1. Write an essay with the title "Back View", which is required to imitate the structure and form of the second grade text and strive to be true
1 I am very afraid of looking at the back because it is always so silent Silently. Following the back, you can see everything except the back figure you are concerned about and where your eyes are falling. Then you will look away unscrupulously until the back suddenly turns around, and the expression immediately calms down, but in fact it is panicked; afraid of a picture A very unfamiliar face suddenly appeared in front of us.
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The back figure I saw most when I was a child seemed to be my father. My father would always walk in front of us on many occasions. . Or any occasion. Of course, if he was walking behind me, he would not be in my field of vision, and there would be no impression. However, in middle school texts and other readings, my father’s back appeared repeatedly. A gentle shadow, generous and powerful. . Tolerant.
When I grow up, I often don’t bring an umbrella with me when I study. I don’t like to bring one. In fact, in the mountainous climate of my hometown, it rains often. Once it rains, it won’t happen in a few minutes like in Xiamen. It would stop, but continue. I think the reason why I didn’t carry an umbrella at that time was that the umbrellas at home were very heavy and very long. I was very short at that time. When I was in fifth grade, I brought a long umbrella with me in the teaching building. I couldn't open my front. I was helped to open it by a tall female classmate, who also laughed at me. Fifteen years later, I met this girl again in the small street of my hometown. She had become a married woman and her appearance had changed, but she still remembered it. The way she held the umbrella open was so graceful, even though I am much taller than her now. I don’t remember whether I decided not to carry an umbrella at that time.
My father will be raining when it rains. I am still very afraid of him. The more I am afraid, the more I hope it is not him who will send me an umbrella, but this is impossible. My mother is always busier than my father, and our home is between my mother’s school and mine, so my mother cannot He took a long way to see me off, especially when I insisted on not taking it with me when I went out. My father would say, I have already said it before, carry an umbrella when the weather is sunny, and bring food when you are hungry. Then he handed the umbrella to me. I took it silently, and then Walking behind in small steps.
I think I walked behind on purpose. My father found out. As long as he slows down, I will go even slower. This way I can go completely behind. Look at his back.
Sometimes, you will see the rain coming diagonally. My father’s umbrella was not held upright, so his clothes were wetted little by little. Another time, my father held up his umbrella on the road. I lent it to a mother and son. I told them that my father and I could hold an umbrella. I watched them walk away. My father didn't look back at all and walked ahead in the rain. I called Dad. The rain might be very loud. Dad Didn't hear. 2. An essay praising my parents that imitates the structure of "Back View"
Father's love is like fire, he illuminates the way for me; Father's love is like fire, he shows me the way; Father's love is like fire Fire, he brings me warmth; father's love is like fire, he burns the years for me.
Father's love is like fire. On a snowy morning, my father took me to English class on a bicycle. The snow on the ground was very cold. Although I wore several layers of clothes, I still felt the biting cold wind.
Dad was also shivering from the cold, but he still insisted on sending me to school. As soon as I got off the car, my father said: "Son, come to school quickly, don't freeze, it will be uncomfortable if you catch a cold!" I walked into the school quickly.
After class, I strode out of the school gate and saw a tall man standing at the door. He was so cold that he rubbed his hands together. Isn’t that my dad? His hands were red from the cold, his face was red and his ears were red, and his lips were blue from the cold. As soon as my father saw me coming, he immediately put his clothes on me, and he only had a sweater on him.
Seeing my father like this, I said: "Dad, I'm ***." But my father gave me the coat and said with a smile on his face: "I'm not cold!" But my father was obviously frozen. I was shivering all the time, but I couldn't hold back and said I wasn't cold.
I wanted to return the clothes to my father, but my father said seriously: "Be obedient and put it on! You must not catch a cold. How can you go to school if you catch a cold!" It was like a commander ordering a soldier. , I had no choice but to obey. Halfway through the road, my father shivered from time to time. When we reached the bumpy road, my father told me to hold on tight. In the moment of contact, I realized that my father might be sick. I asked: "Dad, are you sick?" "It's okay! Your dad is in good health! He won't be sick."
