spring flowers to autumn dew.
Like a wisp of wind, a Jing Xue, ups and downs at will, I don't know where to go, I don't know where to go. "Speak, speak; What's the hurry between going and coming? " Mr. Zhu Ziqing's "Hurry" made me sigh. It turns out that everything is doomed to be in a hurry, and I will never catch up with it.
3. Write a 300-word composition of ancient poetry.
Clothes are full of love.
One morning in the fourteenth year of Tang Tianbao, warm sunshine filled Wang's small building. Li Bai, a great poet, was awakened by the birds singing in front of the window. He put on his gauze hat and red shirt, went downstairs and walked to Taohuatan. The scenic Taohuatan is embedded in the peaks, and the water quality is clear and flat as a mirror. Peach trees grow along the way from Taohuatan to Yuping Mountain in the upper reaches. In the middle of March, peach blossoms are in full bloom and colorful, reflecting the water as red as fire. Under the sunlight of the morning sun, the water splashed each other, like a rosy cloud, like a colorful dance ... When Li Bai saw all this, he couldn't help but feel relaxed and deeply intoxicated by the unique and beautiful scenery of Shan Ye. ...
After breakfast, Wang Lun, the host, specially brought a century-old Peach Blossom Lake wine to Li Bai.
Li Bai took a sip and turned red at once. He stroked his beard and praised again and again: "Good wine, good wine!"
"Looking at the pool view, bathing water and drinking pool wine, this Peach Blossom Lake is three pleasures!" Wang Lun laughed.
"Mr. Gao You? There are miles of peach blossoms here. How about your drink, sir? There are ten thousand restaurants here. Brother, thanks to your imagination, write this letter to me and trick me into coming over. "
"Otherwise, can Ann invite your great poet?"
"Shili Peach Blossom is a peach blossom ferry ten miles away from the village; Wanjia Hotel is actually a hotel run by a family named Wan. Dude, you ... "
"Do you regret it?" Wang Lun raised his face and blinked cunningly.
Li Bai took the glass and gulped it down. "Water is good, wine is good, people are better, you are happy to come, and you are happy to come, haha ..."
After dinner, Li Bai began to surf the Internet. I found an email on the Internet:
Dude:
Huangshan Mountain will be there tomorrow! tofu
"Tofu ... beans ... rot ... Du Fu!" Li Bai read it silently several times. I can't help laughing. Brother Zimei, who has always been known for his rigor, also played a joke today. Don't tell me, only Du Fu can come up with this rhyming phrase!
Li Bai packed his luggage and hurried downstairs. He couldn't bear to say goodbye to Wang Lun face to face and wanted to leave without saying goodbye.
When I arrived at Taohuatan Ferry, it began to rain, and the pool was covered with a little broken microwave oven. The trees on the shore swayed with the wind, as if they were holding out their long arms to retain Li Bai. Standing at the bow of the boat, Li Bai looked around and a faint sadness came to his mind. Will Wang Lun? ...
Suddenly, there was a faint song on the road. Li Bai listened attentively, as if several people were singing in chorus, which was very powerful. The song is high and widowed, completely suppressing the sky, and the song is low and widowed, lingering. "This song should only be in the sky. How many times can the world hear it? " Li Bai sighed. He stood on tiptoe and looked ashore. Approached, isn't that the original Wang Lun? Wearing hoes and linen clothes, followed by a large group of villagers. While singing, they closed the rhythm with their feet and hurried to the ferry. ...
As soon as Li Bai's eyes were hot, he lost his voice and shouted, "Brother Wang Lun ..." He could no longer speak.
The crowd came to the shore and stopped, but their feet were still on the ground and their hands were still beating. ...
"Li Ge, I led the whole village to send them." After a long time, the singing stopped abruptly. Wang Lun faced Li Bai, clenched his fists and held his head high.
Li Bai wiped her tears with her hand. It took him a long time to say, "Brother Wang Lun, would you like to go to Huangshan with me?"
Wang Lun didn't answer. Suddenly, he opened his mouth and sang in a clear voice: "Outside the pavilion, beside the ancient road ..." At this time, all the villagers sang down-to-earth with Wang Lun's music.
Li Bai could no longer restrain his feelings and burst into tears. He adjusted his cloak, turned his head to one side and waved to the boatman. The ship slowly left. ...
"The evening breeze blows the flute, and the sunset is over the mountain ..." The song continued. Li Bai looked at the folks on the shore and the deep peach blossom pool, as if thinking about something. ...
Wang Lun returned home, turned on the computer, and found an email "for Wang Lun" from Li Baifa:
Li Bai was just about to leave when he heard a farewell song from the shore. Even if the Peach Blossom Pond is deep, it is not as deep as Wang Lun's sending away my love.
Wang Lun said to himself after reading it: "Brother Li is really a literary genius and a hero in poetry! How can I compare with him? "
4. Ancient poetry composition
It's not easy to say I love you in ancient poems.
Take a lonely boat and relive the long river of history. What attracts me most is still ...
When you look up, you will think of "a row of egrets in the sky"; Looking down, you will think, "Will there be frost already?" ; When you look at the river, you will think of "a river flowing eastward"; When the leaves wither, you will think, "I say autumn is better than spring."
