You must have seen classic poems in your daily life or work and study. In form, poetry is not based on sentences, but on behavior, and its branches are mainly based on rhythm, not meaning. So what kind of poem is a good poem? The following is my collection of poems recited by boys and children for your reference only, hoping to help you.
Boys and children recite poems 1 maybe
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Draw a hill
Covered with faint fluff.
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring throbs.
Be a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival.
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to sweep away all misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the last one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation.
Draw the sea
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
Boys and children recite poems 2 Maybe.
I am a child spoiled by my mother.
I am very self willed
I hope
Every moment.
As beautiful as colored crayons.
I hope
You can draw on your beloved white paper.
Freedom to paint clumsily.
Draw the next picture Never.
With tears in my eyes
A piece of sky
A feather and leaf belonging to the sky.
Light green night and apples
I want to draw the morning.
Draw dew
The smile you can see.
Draw all the youngest
Love without pain
She has never seen a cloud.
Her eyes are the color of a clear sky.
She always looks at me.
Forever, watch
Never turn around suddenly.
I want to paint the distant scenery.
Draw a clear horizon and water waves
Draw many happy rivers.
Draw a hill
Covered with faint fluff.
I put them together.
Let them fall in love.
Let every acquiescence
Every quiet spring throbs.
Be a little flower's birthday.
I also want to paint the future.
I haven't seen her, and I can't.
But I know she is beautiful.
I drew her autumn clothes.
Draw those burning candles and maple leaves
I paint a lot because I love her.
Extinguished heart
Hua wedding
Draw an early-rising festival.
There is cellophane on it.
And illustrations of northern fairy tales
I am a wayward child.
I want to sweep away all misfortunes.
I think on earth
Draw all the windows
Let all eyes get used to the darkness.
Accustomed to the light
I want to paint a style.
Draw a mountain higher than the last one.
Draw the desire of the oriental nation.
Draw the sea
Endless sweet sound
Finally, in the corner of the paper
I want to paint myself, too
Draw a koala
He sat in the dark jungle of Victoria.
Sitting on a quiet branch
stare blankly
He has no home.
There is no heart in the distance.
He only has, a lot.
Berry dream
And big eyes.
I hope
think
But somehow,
I have no crayons.
Don't get a color moment.
I only have me.
My fingers and pain.
Just shredded pieces.
Beloved white paper
Let them find butterflies.
Let them disappear from today.
I'm still a kid.
A child spoiled by an imaginary mother
I am very self willed
Boys and children recite poems 3, sad fragments
Author: Lori
The evening breeze is a little tired and warm. The yellow light of the setting sun caged the blooming trees next to the house. Snow-white petals scattered all over the floor, one by one, how lonely.
It seems that I have been waiting for a long time in this land. I sit on an oblique branch every day and sing that lonely song. Sad notes spread like ripples in the sea. No trace. Prose bar original
I began to remember how beautiful the dream of petal weaving is. White and noble, like a princess's castle in a fairy tale, and like the brightest star in the starry night, flashing with cheerful songs. Wandering every day and having a good time. Who will swing me under the tree, one high and one low, like grandpa's rocking chair? The warm sunshine sprinkled on the leaves, the soft music played under the trees, and the long flute began to precipitate and dissipate ...
The branches suddenly trembled and woke me up from my dream. The tide has faded, the tired sunset on the horizon has gone away, and the yellow moon has gradually risen. The faint yellow light caged the locust tree beside the house, and the jagged leaves were mottled and swaying. Pieces of snow-white petals fell on my lonely back and floated into the sea.
My sadness, like these white petals, floated into the lonely and cold night. ...
Three children's prose recitations were shared above. Do you like them? Also want to know the relevant information, please pay attention to the network.
Boys and children recite poems. It was very cold in the north, and it snowed all night. It was another cold night when I came, and it snowed again Soft snowflakes bloom quietly in the evening breeze. Lonely snow, beautiful snow.