But I still feel that my dad is riding a lot slower. As soon as I entered the house, my father was lying on the floor. I hurriedly called my mother. As soon as my mother came back, she took my father's temperature, which was 41°C! My mother immediately took my father to the hospital. After the injection, my father felt a little better. He said to me: "Xiao Xiao, your father is not feeling well. You must take good care of yourself and go to school until your father recovers." , I will go pick you up!" These words rushed into my heart like a warm current, and tears rolled in my eyes.
Father, your efforts for me are as much as the drops of water in the sea. Father's love is like fire. That fire is always burning in your heart. That fire is the source of your life. That fire is the source of your confidence.
That fire will not be extinguished no matter how cold the winter is. Father's love is like fire! Father's love is like a song. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding, the music played by my father resounded in the mountains.
Father’s love is like a song. Throughout my life journey, my father has showered me with notes of love.
When I was very young, my father would often run around carrying a "tool box" made of wood, and I would often follow him. My father has a nickname called stonemason. When people call him stonemason, he often has an indescribable smile on his face.
You can also contribute. My father is very hard-working. Every day, together with the uncles and uncles in the team, he goes to the mountain to break stones before dawn, and eats the pickles and porridge he brought for lunch. He has to work until dawn. Hei just came back. The first thing I did after I got home was to do my homework, and then I dragged my tired body to chop pig grass.
While I was doing my homework, I listened to the chopping sound of my father chopping pigweed. I don't know why my father never lets me do these chores.
My father is strict with me. Every time I saw my companions playing hopscotch or fighting in the yard, I was filled with envy, so I secretly walked out to play. Sometimes when my father saw me, I would have a good fight.
My father is illiterate, but every night when I do my homework, he always stays with me after finishing the housework. I saw him wash his face several times and advised him to go to bed.
But he always insisted on sleeping with me after I finished. He said that even if he didn’t understand, he could still embolden me. I found that my father had to look through my homework every day. If there were too many red ticks, he would be very happy. If there were too many red crosses, he would just say: "Why are there so many mistakes?" He looked at me with my head lowered. No more words to say.
My father spent the entire elementary school with me like this. There is a rule in our mountains: in the profession of stone-breaking, the length of service must not exceed 20 years. If you exceed 20 years, you will suffer from various diseases.
The people who learned to break stones with their father gradually retreated to the second line, and some looked for other ways; only my father and a group of young people traveled back and forth on the small path into the mountains every day. Among my peers, I was the only one who entered the district middle school 30 miles away with my father’s support.
My father said that it is worth risking your life to study for me. Later, my father injured his foot in an accident. Since then, his right foot has been lame. However, in order to support my education, my father still walked back and forth on the path leading to the mountains.
My father had no more words or confessions for me, but he used his actual actions to compose a song of fatherly love for me. Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding, the song played by my father rang out in the mountains again.
Father's love is like a mountain. Some people say that father's love is like the sea, deep and broad; some say that father's love is like fire, burning hot; but I say, father's love is like a mountain! When I encounter difficulties, he gives me strength; when I am confused, he gives me direction; when I feel lost, he gives me confidence; when I succeed, he gives me congratulations and warning. Father's love is the majestic mountain that supports my life! Some time ago, the school was running for the position of captain of the Young Pioneers, and I was also one of the candidates. First of all, I felt extremely honored in my heart.
I have paid a lot for this. However, I still couldn't be elected captain in the end. This result made me feel very disappointed, but I will encourage myself to keep working hard and stand out.
When I got home, my father said to me sincerely: "Don't be discouraged, our Yingying is also great! In fact, the road of life is like this, you will encounter many ups and downs, but this requires you to be brave. Face it with your heart. In society, competition is so cruel, but success favors those who are prepared. I believe that I can do it!” After listening to my father’s encouragement, my previous confidence was restored, and I understood that life There is always success or failure. When you don't care about success or failure, but think about the tests you have experienced and the efforts you have made, then you will be even better! How many people at home and abroad praise father's love in ancient and modern times. Whenever I read such poems, I feel extremely warm. The moment of joy and touching mood, every word, touches my heart and makes me think of my dear. Father.
Father’s love is like a mountain. 3. Write a composition imitating "Back View"
It was late autumn, the dew was cold, the wind was cold, the cicadas were chilling, the north wind was shaking the old trees unscrupulously, screaming strangely on the bare treetops, and the ground was withered and yellow. The fallen leaves were picked up by the wind, swirling in the air, and were picked up again as soon as they fell...
People's faces were filled with chills.