I like ancient poems. Singing a song "Good Jiangnan", the beautiful artistic conception makes people linger, I like it. Singing a song "Although the tortoise has a long life", "Old and vigorous" randomly appears in my mind, which I like. Hum an untitled, selfless dedication, candle silkworm, I like it.
In my opinion, vernacular Chinese is too monotonous and classical Chinese is too boring. Only ancient poems, I really like them. When you are frustrated and want to back down, think about Du Fu's words, "Reach the top, the other mountains all appear dwarfs under the sky.." Be full of blood and aim high. I appreciate it and admire it. I said I want to learn from Du Fu, and I want to understand this poem thoroughly. I am willing to work hard and strive hard. I also want to see the joy of success after the sweat of hard work!
From poetry, I saw beauty, unparalleled beauty and unique beauty.
I saw the leisure of Tao Yuanming's "picking chrysanthemums under the east fence and seeing Nanshan leisurely"; I have seen Confucius' ambition to "climb Mount Tai and be small in the world"; I saw the sincerity of Li Bai's "Peach Blossom Pond is deeper than thousands of feet, not as good as Wang Lun". I saw the melancholy of Li Qingzhao's sentence that "everything is a person who is not doing anything."
In the dead of night, I appreciate ancient poems, and the bright moonlight sheds beautiful seeds. I wandered in the alley, expressing the originality of "parting, dying and giving up". Oh, lovely ancient poems brought me into a wonderful and pleasant mood.
The trace of sunset and dusk, the trace of withered flowers and leaves, were all taken into my heart by ancient poems. After reading it, it was engraved into my soul. Whispering, "I am a kite with a broken line, and no one knows how to make it dissipate." Turn into a wisp of smoke, the years will run aground, and you will brush your poems. Don't go further and further. With the word o, I am no longer a broken string. The wind is blowing again, and my heart will not leave. "
I learned a lot from ancient poems. I know life can't be peaceful. In this case, I will learn to bear it, join hands with my favorite ancient poems, and compete with the so-called fate! In my world, there is only a solitary sail, and the wind and waves are too big. I have also fallen, and it is ancient poetry that has taught me to be strong. "Asserting that Qingshan does not relax, the roots are broken. A thousand blows are still strong, and the wind is east, west, north and south. " I swear to set off the most beautiful wave in my life!
The future voyage will not be smooth sailing. I have ancient poems. I will sit firmly in my boat and sail for my dream. "The wind knows the power of grass, and it will wither when it is cold." The grass is still strong, so naturally I shouldn't be timid. We should all. Ancient poetry, for you, endless words, endless feelings!
5. Ancient poetry composition
Rewrite Qingming
"sasha vujacic! Shashasha! " It is raining again. Rain, as light as cow hair, as fine as silk thread, and dust as fog, falls from the sky. The rain fell gently on the branches, and the buds on the branches drilled their lovely little heads, opened their beautiful little eyes and looked at everything around them curiously. The rain fell quietly on the grass, and the grass stubbornly pulled open the soil pressed on it, trying to break free. It stretched, yawned and began to greedily suck the dew of spring. A pile of grass here, a pile of grass there, covered the earth with a layer of green clothes. There are colorful flowers in the grass, including yellow rape, red roses, purple bougainvillea and white tulips, which are competing to open and compete for beauty. A few swallows buzzed in the air, as if to say, "Spring is coming! Spring is so beautiful! "
But such a beautiful scenery in the rain can't attract the attention of pedestrians coming and going on the road. They come and go in a hurry, and they are all preoccupied Some pedestrians are carrying brooms and offering sacrifices to sweep graves, thinking of their dead relatives and feeling very sad; Some leave their homes and go out to make a living, with uncertain future and depressed mood; Some people walk on the road of visiting relatives and friends, their future is uncertain, and they are more upset. The gloomy sky overhead made their mood heavier in the light rain.
Among the pedestrians, a scholar-like person is particularly eye-catching. He is Du Mu. He is thin, white-skinned, wearing a hat and carrying a bag. Mutu's gaunt face and frown formed the word "Sichuan". He shook his head and sighed as he walked. He has been on the road for several days, and this kind of "bad weather" is overcast and rainy everywhere, which makes him depressed. At this moment, his stomach growled with hunger and his throat seemed to smoke with thirst. How much he wants to find a place to rest, eat a hot meal, fill his stomach, drink some old wine, quench his thirst, warm himself up, and then have a good sleep. However, this man is a stranger. Where can he find a restaurant?
Suddenly, there was a clear and melodious flute in the distance. That voice is so crisp and sweet. Du Mu's spirit can't help it. He looked up and looked around, only to see a scalper coming head on, with a shepherd boy sitting on his back. He is about eleven or twelve years old, with a red face and bright big eyes. He is somewhat clever, cute and naughty. Mutu believes that there are villages where there are shepherds, and restaurants where there are villages. By the way, shall I ask him? Thinking of this, he stepped forward and asked politely, "Little brother, is there a restaurant here?" When the shepherd boy saw him, he nodded, smiled, grimaced at him and pointed in the direction behind him with a flute, meaning: Go ahead and there will be a restaurant. Mutu understood that he quickly thanked the shepherd boy, cheered up and stepped forward. Sure enough, soon, a village was looming in the rain and fog, where the roads were full of apricot flowers, and several wine lids danced in the wind, as if waving to him ... Mutu was excited and inspired, and a seven-character quatrain blurted out:
It rained a lot during my stay in Tomb-Sweeping Day.