Snowflakes fall silently, fly ethereally, fall everywhere and pounce on every corner. It snowed all night, but when I woke up in the morning, it was "like a strong wind in spring, blowing at night and blowing open the petals of ten thousand pear trees." Snow turned the world into a white and boundless silver palace, and the cage was covered with a layer of silver plain clothes. Like a pear tree in the heavenly palace, pieces of white petals are swaying and falling in the dust. The splendor of the three seasons has turned into plain white today, everything is so clean and elegant, and everything is silent.
When the snow falls all over the sky, the world in the north is so clean, so bright and so holy, winding the world into a piece of white glaze. In this poetic season, pushing open the porch window of dreams, listening to the snow falling in the cold and withered flowers, listening to the pure white heart of the hexagonal fairy falling in front of the window, listening to its gentle sigh and warm voice when it landed, just like listening to the melody of a flower. That piece of snow, dancing, dancing with a smile, dancing with a faint fragrance.
In fact, I like snow very much, because it is a season of laughing and crying like our youth. There are regrets, sighs, and no emotions. Look at the quietly falling snow, touching our youthful and soft hearts and enjoying the rare peace. Facing the snow, looking at Wan Li, quietly listening to the voice of his inner world. Don't think about anything, don't think about anything. At this moment, the mind has no boundaries and the mood does not need to be blocked. The sky is vast, the snow is free, the disturbance is flying and the soul is dancing.
In the falling snow, the snow is still telling, telling the joy of meeting in one season and the long thoughts of three seasons. Think more, listen to the crystal snowflakes and sing a pure rhyme song. I want to keep it snowing and wrap everything up. I can't see beauty, ugliness, nobility, good and evil. I only see a paradise without disturbance, where vast expanse is frozen into eternity, and there is just a poetic paradise like snow.
Boys and children recite poem 5 "Take the train"
Dad took me by train,
When the train starts,
Things outside the window moved;
The mountain began to shrink back,
The trees also retreated,
The house also retreated. ...
Wow! Everything is going backwards,
It's weird, it's too fast,
None of us have to walk,
I arrived in Taipei at once.
Boys and children recite poems 6 wildflowers
Wild flowers are in the wild grass, one in the east and one in the west, like the face of an elf, smiling at my mother and me, with snow-white star flowers and golden sun flowers.
Elves have round faces. Trying to get them out of vilen.
We picked a lot and held it in our hands. Looking back, the wild flowers left behind are still things, or a lot.
Boys and children recite poem 7 "I learned to write"
When I learned to write "Little Sheep",
Suddenly, trees, houses, fences,
Everything I see with my eyes,
It's all rolled up like wool
When I picked up a pen and wrote "River",
Write down my little exercise book,
There was a splash in front of my eyes,
A palace rose from the bottom of the water
When my pen writes "grass",
I saw bees busy among the flowers.
Two butterflies are dancing,
I can put them all in the net with a wave of my hand.
If I write "My Dad",
I want to sing and dance several times at a time,
I am the tallest and in the best health.
I can do anything well.
Boys and children recite poems 8 rickshaw pullers
□ Author: Shen
The sun is weak, the white clouds are long, the wind blows thin ice, and the river does not flow.
Go out and rent a rickshaw. There are many pedestrians in the street; There are so many cars and horses that I don't know what to do.
The people on the rickshaw were all wearing cotton-padded clothes and looking at each other with open hands. They felt that the wind was blowing, but it was cold.
The coachman's clothes are torn, but his sweat is falling.
Boys and children recite poems, 9 colors of spring rain
Spring rain, like a thread spun by a girl in spring, falls endlessly on the ground, rustling, rustling. ...
A flock of birds sheltered from the rain under the eaves. They are arguing about an interesting question: What color is the spring rain?
