Spring in Beijing,
Short and poetic.
It follows the spring breeze,
With the spring rain,
Quietly put the capital Beijing,
Dressed up like no other.
Spring breeze _
Blow the yellow lawn green.
The weeping willows on the shore also took the opportunity to spit out buds.
Swaying branches,
To express
Pay tribute to spring.
Spring rain _
Moisten the dry land,
Everything is bathed in the spring rain,
Scrambling to open the land.
They spread out,
Breathing the breath of spring greedily.
Thawed river
Gurgling water,
I don't know which Haruka it sang, the primrose that participated in the competition for the first time.
With the message of spring,
Spring in Beijing,
Added a bit of charm.
On both sides of the road,
Street garden,
It's blooming everywhere. A bird that has been wronged all winter,
At this time, I am very happy.
They let go of their voices,
Singing one song after another,
Songs in praise of spring.
Ancient buildings with red walls and green tiles,
Magnificent palace buildings,
Spring in Beijing,
Brought a panoramic view of poetry and painting.
Tourists,
From all directions,
Flock to this beautiful modern city.
Take advantage of the holiday,
Climb the Great Wall,
Visit the reclining Buddha Temple in Xiangshan.
Take a look at the historical treasures of the Palace Museum.
Restored the original appearance of Manchu front gate dashilan,
Let Beijingers remember the past.
People took to the streets,
When spring is blooming and the sun is shining,
Enjoy the comfortable spring.
This is a fantasy of nature.
Spring in Beijing,
It is the continuation of vitality.
It gives us too much beauty,
This also gives us a chance to explore again.
Let's redouble our efforts,
Cherish the great opportunity of spring,
Let the spring breeze of reform and opening up,
Set the capital as Beijing,
Always full of youthful vitality.
Modern poetry praising spring
Ice and snow melt,
The pace of spring is near again.
Everyone longs for spring,
Yearning for the apricot rain soaked in clothes,
Looking forward to blowing a cold breeze.
First, the small forest effect in cities.
Green again, my grove.
Ants and flying insects in the Woods
These humble lives come with spring.
Under the soil, I heard the sound of earthworm crawling.
Knock down the mud-sealed door with a soft head
I saw a flock of goats on the grass in the grove.
Waving his long beard and bleating.
Shook my youth and soul.
A black goat came to me leisurely.
Tears of happiness hung on his face.
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?
mother
I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper. I always keep it, keep it, fold it into a boat and throw it into the sea. Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck to the bow. I still don't give up and fold every day. I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go. Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wanshui Qian Shan, please bring her love and sorrow home. Second, about the mother's poem Author: Anonymous article Source: Anonymous mother is like a bright light in the night. When I lose my way, she will guide me, illuminate me and walk towards the light. Mom, mom is like the bright moon on an autumn night. When I am lonely and helpless, she will accompany me, support me and give me full confidence. Mom, she is busy all day for me, tireless, no regrets, so on this annual Mother's Day, I want to say, thank you! I love you! Maternal love (2) Mountain is not as high as maternal love; Sea, not as deep as maternal love; God, love without a mother is vast; Naturally, there is no mother's love and tolerance; Sunshine is not as warm as maternal love; Clouds are not as white as maternal love; Flowers are not as brilliant as maternal love. Mom, we are cold. Who will add clothes for us? Who will cook for us when we are hungry? Who encouraged us when we failed? Happy for us when we succeed? She is not a robot; This is not a computer. She is my mother. Mother is not Santa Maria, Jesus or God, but she is as gentle and kind as Santa Maya, as loving as Jesus and as wise as God. Ah! Mom, that's great! Love may take away your grace and make your hair pale, but it will never take away your kind smile? Mom, on this special day, please let me express my sincere thanks! Happy mother's day. I love my mother. I can't finish what I want to say, and I can't finish what I want to write. Everything is in silence. Angel mother in spring, like an angel in spring, brings warm spring breeze and light rain into children's hearts and understands their needs. This loving angel gave everything to take care of the children's lives and protect their safety. No matter how bad we are, the angel mother still has the ocean-like measure to contain us. Motherly love is like a candy. Motherly love is like a candy, wrapped in nagging and hidden in scolding. Let me look around until I understand. When the eternal mother opens her newborn eyes for the first time, the first thing she sees is her mother's extremely holy and loving eyes and tears of joy-her eyes stare at you unblinkingly, and your hazy and ignorant heart beats instinctively, but you can't express your feelings. Her limbs danced wildly for you-she couldn't help crying loudly. After many days and nights of cultivation, she finally sat up straight. Your little body has never waited after adjusting her emotional intelligence and IQ. Shouted out the most precious first voice in life-mom, this is the most touching original meaning. No matter how many languages are floating in the world, only this sound is absolutely the same. No music, no poem can sing the praises of mother more touching than this one. This document is for all mothers in the world, whether they are poor or rich. Mom, can you brush