Pedestrians on the road want to die.
Excuse me, where is the restaurant?
The shepherd boy just laughed and didn't answer Xingshan Village.
6. Write a composition about ancient poetry
Write a very simple poem with reference to it. You can refer to those with translations. It's simple.
I recommend a website like this to you. Just write it.
Dragons are surrounded by trees, and when they enter the clouds, they also collapse.
In a piece of green hills and autumn grass, passers-by only worship the Han Mausoleum.
Qin Shihuang unified China, promoted the development of economy and culture, and made great historical contributions. But he was also a tyrant who practiced absolutism and brought great suffering to the people, and was condemned by later generations. This poem by Xu Hun expresses his feelings when he passed the mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor.
The mausoleum of the First Qin Emperor is located near Xiahe Village, about five kilometers east of Lintong County, Shaanxi Province, with Lishan Mountain in the south and Weishui in the north. It was built in 2 10 BC, and the mound was made of earth. After two thousand years of wind and rain erosion, it is 43 meters high and 2000 meters in circumference. At the beginning of the mausoleum, there were "mountains of vegetation" on the tomb. Against the backdrop of mountains and rivers, huge tombs like this mountain are held up on empty flat land, which gives people a feeling of being surrounded by dragons and tigers, as described in the first sentence. The poet stopped at the tomb and turned his eyes from the bottom to the top. He saw layers of green trees soaring into the sky. Isn't the high grave in front of us a symbol of Qin Shihuang's momentum before his death? "The momentum into the clouds is also collapse", and the rapid collapse is in stark contrast to the arrogance of Qin Shihuang when he was in power. In these seven short words, the poet fused and cast an incomparably rich historical content. A word "collapse", like a crack, declared the demise of the Qin dynasty. The demise of the Qin dynasty seems to have been exhausted, and the following is unsustainable. However, the poet suddenly turned to writing: "In a kind of green hills and autumn grass, passers-by only worship the Han Mausoleum", and this poem was suddenly unique and amazing. These two sentences seem to be out of touch with the first two sentences, quietly extracting poems from the word "collapse", and writing the complete collapse of the image of Qin Shihuang in the minds of future generations without trace. It is also green hills and grass, and passers-by only pay homage to the tomb of Emperor Han Xian. The modesty, kindness and frugality of Emperor Wen of Han Dynasty are in sharp contrast with the stubbornness, ferocity and luxury of Qin Shihuang. People will make their own judgments about benevolent kings and tyrants. The word "Wei" in the last sentence clearly points this out. On the surface, the last two sentences seem to spread the pen and ink, from Qin Shihuang to Han Wendi, from the poet himself to "passers-by", but in fact, the looser the form, the tighter the meaning, which shows the heavy power in light pen and ink.
You can write this out.
7. What are the compositions for writing poems?
Autumn is my favorite season.
Autumn is like a painter with full personality, dyeing gingko golden, maple leaf red and grass yellow. At first glance, the world is full of flowing gold and burning red.
Not satisfied, she breathed gently and turned all the leaves into smart butterflies, falling slowly from the tree one by one. Now, all the colors are flying in the air, as if full of vitality.
People were stunned by this poetic scene. They all began to write poems: "The autumn wind blows my heart, heading for Yumenguan forever."
"The empty mountain after the rain stands in the autumn evening." Qiu Xi nodded.
Autumn is like a loving mother, nourishing the earth with her own milk-autumn rain, which makes many creatures give birth to more life: insects lay eggs and take it as new hope. The autumn wind is blowing, urging the brown bear to quickly store food and prepare for hibernation; She helped the geese to line up again and held them in the blue sky with both hands.
Send the bird back to the nest. She takes the squirrel home. At this moment, she stopped and smiled, her face was full of tenderness and kindness.
Qiu is also a generous devotee. She distributed ripe fruits to farmers who had been looking forward to it for half a year. Look, the golden wheat is bent with laughter. Sorghum, who had never seen a stranger, blushed. Apples hide in the bushes and look out. Pomegranate opened its mouth happily, and the grapes shone like agate.
Farmers are too busy to stop, but they are also happy to keep their mouths shut. What a bumper harvest! She took out her most cherished chrysanthemums and showed them in various ways: some hung their heads shyly and wanted to open and close them; Some stretch their petals and dance in the wind, showing her graceful dance; Some are in full bloom, standing upright in the cold wind, as if to become heroes who stand proudly in frost and snow.
Autumn holds up her mirror, the full moon, for people to enjoy, and people take this opportunity to reunite with their families, enjoy the moon, talk to each other, kiss for warmth, and live in harmony. After doing this, Qiu quietly left, leaving joy.