Gratitude for Father's Poetry Modern Poetry

Lead: There is a kind of love, which is silent and serious, and it is often impossible to elaborate at that time. However, it will make you feel more and more delicious in the days to come, and you will never forget it. It's boundless fatherly love. The following is a poem about thanking my father. Welcome to appreciate modern poetry.

Thank you for your father's poems. Modern poems 1 Never looked at your face carefully.

Ruthless years are gone.

Your handsome face

I didn't observe your hair carefully.

Your dark, thick and shiny hair.

I don't know when I added a little white silk.

Never touched your hand with your heart.

Your gentle palm

Quietly covered with calluses

My father.

You use your strong shoulders

Take on the responsibility of the family regardless of difficulties.

And ignore yourself.

Father, father

Do you know how children feel when they see you?

Your thin, sour body

The child's eyes are full of tears.

Thanks for my father's poems. Modern poems 2. Father.

My dear father.

In those wasted years.

You witness the vicissitudes of life with wrinkles.

Bear the burden of shame

Care for children with body and mind.

Forty years of life.

After twists and turns and suffering

You are tolerant of the sea.

Smile at life.

father

My dear father.

On barren land

You measure life with your steps.

On the curved spine

Take responsibility

Forty years.

Too short

You keep silent.

Quietly prolong hope

father

My dear father.

In thirty years of separation,

You used great power.

Help the children cross Qian Shan.

Your unyielding will

And that open-minded attitude towards life

Left an inexhaustible wealth.

Noble father

We will miss you forever.

Gratitude for Father's Poetry Modern Poetry 3 Hazy Time

father

This is a big mountain.

Sit on his shoulder

Can always see far, far away.

Be rational

father

This is a stubborn bent pine tree.

Only then did I find out.

My weight is too heavy, too heavy.

But now

father

You are a profound poem.

My son reads silently.

Tears flow gently

Thanks to my father's poetry, modern poetry 4, father,

Is a towering mountain peak,

Hold me up with his solid and stalwart body.

Father,

This is a long ladder to the sky.

Use his height to help me climb to the top of my dream.

Father,

It's a gurgling river,

Let me fill the blood of his life and thrive.

Father,

This is a green poplar.

Protect me from the wind and rain with his shade.

Gratitude for Father's Poetry Modern Poetry 5 Your Broad Arms

Support the weight of a family.

Your calloused hands

Educated, the hope of a family

Father loves like a mountain-

You support your family with responsibility.

You sow spring seeds and reap autumn harvest with diligence and silence.

A pair of hands, cultivate the years

Raised us.

A person, through the four seasons.

This also makes us mature.

Modern Poetry When I was six or eight years old,

Frost blooms in the cold night of late autumn.

Sunlight relentlessly melts the crystal and whiteness.

The mountain tea trees are all white and full of flowers.

The camellia seeds picked a few days ago dried up.

I will follow you. I will press the house behind you.

You gave me a big bowl of white rice at noon that day.

Tea fried tofu is always in my bowl.

There are still a few pieces of pork that can only be tasted during the Spring Festival.

Give it to me with your chess pieces.

At the age of sixteen

I am very ill. The doctor said it was cancer.

You pick me up in Changsha.

Soon, you fell ill and suffered from mental illness.

Every day, I read: "Ancestor Bodhisattva, Guanyin Bodhisattva, please bless my poor child to recover soon!" "

Still crying

Sixteen years later, I am still alive, and my face has a kind of beauty.

In the past 16 years, you have been working with illness, and Cang Sang is smiling.

Twenty-two years later, after the second operation, I was healthy.

You are happy, kneeling before the spirit of your ancestors.

You have raised 300 Jin of fat pigs this year.

Seven days of ancestor worship.

Two years later in May.

May 25th is your birthday.

You can pick the peppers you grow.

The cucumbers you grow can be eaten.

You have no time to eat.

And left.

The day I sent you up the mountain

Sunlight hides behind clouds and tears.

Suona's sad father

You just left.

Didn't say a word to me

Close your eyes and still smile.

I am now.

I lean on your shadow

There is a mountain behind the child.

Behind you.

Mountains connecting ancestors