If I were a snowflake,
What will I become?
Drift into the sea,
Into a drop of water,
Play with all the aquatic life in the sea.
Floating on campus,
Play with the children,
Watching the children play happily,
Then it melted slowly.
I will float to the withered branches,
Tell them something about junior high school composition.
Let them not be in this cold winter,
The discomfort caused by loneliness and cold.
If I were a snowflake, if I were a little snowflake, what would I become? Drift into the sea, become a drop of water, and play with all aquatic creatures in the sea.
Float to the campus, play with the children, watch the children play happily, and then slowly melt.
I will float to the withered branches and tell them junior high school compositions so that they don't feel lonely and cold in this cold winter.
...
How to write poems for primary school students? Spread out the following two poems, both of which are my original poems, hoping to use my grave to pay homage to the soul of a leukemia child. I came to a small grave, and the drizzle wet my grave. The grass climbed up my photo and dyed the distant peaks green. I said, "Mom, I'm really tired. I'll sleep for a while." But once I close my eyes, I don't need my mother to call me a lazy egg in my dreams, and my father calls me a slug. British dances are all launched into space, but mom, you know, it's not good here. There is a hole in my wallboard, but my father won't teach me to catch insects anymore. My hands and feet are cold in winter. I think of that day, and I feel colder than ever. My mother said, "one cold and one hot will catch a cold, but why did you send me into such a hot stove?" Is my heart still cold with a warm fire? Has my blood really turned white? But I clearly draw the green sky in spring. I hope it is my rebirth. Where am I from? " To my nephew "Dad, I" "There is a fairy tree in the sky. Dad and the baby pick under it. " "Mom, where am I from?" "The stars and the moon on the bridge, the white baby fell into the mother's arms." I'm really curious to blame my parents. I'm so lucky to find a good boy after I got off the bridge from heaven. ...
Poems written by primary school students are all poems praising the motherland: autumn wind in the study! Blow! Blow! I want to praise the flowers of my motherland. I want to praise my flowery motherland! Please blow my words into a bunch of flowers, golden yellow, jade white, spring green, autumn purple, ... and then blow them all away, blow them all away, fill the sky and spread all over the earth! Poem 2 praising the motherland: "motherland, my dear motherland" I/am your brand-new ideal, just out of the spider web of myth; I/am the germ of your snow quilt/ancient lotus; I/am the whirlpool of your tears/laughter; I am a new/snow-white starting line; Yes/crimson dawn is blowing; -the motherland! I/am one billionth of you, the sum of your 9.6 million square meters; You/with scarred * * * feed me confused, thoughtful, boiling; Then/get your richness, your glory and your freedom from my flesh and blood; -Motherland, dear/Motherland! ...
The following two modern poems of primary school students are my original poems. I hope I can use my grave to pay homage to the soul of a leukemia child. I came to a small grave. The drizzle wet my grave. The grass climbed up my photo and dyed the distant peaks green. I said, "Mom, I'm really tired. I'll sleep for a while. " But as soon as I close my eyes, I no longer need my mother to call me a lazy egg in my dream, and my father to call me a slug. British dances are all launched into space. But mom, you know, it's not good here. There is a hole in my wallboard, but my father won't teach me to catch insects anymore. My hands and feet are cold in winter. I think of that day, and I feel colder than ever. My mother said, "one cold and one hot will catch a cold, but why did you send me into such a hot stove?" Is my heart still cold with a warm fire? Has my blood really turned white? But I clearly draw the green sky in spring. I hope it is my rebirth. Where am I from? " To my nephew "Dad, I" "There is a fairy tree in the sky. Dad and the baby pick under it. " "Mom, where am I from?" I'm really surprised that mom and dad fell off the bridge from the sky. How lucky they are to find a good boy to let the wind pass by me. There is a river like a cable under the bridge.
From the beginning, I was also strong and alive. Several Baiyang rivers cross the whole mountain city, and the wind also passes through here.
I stopped on the railing and looked at the thin river, letting the wind pass by me.
Comb the whole body and gently pass through all of me.
Indulge in the long world.
The clock and bowl for my meal have arrived; Pull up my feet and walk in the wind, tear a piece into my breath and leave a trace for the poplar.
I take my feet off and put my heart here. My tears are heavy. My language is very heavy. My language is beyond description.
It can't be said that everything has been included; Just like only one word in tens of thousands of words was hit; Just like bean sprouts grow taller; Just like the beard in spring is waking up and jointing.
But I know that she broke an old stone, and the sunshine in this old house is as happy and warm as a newborn baby.
If everything goes back to its original state, your unshaven heroism and lion-like domineering wind and sand will polish your silverware, and your sword-holding hand will look for enemies in language. I saw you standing on a high place.
Although you are as humble as a dust in my lacrimal gland, it will grow into the moment when everything on the earth recovers in spring. The first time you saw me, I blessed you with a smile and lips!
Poetry recitation in the third grade of primary school began. All primary school students welcome New Year's Day poems: the earth welcomes the new year, small trees, and one more annual ring. The earth moves around the sun. Qi: The new year has opened the door to us.