The little white dove said, "Spring rain is colorless. Reach for a few drops. "
The swallow said, "No, the spring rain is green. Look! Spring rain falls on the grass and the grass is green. Willow leaves fall in the spring rain, and the willow branches are green. . . "
The sparrow said, "No, no! Spring rain is red. Look! The spring rain sprinkled on the peach tree, and the peach blossom turned red! Spring rain drops on apricot trees, and apricot flowers turn red. ...
10 lyricism of children's poetry on the shore.
□ Author: Yang Dexiang
As long as there is shore, people will cheer on the bamboo raft on the peach blossom water.
As long as there is a shore, a new ferry and a waterway, it is necessary to refuel.
As long as there is shore, the feat of frolicking children will be handed down.
Do you want to build bridges, dams and gates? Look, the shore is high and the shoulders are high.
( 1986)
Boys and children recite poems 1 1 "Aunt Autumn"
we
Think about Aunt Qiu.
Think about the harvest
I haven't met Aunt Qiu.
But I guess aunt Qiu's face
It's red
conglobate
brassy
I haven't met Aunt Qiu.
But I think aunt Qiu
He is a painter.
Aunt Qiu is here,
Give fruit trees and crops
Painted golden yellow
Fire red
Aunt Qiu
Busy.
-She gave everything.
Laundry baskets and bags
It's all loaded
Complete particle
Rich fruit
Fruit likes pouting.
Make a suggestion and say:
Kuang Luo is too young.
I can't hold it!
Aunt Qiu
It's very kind of her.
She brought it to us.
A cool breeze
Do that
Show the villagers the yard
Little brothers and grandmothers
Pufan on the handle
Put them away one by one.
Aunt Qiu
Come in with dew.
Tread on frost flowers
Quietly left
She left it to us.
The joy of another bumper harvest
Boys and children really recite poems 12
□ Author: Michelle
I am poor and have nothing.
My only wealth is my sincerity. The only thing I am satisfied with is my sincerity. My only pride is my sincerity. Because of it, my head never lowers; Because of it, my eyes never dodge.
My sincerity makes my life without sadness, pain and regret.
May my sincere life shine forever.
Boys and children recite poems on a snowy night 13.
Author: Walking in the starry sky
The first snow in 20xx came later than usual. The heavy snow came quietly, and the land was vast and white, so beautiful.
The falling snow is light, gentle and romantic. Because of the arrival of snowflakes, the earth has become white and solemn. Perhaps the wind couldn't bear to disturb the tranquility of the snowflake, so it retired. Prose bar original
I walked out of the house on my back and welcomed the beautiful snowflake with open arms. I really wanted to kiss her, but she was too shy to speak, but she melted. I want to hold her in my hand so that she won't be hurt again, but she left silently after a short stay, leaving you with very gentle tears.
God gave the earth a white gift. The white earth is like a blank sheet of paper. You can write the most beautiful words and draw the most beautiful watercolors. Snowflakes all over the sky have swept away all the troubles and sorrows in the world and washed away all your annoyances and regrets. This kind of artistic conception makes you have to rearrange your thoughts and re-examine the whole world.
It is said that plum blossoms are also proud of snow. Looking at the bright color under the snow is the challenge of life to the severe winter. Without the foil of snowflakes, how can plum blossoms be fragrant?
I love snowflakes because of their tenderness and beauty. ...
Boys and children recite poems 14 Fire of Ice
□ Author: Lu Xun
Is the flowing fire molten coral?
There are some green and white in the middle, like coral's heart, red all over, like coral's meat, and the outer layer is a little black, so the coral is burnt.
Good is good, but it will be hot.
When it is inexplicably cold, the water freezes.
Some are green in the middle, like coral heart, red all over, like coral meat, and the outer layer is a little black, but the coral is still burnt.
It's fine, but it's a pity to burn my hands.
Fire, the ice of fire, people can't help him, does he suffer?
Alas, ice of fire.
Alas, alas, the man of fire and ice!