Poems praising Women's Day 1 Thunderstorm
This is one of countless spring mornings, a roar of thunder.
Mom! In the red morning light, the bamboo basket for washing vegetables is so ethereal
It seems that the thunderstorm will not come.
There are thunderstorms, because of our beautiful home and singing.
Come to our hearts in advance. Mom, a huge smile is rolling in the sky.
The long-awaited comfort! In the center of the city square
I went over the mountains to listen to your voice flying home gently.
But mom, your wings only grow on me! My flying blood loves the rivers of the motherland.
Respond to the sound of your blood!
It seems to have condensed the flames of rural life for countless centuries.
Burning forever. Mom, the days of rice.
The light in the depths of blood makes the sun bright. I am a bright worker!
At the moment when I landed gently in the yard, there was a thunderstorm!
Began to roll in the sky, the earth, labor, flying, light,
Blend together-ah, transparent storms, exploding gardens,
My gentle little mother, boundless me ...
Poem 2 praising Women's Day is untitled
A river of youth suddenly flows away with a bang.
Mom! I stopped by a blue sky and my bike leaned against the sun.
Underwater blue sky and deep water: boundless clouds
At this time, clouds are wandering around.
The flowers in my life suddenly bloom.
This is a mess of beauty everywhere! I drank the waves and rode away on my bike, the wheels rolling.
I'm far, far away ―― completely gone!
The rest of my body is next to the endless blue wave.
The rest of my poems record life, in full bloom-
What is left to me is green mountains and green waters, living and working.
I can only live in my mother's poems.
Living, melancholy, singing, full of hope.
Waiting for your return!
Poetry 3 "Paper Boat" praises Women's Day
-Send it to mom.
backbone
I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper,
Save it forever.-Save it,
Folding into a very small boat,
Throw it into the sea from the boat.
Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind,
Some are wet by the waves and stick to the bow.
I still fold it every day without losing heart,
I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go.
Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,
Don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason.
This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.
Wanshui Qian Shan, please bring her love and sorrow home.
Poetry 4 "Ah, Mom" praises Women's Day.
Shu Ting
Your pale fingertips touch my temple.
I can't help acting like a child.
Hold on to your skirt
Ah, mom.
In order to keep your fading figure
Although the morning light has cut the dream into smoke.
I still dare not open my eyes for a long time.
I still cherish that bright red scarf.
Afraid that cleaning will make it
Lose your unique warmth
Ah, mom.
Isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless?
I'm afraid the memory will fade, too.
How dare I open its screen easily?
I cried to you for a thorn.
Now I'm wearing a Jing Guan, and I dare not.
I dare not moan.
Ah, mom.
I often look up at your photos sadly.
Even if the call can penetrate the loess
How dare I disturb your sleep?
I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this.
Although I have written many songs.
For flowers, for the sea, for the dawn.
Ah, mom.
My sweet, soft and deep memory.
Not a torrent, not a waterfall.
It's a dry well, and it can't sing under the shade of flowers and trees.
Poetry 5 "Praise Mother" praises Women's Day.
-This document is for all mothers in the world, rich or poor.
Mom, can you use the hands of dead tree skin?
Brush off the frost that has turned gray on your temples? I know
The bow of the red ribbon bleached the black hair in my memory.
Long time no see. Mother, as if nothing had happened.
Or wriggle a loose tooth gently?
It's neither too tight nor too slow. Laugh in tears
Sing some songs that are still fresh in my childhood.
Memory is the snake of missing. Draw a word
Winding forward, my bitter ink in this life.
Mom, are you still willing to use this cracked tongue core?
Lick my arrogant poison. I am in front of you.
Always a child who doesn't grow up.
So there is a vague topic called maternal love.
It is undoubtedly the stupidest injury to a wanderer.
Mom, you are old. You used to be as famous as chrysanthemums.
The edge of the white porcelain bottle has your residual medicine fragrance.
Plain silk was very popular in the old days. manage
Brushed the heart of love, but still
I can't hide your crazy concern.
The autumn wind has started. Even in the shadow of loneliness, mom
Don't catch cold either. No matter when and where
Sunset depends on a crutch called a child.
And you, on fertile soil.
Seeds covered with vegetation are sprouting and growing.
And I, at the moment. I just want to hear your call.
My real name. In a trance, mother
I seem to be back in the yard, next to the well where I drew water as a child.
Poetry 6 praises Women's Day "to the mother before March 8th"
Mom, mom
Thank you for the opportunity to call you again and again like this.
Let me call you softly over and over again.
Mom, mom
Is the rape in my hometown fragrant?
Your hunchbacked figure
Is it still among the little strangers?
Looking for a childhood daughter
Mom, mom
Thank you for giving me life in more than 40 hours of pain and struggle.
Let me wander all the pains, tears and smiles in the world.
Mom, mom
Have the willows in the small village sprouted?
Are you still looking forward to it under the tree
Waiting for a long-lost baby
Mom, mom
Thank you for hugging me in countless poor and cold days.
Let me dream sweet and gentle dreams all my life in your vest and arms.
Mom, mom
Are cats and wild dogs still fighting outside the fence?
Did you feed them white rice again?
Since then, they have a home to rely on.
