When I opened the floodgate of memory, I found my favorite poem, written by Du Mu, a poet in the Tang Dynasty.
-"Walking in the Mountains". The whole poem writes, "The stone path of Hanshan Mountain is far away, and there are people in the depths of white clouds. Stop and sit in the maple forest late, and the frost leaves are red in February. "
This poem describes the beautiful scenery that the poet saw when he walked in the mountains in late autumn. The poet cleverly captured several scenery he saw on his way up the mountain: from a distance, a mountain road paved with rocks twists and turns, reaching the top of the mountain. Looking around, where white clouds surround the mountain, several families are faintly exposed, and maple leaves are like fire around them, far more beautiful than flowers in early spring and February. Here, there are white clouds and red leaves with bright colors; Mountain roads, maple forests and people's homes are harmonious and warm; There are also poets who stop to watch because they like the night view of Fenglin, which makes the picture more affectionate and attentive. Writing autumn scenery, the whole poem has no sad and desolate atmosphere. Especially the last sentence, comparing maple leaves with flowers is very novel. The flowers in February are beautiful and charming, but when the spring breeze blows and the spring rain suddenly rises, they fall into the mud and go with the running water. Maple leaves are in the autumn wind, autumn rain and autumn frost.
Walking through the ancient poetry garden, you can enjoy all kinds of ancient poetry. The emotional parting, spring, summer, autumn and winter, romantic scenery and places of interest in ancient poetry are the legacy left by ancient poets to our descendants and the treasures of the Chinese nation.
2. Who can adapt a composition according to the poem and rewrite Tianjingsha Qiu Si with the word 150?
The sky is gloomy after the rain. Crystal clear, no need to wash. The autumn chill after the rain is not empty. On this autumn evening, I couldn't help frowning and wrapping up my warm clothes.
The road is ahead, but where is the end? Where does love go?
Since ignorance has no solution, stop here. In the evening after the rain, let my tired soul rest for a while.
The wind is blowing, and the west wind is blowing. It is really late autumn.
The hair on the forehead stood up and spread out in the wind. It can't stop my eyes or my direction.
Dead leaves fall and dance like butterflies; Flowing on the water, it seems sad and happy. Leaves come from soil and water (all life comes from soil and water), grow longer than branches and love trees. After all, life is like this. Leave water and return to water. It doesn't seem to have changed, but for this time, this time! What's the point of this journey if it's not for the lush branches and the shade under the trees?
The fallen leaves return to their roots, but the tree is old. Will trees return to dust when they are old? In this season, we can't stop pursuing green leaves and yearning for spring.
The vine died, but it could not change his upward ambition. The body is dead, but the soul is immortal.
A gurgling stream, a hunchbacked bridge. With the passage of time and the change of history, even in this country, from one shore to the other, how many parting feelings have you gone through? How many ups and downs have you been through? How many successes and setbacks have you experienced? How much youth and hope have you given up? How many clothes did you bring home?
Crow's crow, crying endlessly. Is it homing or feeding back? Has the meaning of crow's life reached its extreme here?
Twilight blurred, smoke curled up. Someone put on a light, but the light is for people who come home late? Can there be father's misty smoke and mother's nagging in the dim and flickering light? Can you have a wife's desire and a child's childish voice?
The road is ahead, but the warmth ahead does not belong to me. My parents, my wife and children, my deep affection, all stood behind me silently for this wandering. For this journey of life, I put them in the softest and sweetest dream in my heart.
The west wind really started. The ponytail caressed the cheek. I got up, stroking my wandering companion all the way, and looking at the hair that grew up gradually, I felt a little sad: Ma, it's not that I don't feel bad, it's that this road is too far, but my heart is too persistent. ...
One step. The light in front still doesn't belong to me.
When can I arrive at my destination? At that time, did everything go back to the beginning? At that time, can I still have no regrets about this wandering life and be so persistent? Was the tenderness in my heart my last pursuit?
Write a 500-word composition according to the content of the poem.
A spring begins with a trickle. They "don't think about whether they can succeed." Since I chose a distant place, I only care about the hardships "(in Wang Guozhen).
In the process of progress, no matter whether the mountain is in the way, whether the dry riverbed is absorbed or not, whether Wan Ren Mountain falls into a waterfall or not ... what we hear is their whispers, whispers, growls and songs all the way, which is a unremitting and persistent struggle to move forward towards the sea.
On the way forward, it enjoys the beautiful scenery and shows people that it is alive and active. It is the process of their rushing to the sea that makes us feel the rhythm of their lives, the gentleness of life, the unyielding and tragic life, and the free and easy life.
Why not in life?
With the fighting spirit of "only paying attention to hardships", there will be less impatience and sigh in the long journey, less trouble and sadness in the lonely journey, less doubt and fear on the winding road, less frustration and hesitation on the winding road, and less trouble and desolation in the wind, frost, rain and snow. ...
With the spirit of "only paying attention to suffering", people respect those who are brave in fighting more. Madame Curie's tenacity in the struggle to refine radium is admirable; Lang Ping, a famous women's volleyball player, practiced three or nine times in winter and became an "iron hammer" in three days in summer. He waved his long arm a thousand times and finally learned the good technique of powerful spike with one hand, which is equally admirable. ...
Let's cheer for the suffering! I'm tired of typing. Ask me if you don't understand.
4. Choose an ancient poem and write a short essay of 100 words. Look! At first glance, the ground seems to be covered with a piece of green grass! When the wind blows gently, the sound of "rustling sand" spreads everywhere.
Listen! The shepherd boy is playing the flute again, teasing the evening breeze with a cheerful tone and whispering slowly in his ear.
In the morning, when the sun was half exposed, the shepherd boy took a flute and went up the mountain to herd cattle. He sat on the cow's back, playing the flute and humming a tune. He ran happily on the grass, unrestrained and without any troubles. Until he was tired of playing, he lay on the grass and looked at the white clouds and birds in the sky, with a smile floating around his mouth.
After dinner, the sun has set and the bright moon has climbed up. The shepherd boy came to the haystack with a flute in his hand and lay down without taking off the hemp fiber. He listened to unknown insects singing beautiful songs in the grass, looked up at the bright moon in the night sky, and came up with pictures in his mind.
Listen to that cheerful tune blowing again, how beautiful it is! Hey! Why did you stop? Oh ... It turns out that the shepherd boy closed his eyes and fell asleep. Yes! He is really tired, so let him have a good sleep listening to the lullaby of bugs!
5. A short poem 100 words 1. Her eyes, her lips,
And the whirlpool of lips.
As beautiful as dew,
A bright smile.
Hiding in the shining shell teeth.
It was a smile-God's smile, a beautiful smile:
The reflection of water, the light song of the wind.
Laughing at her loose curly hair,
Scattered in her ear.
Soft as a flower shadow,
Itchy sweetness
Into your heart.
It was a smile-a poetic smile, a picturesque smile:
Traces of clouds, soft waves of waves.
2. the stars in the sky,
It is said to be eternal spring flowers.
The shadow of begonia flowers on the east wall,
The star cluster says this is the eternal autumn moon.
Waking up in the morning is a winter night dream.
Last night's midnight star,
Wipe the net bright and beautiful,
Sparse without losing,
The same is true of spring flowers and autumn moons.
Children are not fish.