Prose poems praising mother

In study, work and life, you often see prose, right? Prose is a common literary genre, with extensive materials and rich artistic expression. How to write a composition that "the form is scattered but the spirit is not scattered" The following is my collection of prose poems praising my mother. Welcome to share.

Prose poem praising mother 1 Your pale fingertips manage my sideburns.

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.

Prose poem praising mother 2 is beside mother.

I feel like a child whose umbilical cord has never been cut.

Never grew up.

Never grow up.

/

Next to my mother.

Always don't want to leave

Than go far.

Than grow up.

/

Have a mother.

I feel like a tame cat.

I want to be in her warm arms forever.

Eager to enjoy sweet milk.

To absorb mother's greatness and mother's kindness.

Make yourself very powerful, very powerful.

/

Have a mother.

Busy placenta

It's like a giant converter.

Transform energy and emotion

Umbilical cord flow and beating

Like an emissary

Convey the feeling of love

/

Have a mother.

Umbilical cord is like a strong rope.

No matter how far you drift.

No matter how high you fly.

Shemama

Always will be.

Call you back.

Go back to her.

/

Maybe, one day in the future.

Mom is really old.

Maybe, one day in the future.

Rope, umbilical cord

It's really broken

by then

That kid.

Maybe a grown-up child.

Prose poem praising mother 3 Mother's arms,

This is a warm hug.

Hold me tenderly,

Grow up little by little.

Mother's arms,

This is a sweet hug.

How many mornings wake up,

I am coquetry in the nest.

Mother's arms,

It is a happy hug.

No matter how old I am,

Is my eternal harbor.

Mother's arms,

Where I will always be attached.