My mother and I were walking on the quiet street. It was very cold, and even though I was wearing a thick sweater, the north wind still penetrated through the small holes in the sweater and hit my heart. Looking at a fallen leaf blown by the wind, I couldn't help but think: Another difficult winter!
At this time, a thin back figure appeared in the distance, sitting alone on the ground.
With the cold wind, we walked forward quickly, and the figure from behind gradually became clear...
That was a beggar. She was probably in her 30s, but her brows and face were covered with the vicissitudes of time. She was wearing only thin clothes and was shivering slightly in the cold wind.
Another gust of wind blew by, and she hugged the baby in her arms tighter. That was probably her son, wrapped in two quilts and nestled in his mother's arms.
Perhaps it was the mother who was clinging to him. She leaned against the child tightly and hugged her tightly. She wished she could give half of her body temperature to the child, but she forgot that she was still sitting on the cold and bone-chilling ground. Shivering...
At this time, another gust of north wind whizzed past us with fallen leaves. The color of the grass changed when it hit the Buddha, and the leaves fell off the trees when it hit it. It was extremely sad and fierce.
She shuddered. However, she wrapped the child tightly in the quilt, and then, without any hesitation, took off one of her coats and gently covered the child.
Her body was shaking like a late autumn leaf, but her eyes were filled with warmth that could drive away the cold. She looked at the sleeping face of her child, a warm smile appeared on her face, and her eyes were filled with infinite joy. Her love and infinite warmth flow...
She hugged the child tightly, stood up from the ground, and walked away step by step... But the child in her arms was still sleeping, as if she was completely unaware of the dilemma he was facing. Or he also understands that he will never be cold, because no matter how strong the wind is, his mother can protect him and leave him only warmth.
The cold wind was blowing, and suddenly a piece of clothing was put on my body, and a wave of warmth spread throughout my body. Looking back, I only saw the warmth on my mother's face... 4. Write an essay on the back view
My friend, have you ever been moved by the back view? Have you ever thought that it’s not just the unforgettable faces that leave a deep impression in your life? When a familiar or unfamiliar figure disappears in the crowd, do you feel attached to it or miss it? What does that expressionless figure who turned his head tell you?
Xiaohe Composition Network
When the vision is blurred, I only see an outline; when the thoughts are blurred, I only remember a back figure. There is a back view that will never be erased in my memory. It is the moment when my mother turned around and went out to close the door. She was going to work the night shift. She got up in the middle of the night and looked at her son who was sleeping soundly. He was so sweet. She was very pleased. She stepped over to him gently, tucked the corner of the quilt, pressed the quilt, and took a few glances at her son while he was sleeping. After feeling satisfied with his posture, he walked out gently backwards and gently closed the door without making any sound. The son saw everything in his eyes. In order for his mother to go to work with peace of mind and no longer worry about him, he slept "correctly" without any mess at all. Looking out from his delicate eyelids, he could see the faint night light reflected from the window. , what I saw was my mother’s vague shadow. He turned around and disappeared, and finally heard the sound of the door closing below. The son knew that it was his mother going to work the night shift.
"Who do you think of when you are lonely?..." If this song was sung more than 20 years ago, I would say that what I want to think of most is my mother's shadow. Following the wall made of stones, I walked silently along the base of the wall. There was no mother, but she was here in the past. As long as she is free, she can always be found here, and at most she will not go out of the vicinity. The sound of grass and soil comes from the gravel wall. I don’t know why the smell that is called fresh fragrance now didn’t feel like a kind of enjoyment at that time. Instead, it just added a bit of loneliness and melancholy. All kinds of smells poked out from the wall. The shadows of flowers, plants and trees are missing except for my mother’s smile. Kindness is not here; happiness is not found. What I most want to see is that my mother’s back suddenly appears in front of me. What I want most is that my mother will come over and shout, “How did you find this place?” It’s best if you can also get praise from your mother. Even if there is no praise, I am still happy, because my mother never criticizes me. Even if she is angry, she is always warm. I like to hear my mother's voice and feel my mother's love. But there is no trace of her back. Standing at this end of the road, looking at the long end, there are stone walls, narrow passages, and bumpy stone roads. I don’t know when my mother will show up. I am praying in my eyes and praying in my heart. Helpless loneliness.