Mom, mom
The continuous spring rain made her daughter's sad heart more sad.
Have you ever caught a cold, fallen down, or been alone in the light?
Mom, mom
If there is an afterlife, please be my daughter.
Let me love you so that we can live forever.
In the alternation of reincarnation, it becomes a warm dream.
Poetry praising women's day 7 maternal love
We also love our mother. Half brilliant and half brilliant.
But mom doesn't love us. That's where the spring breeze passes.
We like streams.
Mom, dear is the ocean, our happiness.
It's the smile on mom's face.
Dew on Achnatherum splendens illuminates our pain.
Round and bright is the deep sadness in my mother's eyes.
That's light from the sun. We may go far away.
But I can't walk out of my mother's square.
April day
Dry old clothes.
The robe is still there and the collar is still warm.
I can't bear to take it lightly when sewing again, and there are old thread marks of loving mothers on it.
Poems praising Women's Day 8 Wandering Songs
The mountains are unwilling to send away the sunset.
Affectionate sailors are unwilling to sail.
Hope is calling.
The outside world is my paradise,
A free heart is flying.
Mom, do you care about me?
Mother looked at me anxiously.
Mom, do you want my life to be more exciting?
Mother looked at me with relief.
Listen to the train, the flute ...
Holding hands tightly through the window.
Poem 9 "Untitled" praises Women's Day
A river of youth suddenly flowed away.
Mom! I stopped by a blue sky, and my bike leaned against the sun.
Underwater blue sky and deep water: boundless clouds
At this time, there are wandering clouds everywhere
Flowers bloom in my life.
This place is messy and beautiful! I drank the waves and rode away on my bike, the wheels rolling.
I'm far away from you ―― I've completely disappeared!
Leave my body next to an endless blue.
The rest of my poems record the blooming and blooming of life-
I was left to live and work in the mountains and rivers.
I can only live in my mother's poems.
Live melancholy, sing songs and be full of hope.
Poem on Women's Day 10 "Dedicated to Mother"
Sit quietly on a flower and blend in with the book.
She was absorbed in her book and opened countless forgetful black eyes.
How beautiful and quiet! those years
I grew up healthily in the scenery, she read softly, making waves in the air.
Love wave
Smell the homesick sea!
This bending posture makes the sun bend on the ground;
Such snow-white hair makes every winter pure and beautiful.
Old mother! Longer than my reading life! Sitting quietly in the chill of early spring
The waves decorate my years layer by layer.
When I was a student at sea, I wrote a magnificent poem.
Waiting for you to read!
Poetry praises women's day 1 1 "If the world doesn't have you"
If there is no you in this world,
What it would be like,
I can't imagine.
Without you in spring,
Flowers are no longer fragrant,
Birds stop singing;
When you were away in summer,
As if I had lost the sun,
Every day is lonely.
The world will get cold;
When you are away in autumn,
Even if you get everything,
No one to share with me;
Not in winter.
What should I do,
The days that have passed seem so long.
If there is no you in this world,
What will happen to me,
I can't imagine.
When I was young,
Who will feed me and teach me to thrive;
In old age,
Who will accompany me and walk by the river to watch the sunset?
When you're lost,
Who will give me courage and guide me to the sunshine;
When you succeed,
I was reminded not to be too arrogant.
Why doesn't it matter if it has how bright,
I also think the world is sad;
Why even if the scenery here is unique,
It's sad in my eyes, too
Why?
I loudly questioned the world:
the original
The world has changed without you!
If there is no you in this world,
What the world will become,
I can't imagine.
Fortunately, you are still with me.
All this is my ignorant imagination.
Poem on Women's Day 12 "Harbor under the Sky"
From the day you were born.
Your tenderness has flowed for more than a century.
Never for you, never for you.
But in your gentle waves
But I can feel a kind of comfort and encouragement.
From the day you were born.
Of course, your quality has been deposited for thousands of years.
It has not weakened until now.
I can only nod to you.
It's heartfelt respect.
From the day you were born.
You nourish and care for life.
The direction of faith has not changed.
Even in the era of dehumanization
I asked him why.
He said it was a woman's fate.
Since the day I met you.
I decided to stay with you.
I don't want to see you degenerate.
Don't want to see your silence
Since the day I met you.
I am willing to wash away the dust and cheer for you.
I want to arouse your silence with my actions.
Even if it takes a lifetime
That is, use my life
I nodded at her.
She smiled at me.
I pointed to the birds in the sky.
She shook her head at me.
Forward again
She's still like this
She never gives up.
I asked her why.
She said it was a woman's folded hand.
-For great women
A poem praising Women's Day 13 is dedicated to mother.
Sitting quietly on a flower has been integrated with the book.
Because of her concentration, the book opened countless indifferent black eyes.
How beautiful and quiet! those years
I grew up healthily by tasting such scenes. She read softly, rippling in the air.
Love wave
Smell the homesick sea!
This bending posture makes the sun bend to the ground;
Such snow-white hair makes every winter pure and beautiful.
Old mother! Read longer than my life! Sitting quietly in the chill of early spring.
The waves decorate my years layer by layer.
When I went to the seaside as a student, I wrote a magnificent poem.
Waiting for your reading!