How to write the poem "Parents who miss heaven"?

The voice is slow, Moon is unforgettable, pregnant in October, miserable and dead. ? Hungry and cold, naked, let the children feel ashamed and full of guilt. ? Si Er has eyebrows and tattoos. ? Soak an inch of grass, spring is not reported, and snow and frost are messy. ? I hate complaining when my mother died of illness. Time is running out in heaven. ? Suddenly thunder, cold rain moistens your eyes. ? From now on, there will be no laughter, flowers will bloom and flowers will fall, and spring will be beautiful. ? When I am drunk, I am afraid that the cold wind will blow away my warm dreams. ?

Qinyuan spring sacrifices to mother's sorrow, cold rain is raining, and filial piety is floating. ? Endure sobbing and miss your family; Shh, mourn the death of mother. ? Hungry, hard for half a life, as children and grandchildren will eventually accumulate tuberculosis. ? I'm just lucky. I hate impermanence and ointment. ? With the children's talk, the tears are gone and the soul is gone. ? If you visit the thoughts, the heaven is far away; Looking back a hundred times, the world of Buddhism is far away. ? Dry your tears, raise your head to relieve the pain, and then revitalize your family to comfort your mother. ? Kiss again and you will enjoy all the year round and have money every day. ?

Shuidiao (New Rhyme) When will the loving mother Zhou Nianji meet again? I don't feel that my loving mother has passed away, and my grief has been anniversary. I am like a lonely kite with a broken line, sighing its impermanence and dispersion, and the hay has no home. No matter how bitter it is, who cares about the cold on the moon? The sky is hazy, starry and sleepless. The night is very long, I miss you again and again. It's hard for children and grandchildren to do it again, and it's hard to remember family happiness, and resentment suddenly increases. Driving a crane to the west, where there is a sunny day, I miss my parents' poems in the sky, and I don't know where they fall. I often miss Bai Yunfei. I want to see empty tears, but I want to be silent. ?

Chiang Kai-shek's love for his son is endless, and he is happy to return to China. Cold clothes are needle and thread, and letters from home are ink stains. If you encounter pity, you will ask for it. I am ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh.

Looking at my hometown in Yutan, in the sea of clouds: picturesque. ? Sigh wanderer, Wan Li in Wan Li, no worries. ? How many joys and sorrows are there in the years? How bitter and spicy is life? I'm not afraid to tell my dear mother in my dream. ? People who lie still and rest are worried about Huang Chen. ? Inscriptions are jagged, filial piety is the first word, and purple smoke haunts Qingyun. ? There is pain, tears of loving mother, no regrets. ? Several times I saw the spring selling water, and all I heard was gratitude.