After going through a journey, I realized that what I gave my children was also a back view. He walked in front and I followed behind, but he couldn't find me. He only saw my back, a seemingly indifferent back.
When he grows up, he will know that there is a great word of love hidden in this back. 5. Write an essay based on the back view
Zhu Ziqing felt happy because of his father's back, and Zou Taofen was moved by his mother's cry...
Family love is the wealth of our lives. And I also have the wealth that keeps me from being poor in my life - father's love!
My father is a man of few words. From childhood to adulthood, we had very little verbal communication. When I was a child, the most intimate communication between me and my father was to compare my father's big hands with my small hands. Putting my little hands into his huge hands, I imagined when my hands would grow so big. In my impression, my father’s hands were generous and soft. Gradually, as I grew up, my classes became more and more intense, and my communication with my father became more and more absent. Often when I went out to school, my father had already left for work. When I came home from school, I would dive into the pile of books. For a long time, I didn't notice what my father was doing. My mother took very good care of my daily life, but even when I fell ill occasionally, my father would always say nothing and just watch silently.
This made me complain, why doesn't my father care about me at all? Until the winter of that year... The weather was not good that day, and it started to snow lightly outside. I overslept because I studied until late the night before. When I got up, I walked towards the desk in a panic, only to find that my schoolbag had been packed neatly. Mom said, your dad packed it for you. Only then did I suddenly realize that my father, who should have left for work long ago, was sitting quietly on the sofa, neatly dressed. My mother told me, "Your dad doesn't want you to walk alone. It's snowy and the roads are slippery. He's also afraid that you'll catch a cold, so he has to drive you there." I said "Oh" and followed my father downstairs. The car drove to an intersection and there was another traffic jam! Inadvertently, I touched my father's hand holding the handbrake. I couldn't help but froze. This hand was stiff and cracked, like a dead branch. Is this my father's hand? I looked down in confusion, and saw that this hand was dry, black and yellow, shriveled, and had no luster at all. Why? My father's hands are so generous and soft, how could they become like this? Over the years, I just focused on my studies and never paid attention to my father's changes. I even complained that my father didn't care about me. At this moment, I suddenly understood that my father had been silently contributing to our family and making my life more secure, and he had been protecting me with his actions. My heart was sour and my eyes were moist. My father's hands have become so ugly little by little in his weathered years, but in my heart, they are the most generous and warmest hands in the world! It's still freezing outside the car window, with snowflakes flying, but my heart feels warm. Isn't this the best proof of my father's love for me? This kind of love is silent and quiet, but it comes so violently that it surrounds me tightly. My father used his aging life to transform into the endless mountains and ridges, bringing me the eternity of love. Father, your love is the wealth of my life! 6. I have to write a 300-word essay on the imitation of a back figure by myself
Among the vast crowd, only his back figure impressed me deeply. Under the rays of the setting sun, it radiated light, so dazzling and brilliant. He He is an ordinary person, living an ordinary life. He has a family of four. He has an elderly mother, a disabled wife and a regular child in kindergarten. He is the only supporter of the family, and all hopes are pinned on him. After all, he is a man. In order to support the family, he started collecting rags. As usual, people went to work one after another early in the morning, and the community was quiet. There were no children playing. There was no chirping of birds, and when I was enjoying the quiet time, a harsh sound came into my ears, "It's time to collect rags, who has rags?" It woke me up from my dream. . I got up while complaining, and my mood was gray and terrible. Not long after, there was a fierce quarrel downstairs. My curiosity prompted me to go down and take a look at the excitement. I squeezed in the crowd and saw The rag collector was arguing with a family. I looked at the rag collector carefully. He was in his early 40s. His hair seemed to have not been washed for a long time. It looked like a chicken coop. There were several scars on his face. He should have been injured. You should have learned a lesson. The thick lips were wrapped in a thick beard, which looked quite scary. The clothes were also in tatters, with patches everywhere. I didn’t dare to look down, and I thought to myself: This person is really incompetent. From their quarrel, I learned that it turned out that the family thought he had stolen something, and he refused to admit it. However, he was still weak and finally gave the family his hard-earned money. After a while, he walked out of the crowd with his head lowered and rode away on his broken tricycle. I looked at his leaving figure and kept cursing him. How old is the governor and he still imitates others and becomes a thief? The punishment is also It should be. A few days later, the rag collector came again. I thought to myself: You are just a rat crossing the street. How can you have the guts to come here when everyone is shouting? However, this time I made a big mistake. What a mistake. Not only did he find the lost things of that family and clarify his innocence, he also repaired the broken machine for that family. He got his own money back and left with his tricycle. Look. I looked at his back in silence. His radiant back gradually left, and my face turned redder under the sunset. 7. Write a composition by imitating the back view
I have read "The Back View" by Zhu Ziqing. Maybe because I am still young and cannot really understand what my father's back view left to Zhu Ziqing, I just feel a little sour. It was sour and astringent. But one thing made me understand Zhu Ziqing’s endless and indescribable feelings, and that was the back of my mother...