off the frost that has turned gray on your temples with the hands of dead tree skins? I know that the bow of the red ribbon bleached the black hair that I remember for a long time. Mom, as if nothing had happened, you can still gently twist your loose teeth. Singing songs that are still fresh in my childhood, laughing with tears, memories are snakes of missing. Draw a word and move forward in a zigzag way. My mother, who has residual pain in this life, still licks my arrogant poison with this cracked tongue core. I will never grow up in front of you, so a vague topic called maternal love is undoubtedly a wanderer and the most stupid person who hurts his mother. You used to be as famous as chrysanthemum, and you are old. There are still some fragrant silk on the edge of the white porcelain bottle. I have brushed my love heart in sports, but I still can't hide your concern. The crazy autumn wind has begun. Even in the lonely shadow, mom, don't catch cold. No matter when and where, the sunset depends on a crutch called a child. You, the seeds covered with vegetation on fertile soil are sprouting and growing, and I, at this moment. I just want to hear you call my name. In a trance, mother, I seem to be back in the yard, the mother who drew water from the well when I was a child-Mother's Day is dedicated to all mothers in the world. Your silver hair, rickety body and lonely figure are all old. You associate with the neighboring village, you are 80 years old, and you still draw water yourself. Cooking by yourself, you still cling to my childhood dream hometown. It is the pride of your life to support our four children and four children all your life. The pigeons you let go are the concern of your life. When you talk about being kind to people, the hope of survival is always on your face. How can a mother who has gone through so many hardships write thousands of words with a blunt pen? My mother is a beautiful mother. My mother is a big ship, carrying me to the sea to pursue the mystery of life. The magical mother of the world is a mountain with everything in it, which makes me strong. My physical and mental mother is a touching song, which takes me all over the country and sings the history of the motherland with her beautiful tunes. Mother is the spring breeze that blows everything in the world and brings vitality between steps. Mother is a spring rain, nourishing everything on the earth! Mom, I love you. You are my favorite forever. In my heart, there is a place that is unfathomable, but no one has ever asked. You are the fire of hope, illuminating my future and hope. Every dark night, I care about you. Every cold night, you give me endless warmth. It is raining in the sky, and every drop of rain is telling. Your pale fingertips touch my temple. I can't help holding on to your skirt like when I was a child. My mother tried to keep your disappearing figure. Although the morning light has cut my dream into smoke, I still dare not open my eyes for a long time. I still cherish that bright red scarf, for fear that washing it will make it lose your unique warmth. My mother's years are as ruthless as the running water, fearing that my memory will fade. How dare I open its screen easily? I cried to you for a thorn. Now I wear a watch and dare not moan. Mom, I often look up at your photos sadly. Even if I call for penetrating the loess, how dare I disturb your sleep? I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this. Although I wrote many songs for flowers, the sea and the dawn, my sweet and soft memory, mother, is not a torrent, not a waterfall, but a dry well that flowers and trees can't sing. My mother's life in a storm is like walking on a road with frequent storms, and my mother is at the forefront. Let some umbrellas protect the children from the wind and rain, and my mother pushed them to me. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella, the rain is no longer rain, but a drop of happy tears that God gave to the world. Mom, the hard body can leave. People will never leave, just as we will never forget our ancestors and our mothers. Mother is the quilt on our body, without which we will feel cold. Mother is the salt in vegetables, and life would be dull without her. Mother must have her pain. Those lingering pains often hang on her face and are intertwined with the smile of looking at her children. Great maternal love picked a bunch of the brightest roses and pinned her mother's dearest words on her. Moms call me stupid. Roses are flowers that symbolize love. No, they are also flowers that children want to give to their mothers. Unfortunately, I haven't listened to my mother's childhood jokes for a long time, and I fell asleep before listening. My mother said, silly child, my mother can never finish what she wants to say to her child. Even if she sleeps in the grave, you will always be my concern. Mom, wuyeshu, I am sinking deeper and deeper into the world? Mother, the five-leaf tree of the world is full of poems. I am a child you forced to mature, wearing a light Tsing Yi. I am a handful of dirt, and you love every aspect of it. Tonight, you sit under the eaves of the country, gently wash your fingers and dream of an autumn leaf. Mother Kong, my son, I hope you are by the river thousands of miles away. Don't tell me that tears will prick my river! Tonight, the stars are shining, the serenade is melodious, and the mother's fingers are wrapped in the sanctity of youth. The pentaphyllum is full of poems as heavy as autumn. Her son stood on trembling hair. Don't get excited because of the flute blowing in my mouth ... Your life has touched my dream of walking with you. Autumn after autumn, I beat my horse under the tree.