I miss my father's modern poem-the river is crystal clear, and pebbles, large and small, cover the riverbed. Seven or eight teenagers were laughing and playing in the river, and from time to time they stirred up countless splashes, glittering and translucent. The sun shines warmly on the water, and colorful lights dance on the river.
"Me too, me too." I sat on my father's shoulder and clapped my hands and shouted.
Father took off his shoes and socks, carefully went down into the river, walked more than ten steps before coming back, and said happily, "The water is not cold, you can come down and play."
I stood in the water and shouted excitedly, learning the way of those teenagers, splashing water on my father, who smiled happily and dodged everywhere.
In my sleep, I was awakened by my own giggle.
In the darkness, I saw my father's loving smile again. My father's voice and face before his death, scene after scene, unfolded before my eyes.
When I was young, that is, in the 1960s and 1970s, my father, a technical cadre, earned only 50 yuan, while my mother, a middle school teacher, earned less than 40 yuan. Therefore, for a family with three children, the economy is very tight. In addition, it was a planned economy at that time, and everything was scarce. So on weekdays, my father often skimps on himself, reluctant to eat and wear, leaving his share to us and always trying his best to improve our lives. Father always said, "Children are growing up and need nutrition. No matter how hard it is, you can't suffer the child. "
Every sunny Sunday, my father will take me to the suburbs to engage in sideline business.
On the east side of the peach tree forest in the suburbs, there is a winding river. Father will fish or catch frogs in the river.
I like watching my father catch frogs best. Father tied a thin long rope to a long bamboo pole, tied a wisp of cotton at the end of the rope, and then gently shook the bamboo pole to let the wisp of cotton jump on the frog's head, so that the frog would mistakenly think it was a moth. Just then, his father threw a bamboo pole hard and the frog was thrown on the grass.
Every time I go, I will return with a full load!
When we enter the house, my father will urge my mother to cook a pot with fragrance, and then look at us with a smile. Father is determined not to eat! Afraid that we were sorry, my father touched his chest and said, "I ate too much at noon and my stomach is still swollen."
My father suffered all his life.
Father was born in a big landlord family, men, women and children 100 people. My father was catching up with the land reform when he was a teenager. Land is divided, houses are divided, and mules and horses are saved. Suddenly, life took a big dive! Overnight, superiority is no longer, stability is no longer! Instead, panic and discrimination! Although the elders are often criticized in the street, they don't forget their children's education and study. Father and his brothers, in the oppressive environment of class struggle every day, were admitted to the university and became professors, engineers, doctors and so on.
Politically, black five is excluded, but my father is not vulgar and inferior. My father stands proudly in that chaotic world with his wisdom and knowledge!
I remember when I was a child, I was always worried about filling in the family composition on the registration form and felt inferior for my high composition, but I never blamed my father. I know I am proud of being a father's daughter!
When I was in the second grade, I transferred to the distant Xijiao Middle School.
At that time, my father would pick me up every day, but I didn't appreciate it. I always pouted and even complained angrily to my father: "You made me lose face in front of my classmates!" " My classmates think I'm a sissy, and they will laugh at me as a bourgeois lady! You forget that in the first year of primary school, you bought me a pair of red leather shoes, and I was scolded by my classmates for more than a year: small leather shoes, jingle, bourgeois bad ideas! "Father is always sorry. He smiled and was not angry. Every time I jump into the back seat of my father's bike angrily, I ignore my father all the way.
Even so, I know that only in front of my father can I be so willful and unruly! As a father's daughter, I am very happy!
The second modern poem in memory of my father Whenever Tomb-Sweeping Day approaches, I dream of my father.
Eleven years ago, one morning near Tomb-Sweeping Day, my father left for the west.
That day, I have been guarding my father with a slight breath. Late at night, I fell asleep before my father's bed.
I dreamed that I was riding a motorcycle on a crowded road. Suddenly, the handle of the motorcycle broke and the motorcycle lost its direction.
When I woke up in a cold sweat, I saw my father's face gradually becoming calm and serene.
I have no father! Without father's support! Without the solid support of a big mountain!
I don't want the nurse to take my father away!
I pressed my face against my father's chest and insisted that I could hear his heartbeat. The nurse was helpless and said, ok, then lift it after dawn.
I held my father's cold hand and was so sad that I burst into tears.
After dawn, our brother and sister, urged by the nurse, carried our father to the morgue.
The sky is falling! It was raining heavily in the dark sky, and the rain and our tears flowed freely to the ground and merged into a stream.
Father, there are tears in heaven! The earth also whimpers!
We walked with heavy steps and walked through layers of rain, deeply grieved!
In the quiet yard, only our brothers and sisters cry from the heart!
Father was put in a cold refrigerator.
"Don't! Dad! Don't! " I cried my heart out and rushed forward, trying to stop the nurse, but I was pulled back again and again. Father, it's too cold there. How can you stand it? How can I stand it! You should sleep in a warm and soft bed at home!
"Don't! Dad! Don't! I didn't take good care of you! "
I know, I will never forgive myself again in my life! This will be the heartache of my life!
"Dad, dad!" The road to heaven is so far away, and your body is so weak. How can I reassure my daughter?
Yin and Yang are separated, and the road is broken!
"Dad, dad!" The road to heaven is so dark, you must walk slowly, slowly! Be careful without your family around!
I am sad to give up my father, but I am so sad!
A modern poem in memory of my father. My father has been dead for twelve years, but his voice and smile are so clear that they often appear in my mind. Many times, I will think of my father when I see those thin and short old people doing morning exercises on the road! At this time, tears will blur your eyes!
Father is a particularly determined and tenacious person! Ever since my father had an operation for laryngeal cancer, he has been doing morning exercises every day, rain or shine. I remember the fifth day after the operation, the doctor said that early exercise would help the wound heal. Father held back the pain and insisted on getting out of bed and walking around three times a day.
Every time I get up to exercise, my father is full of sweat. I can't bear to watch big beads of sweat rolling down my father's head. I have repeatedly advised my father to rest and not to walk again, but my father always smiled and shook his head and insisted on walking twice.
Before his father died, he was extremely weak! That day, when I leaned over my father's ear and gently asked him what he wished for, my father opened his eyes with difficulty and motioned for me to get a pen. I hurriedly picked up a pen and paper and held it in front of my father. I saw my father raise his hand with all his strength, and I was busy holding his arm. Father scribbled a few words on the paper: Take care of your mother. After writing the last word, my father was sweating all over his face!
I nodded hard and choked. In the past ten years, I have been meticulous to my mother, not only because of my love and filial piety, but also because of my father's great trust!