My mother is an ordinary and ordinary person. Great mother. My mother wakes up early every day and is busy with housework and taking care of things in the factory. Usually I have lunch at school, but recently, I have a stomach bug, so my mother comes to pick me up at noon every day. Go home for dinner.
This undoubtedly added to the burden on my mother. It was a winter with heavy rain, cold weather and heavy rain. I stood shivering at the school gate waiting for my mother to pick me up. The test papers were handed out in the morning, and my usually good results were changed this time. There is a huge contrast. The teacher also talked to me in the morning. In fact, I have tried my best, but how could I get such a score? This morning, the sky is gray and my heart is gray. Now, I just hope to see you soon. I went to my mother so that I could complain to my mother, but time passed by minute by second. I should have been here long ago, but my mother? It was almost 12 o'clock. Other students were taken home by their parents one after another. The students who had lunch at school were also full. The more I waited, the more anxious I became. The more I waited, the more disappointed I became. Tears fell down. Right here. At that time, the teacher came to me and told me that my grandfather was sick and was getting an intravenous drip in the hospital. My mother told me to eat at school first. When I heard this, I was very angry. She knew that I had a bad stomach and she still asked me to eat at school. If I really couldn't leave. I should have called earlier to tell me why I was kept waiting for so long, not to mention on such a cold day. I felt so wronged and tears welled up in my eyes. I was so angry that I didn't even eat lunch.
It’s already the end of the first class in the afternoon. It’s raining harder outside, and it seems to be colder than in the morning. The feeling of anger is really uncomfortable. I haven’t eaten at noon, and my stomach starts to growl. I was really cold and hungry. I started to feel that I was a little too much at noon. In fact, it was not my mother's fault. I was thinking, "Hey, your mother is waiting for you outside! Go quickly!" The table shouted to me. Is this true? Oh my god, it was so cold outside. I ran out in a hurry, and a familiar figure appeared in my sight. It was really my mother. I saw that her entire trouser legs were wet. She was holding an umbrella in one hand and a lunch box in the other. Her face was so haggard and anxious. All the resentment she had at noon had been thrown away. I completely ignored the opinions and opinions of the teachers and classmates. With eyes wide open, he rushed out of the classroom, threw himself into his mother's arms, and asked gently: "Mom, it's raining and it's so cold, why are you still here?" "I'm afraid you won't have enough to eat at noon, so I bought you the beef fried rice you like. Sit down and eat quickly. "My throat was choked up after listening to my mother's words. I didn't dare to tell her. In fact, I haven't eaten yet! She took out a box from her bag and said, "Qianqian, it's my mother's fault for not picking you up in time at noon, making you hungry. But my mother really can't leave. Eat quickly, it's still hot." Your father has to ship goods to the factory today, and your grandfather is still in the hospital. I have to leave." Suddenly, my heart felt like I had knocked over a five-flavor bottle. It smelled of everything, but more of regret and self-blame. I raised my head. , then I noticed that my mother’s hands were red and purple from the cold, she didn’t even wear gloves, her face was red from the wind, and the traces of time had climbed up her forehead. I can’t eat anymore, I can’t Take control of yourself and fall into your mother's arms again. In my mother's arms, I cried secretly and shed tears of shame.
I didn't let my mother see it and tried my best to hide it. My mother smiled and said, "Eat quickly! The food won't taste good when it's cold! I'm leaving!" I didn't look up, I just said "hmm" and waited until I looked up again. At that time, my mother had already walked out of the school gate, leaving only a back figure for me. The back figure seemed to have many meanings, but more of it was my mother's love for me. I stood there for a long time holding the box lunch, with tears still in my eyes. In the wind, I thought a lot...