Excuse me, Xiao Shu, are your roots deep? When spring breeze blows the earth, can you give more nutrients to the branches and leaves? The little tree said, my roots have been deeply rooted in the soil. I will deliver more and better nutrients to trunks, branches and leaves.
Excuse me, earth, how to welcome the Spring Festival? Will primroses bloom fresher? Will the little bee work harder? B: The earth says, I want to give colorful flowers and harvest songs.
Believe it, primroses will be more colorful, and small bees will bring people sweet honey.
Oh, I also want to ask you, lovely red scarves, how do you want to make great strides when you step into the threshold of the new year? C: The past year was so exciting. The teacher wrote new "excellent" and full marks in my grade book.
In the new year, I will learn my skills creatively.
Just like a soldier occupying a bunker, I will March triumphantly to Culture Mountain.
D: In the past year, the wind of civilization spread all over towns and villages. The beautiful appearance of "Red Scarf Hygiene Street" is the crystallization of our labor.
In the new year, we should be students of spiritual civilization.
Let the motherland praise her children happily; Everyone has a beautiful heart.
E: In the past year, the activities of the Young Pioneers were rich and novel. The little red flowers in China Garden are red and bright, how gratifying.
In the new year, we will never live up to the red scarf on our chest; To add new luster to it, it is not with words, but with actions.
A: In the past year, our relationship with the playground has become deeper and deeper.
Playing ball and running has grown an inch, and tug-of-war and throwing have increased strength.
In the new year, we must pass the standard of physical exercise; Be like a young eagle flying in the vast blue sky, exercise your steel and iron tendons.
B: In the past year, we moved closer to the Communist Youth League, because we are ten years old-the age of joining the League is getting closer and closer.
In the new year, we cherish the red scarf on our chest more.
When we took off the red scarf because of the end, there was a glittering group emblem on our chest.
L: ah! Good answer, the motherland has heard your voices.
The motherland said: Look farther, the new master of China in the 2 1 century! A: Yes! In the golden sunshine, we will March to 20 15.
We should realize the four modernizations and make the socialist building soar into the sky.
C: We strive to create today, only for tomorrow's dedication; D: If you can learn skills well today, you can make contributions tomorrow.
Collar: with the painstaking efforts of labor, Qi: watering one dusk after another; With the prediction of victory, Qi: Call the morning to wake up.
L: Mom and Dad said with a smile. Good boy! The teacher nodded happily and said, Bing Ding: Good student! The old man said confidently: Qi: Good successor! L: ah! When the earth welcomes another new year, when the young trees add another annual ring, Qi: the red scarf flies into the door of the new year like a vigorous eagle! (The above text comes from the Internet. The author is unknown and is for reference only.)
Firecrackers woke me up with the new morning star that lasted for thousands of years. Every cold and busy winter is dotted with the new year, wintersweet ushers in the winter, and the New Year's bell is floating in the street. People in China have different dreams about spring, and lanterns are hung all over the streets. Small dumplings are very fragrant. * * * Wandering home, the Oriental Moon is full of laughter, and the Lantern Festival is blooming. The criss-crossing lines on the soles of lions' feet are the unique "home" maps of children in China. Touching every gorgeous face with light footsteps, fireworks lit up the whole China. 1300 million China people rushed to the threshold of concentrating on Spring Festival travel rush, which condensed the hope of reunion for many people. Crispy and sweet rice cakes collect many colorful nights of expectation. Because there is no quiet night on the Spring Festival night, it is far-reaching and restless. Because the Chinese Spring Festival is always warm, it is very lively and warm.
How can I make you meet me at my most beautiful moment? I have been studying Buddhism in front of the Buddha for 500 years, so let's become a dust Buddha. So I became a tree, growing in the sunshine of your only way, and all the flowers were my hope in my previous life. When you approach, please listen carefully to the trembling leaves, which is my passion for waiting. When you finally ignore the friend who falls behind you, it's not a petal, it's my dying homesickness (the song of Xi Murong's hometown is the flute of Qingyuan, which always rings in the moonlight night, but his hometown face is vague disappointment, like waves in the fog. After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings. If you love someone, please be gentle with her, no matter how long or short you have been in love. If you can always be gentle with each other, then all the moments, if you have to part, are flawless and beautiful. Say goodbye quietly and thank you in your heart for giving you a memory. When you grow up, you will know that youth without resentment has no regrets at the moment when you suddenly look back, such as Farewell to Cambridge (Xu Zhimo) in Silent Night on the Peak. I left quietly, just as I came gently; I waved my hand gently and bid farewell to the clouds in the western sky.
The golden willow by the river is the bride in the sunset; Beautiful shadows in the waves ripple in my heart.
Green grass on the soft mud, oily, swaying at the bottom of the water; In the gentle waves of Cambridge, I would like to be a water plant! That pool under the shade of elm is not a clear spring, but a rainbow in the sky, broken in floating algae, precipitating a rainbow-like dream? Holding a long Artemisia, wandering back to a greener place, loading a boat with glory and singing in the glory.
But I can't play the piano, just a farewell flute; Summer insects are also silent for me, silence is Cambridge tonight! I left quietly, just as I came quietly; I waved my sleeve and didn't take away a cloud. ...
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