Thanks to our parents, we grew up in the sunshine of love. We nourish the true feelings of the world. How many times have we fallen asleep with a happy feeling? How many times have we imagined the future with moving tears? The last Thursday in June is Thanksgiving Day. Although it is far away, a grateful heart and a grateful feeling will remain in our hearts forever. People who are always grateful are the happiest, and grateful life is the sweetest. Learn to be grateful-thank my parents, because they gave me precious life, learn to be grateful-thank my teachers, because they gave me endless knowledge, learn to be grateful-thank my friends, because they gave me the strength to overcome difficulties, learn to be grateful-appreciate everything around me. Because they gave me a harmonious and healthy growth space, don't forget to say-"thank you". On our growing road, there are too many people to be grateful for. No matter who you want to thank most, write a thank-you note on the thank-you card. There is a saying that is the kindest, and there is a telephone that is the most beautiful. There is one person who should be grateful most. It's "mom" Her mother has deep wrinkles. She gave her beautiful youth to my mother's hand. She gave warm sunshine to my mother's waist. She looked straight into my mother's eyes. She gave me bright eyes, let me face her deep feelings and listen to her ardent hopes. We should learn to be grateful. I gradually forgot to be moved and forgot to say thank you. Motherly love is like a cup of strong tea, which needs us to savor carefully. Please enjoy the essay "A Pack of jiaozi". A bag of jiaozi is insignificant, but mother's love is touching. Let us live a happy life and grow up without worry, which is the wish of all parents. Moderator A: If maternal love is a ship, it will carry us from adolescence to maturity; Then fatherly love is a sea, which gives us a happy harbor. If the mother's true feelings ignite the hope in our hearts; Then my father's love will be our sail. What can I thank you for, my parents! Parents' love is endless, and all kindness is in our hearts. Poems dedicated to my alma mater There are first-class teachers, energetic students, Dibo Park, which gathers scenic spots all over the world, a biological park where exotic flowers and plants are planted, our most precious memories, our most unforgettable junior high school life, our closest friends, our unforgettable hard work in military training and our last hard struggle in this beautiful school. There is affection, righteousness, bitterness and joy in the garden, but more of it is the elegant demeanor washed by sweat = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = I will love you forever-a poem dedicated to my alma mater hangs your name on my chest every day, and I can feel your great love. You will always be me. At that time, your shoulders were like a wooden house with blue sky and white clouds. I once imagined that we could stand together forever. All the beautiful mornings and nights wake up silently at your feet and fall asleep again. Until today, I have grown into a moving tree and relived the love you gave me. Just like you, I will stand in a corner of my life at will, forming a shade. = = = = = = = = = = = = Memories of my alma mater. It is you who have nurtured the future of our motherland. You educated the next generation. You taught me knowledge. You made me understand the fun of learning. I'm like a little flower that just bloomed. You gave me soil, you gave me clear water, I grew up in your arms, I studied in your arms, you let me know what I should do, you won't let me become idle when I grow up, you let me know the mystery of the world, thank you, my alma mater is you let me, a lost bird, find my partner and find my home again, ah, my alma mater says thank you again. My alma mater, I am about to leave, and you will be buried in my heart forever! = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = I love you forever-a poem dedicated to my alma mater. I hang your name on my chest every day. I can feel your great love. You will always be my forest. I am the seed of a smile. My thoughts sprout in your care every time. I used to fantasize that we could stand together forever, wake up at your feet and fall asleep silently in all beautiful mornings and nights. Until today, I have grown into a moving tree to relive the love you gave me. I just want to stand in a corner of my life like you, and form a green shade in the storm of years = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A hymn dedicated to my alma mater, where I was once your strong, enthusiastic and unrestrained student. I loved you deeply. From the moment I walked into the gate of your school, you gave me knowledge, inspired me and helped me climb the ladder of success. When I come back to you, I look at you with my eyes wide open. High blue sky, green grass and magnificent classroom, the thoughts I recall are like a storm from the Great Wall, and the passion I associate is like a tide rising from the sea, stirring my unspeakable poems and unforgettable memories, and irresistibly arousing a series of endless emotions, although I can't be like a superb pianist. In the morning glow, in the warm