Jiuyun's poems

Pay tribute to your father. Dad was exhausted all his life. Your belief is only to seek happiness for his children. It is because of your efforts that the family is harmonious and happy, and the days are getting better and better. Maybe only mom is better in the world, and not many people are calling for it, because it is undeniable that dad is no less devoted to his family than mom. In the real society, dad is the source of family income. He is silently supporting the whole family without any complaints. Nothing is more important than relying on his family, so as a father, he is destined to work hard for the comfort and happiness of his family all his life. What a respectable and great father, there is no more selfless love in the world than fatherly love. It's time to express our sincere love to our father on Father's Day. Father is a mountain when he is hazy, and he can always see far from his shoulders. Far away, when I was sensible, my father was a stubborn bent pine, only to find that my weight was so heavy. So heavy and now, father, you are a deep poem. Your son silently reads tears and gently sheds his father's blue sky, a dark and mysterious mountain, a quiet and deep vast land, a vibrant opportunity, and how harmonious all creatures are with nature. The field ridge in Tanaka is a beautiful staff, the grains dancing in the wind are jumping notes, and the Jiuqu Mountain Road is the string of heaven and earth, which was pulled out by the light footsteps of parents, but it is the swan song of life. Sweat runs in the canal dug by years, stirring the waves of development. The blue veins are the Great Wall built by strength. Gong Yu's spirit of moving mountains extends from here. Moonlight moistens this quiet night. The running water in front of the house took away all the fatigue. I feel peace in snoring, and I feel the light of white hair in the mirror. The years when my father was built by wind and rain have profoundly outlined wisdom and life. Father's grace is no longer. There are traces everywhere. Dead leaves and lush grass have long since disappeared. Why are the years so hasty? I remember that night, my father took my little hand to see the sunset dyed red by hongyun. My father seems to be expecting a dream of mine. Guiltily, I dare not look directly at the large clouds that my father expected. It seems that my father loves me deeply. I want to cry for joy. When I was a child, my father always said to me: I am a big tree. You are a small tree. Now a grown-up little tree wants to say to his father: You will always be my big tree father, caressing the railings of the city and looking at the fragrant soil of my hometown. I thought of my father who was outside Qian Shan and above the soil. At that time, my father walked in the wind, changing all kinds of weeding postures, holding farm tools close to the soil, loving the soil and kissing us across the fields in March. At that time, my poems were not very rich, and I grew up in the fields. It has been my father's wish for many years to stand on his head and look like him. It has been many years since I left my hometown. A hunchbacked figure is vivid in my mind. I stood in September with a shiny sickle in my hand. I hope to write to my father and tell him that wind can blow away stones, rain can rust steel and time can bend your spine. Only if your will is indomitable and never changes will it arouse the weight of the whole family's life. Father's tenderness is the endgame of water and you for thousands of years. You lured me across the river with years of respect, and I bet you into the river with your youth. Your car swerved from side to side, sweeping my defense. My horse walked step by step to your nest. Father played a game of chess, and I can't destroy your moat. You can't break into my crystal palace. My father's way tells me that the tombstone erected will be a road sign for progress. This road continues in my life. Ordinary fathers have no carols. There are no feats, only stories I miss. I will stride forward with brave faith and extend my father's road to a brilliant future. Father's Day is coming again, but my father never knows it, just as he never knows he is tired. Father! How many times have you missed our dinner? How many times have you quietly left my dream and remembered the tenderness of your hands touching my face after doing farm work all your life? How many times have your strong body fallen because of us, father! Suddenly I smelled a thick smell of loess. No, that's a strong manly smell coming from you. My eyes are captured by tears again, father! Your blood is in my veins, father! It is Father's Day again. Have you received my blessing again?