summer night, I pull the strings to play melodious melody for you. I won't sing loudly, let the beautiful songs float over the high wall, through the cracks in the trees and fall in the Liu Yin by the lake, but I can dedicate my poems to you as my sincere gift for your centennial celebration with passion, blessing and aura. My heart is with my alma mater, teachers and classmates. The sincere friendship of teachers has been instilling knowledge, wisdom and creativity into my immature heart, making my scrawled pen turn white paper into a banner of success. Although I have been away from here for a long time, I have a relationship with her. The same friendship has a constant connection with her. It is full of hope of sowing. Gorgeous designs are woven here, and a large number of talents are bred here. It heralds a bumper harvest. I once bloomed here like a strong red flower and stood upright with a smile. My heart is so happy, as if I were with my beloved girl. The night in August * * * tells the sweetness of life. My alma mater, I belong to you, a wanderer who never stops wandering around, carrying your knowledge bag, crossing the plains, hills and green grasslands to meet the challenges of life and experience the baptism of wind and rain. Every step of my success will always be closely connected with you, and you have nurtured it with knowledge. Oh, I will also dedicate all my efforts to you. I have been to many beautiful places and enjoyed many wonderful times. I have had many close friends and suffered loneliness and sadness. The temptation of lust no longer makes me emotional. When the torture of life has made me feel ashamed, but in my real world, I will never forget you-my alma mater-who gave me the power of knowledge, benefited me for life and filled me with the courage to win. I miss you a hundred times, a thousand times and a million times at my alma mater in Zibo No.6 Middle School. I have quietly come to your campus more than once, twice and ten times. Dear alma mater, you have changed your appearance, but my affection for your alma mater has increased. Rich, passionate and full, approaching you, my heart is suddenly enlightened and comfortable, like standing under the starry sky on a summer night, the fragrance of the fields is rippling around, the sky is full of fairy-tale poetry, which makes my heart rise and fall again. The past is like a dream, and it changes in a hurry before my eyes. Think about how the ideal of youth in childhood turned into real life in struggle, how to create everything, and how to build it for a hundred years. On the journey of life, my alma mater is old and gloomy, but like a girl in bud, with joy, reverie and charming image, it keeps emerging in my dream town. What kind of emotions are used to praise you? I hope you are as bright as the sun at eight or nine o'clock in the morning. Poems dedicated to teachers are like gardeners, caring for budding flowers, and teachers are like candles, lighting themselves and illuminating students. Every time I see her classmates' homework neatly written, her face is full of smiles. Day after day, year after year, the old man's footprints have been printed on her eyes. Every day the teacher goes to bed at the latest and gets up at the earliest! If there is no teacher to feed us diligently, where will there be generations of talents? ..... Ah, teacher, you are so great! Whenever I make a mistake, I see your tolerant eyes! Teacher, you have worked hard! A poem dedicated to the teacher, send you a bunch of flowers to express our respect for you; Send you a touching song, bring you a little sweetness. Teacher-you have worked hard, you have brought us through the difficulties, you have nourished us with knowledge, but you never ask for anything in return. You told us not to give up easily when we encounter difficulties. Since then, our life has been full of joy at any time. There is a lot less trouble. It adds a kind of fortitude. It's another harvest autumn, and you still hold the colored brush in your hand. It depicts a beautiful blueprint and nourishes the peaches and plums of the motherland. In the middle of the night, you are still preparing lessons carefully, and in your sleep, you are still recalling the joy of our success. We are flowers in full bloom in spring, and you have played a wonderful melody for us. You are a diligent gardener, and we will remember your earnest teachings. Have a good life. A poem dedicated to the teacher-the teacher's eyes are like the moon at night. We are stars, shining in the teacher's smile. A teacher's eyes are like an endless ocean. We are small fish, swimming happily in the teacher's arms. Teachers' eyes are like the blue sky. We are a white cloud. Under her gaze, freedom floats everywhere, and the teacher's eyes are like mirrors. Can light up our hearts. Poems dedicated to teachers are like gardeners, with peaches and plums all over the world; Teachers are like red candles, burning themselves to illuminate us; Teachers are like bees, hardworking and brave; Teachers are like mothers, beautiful and kind; A teacher is like a book, giving us a lot of knowledge. Happy Teachers' Day to my dear teacher. Poetry sends you a bunch of flowers to show our respect for you; Send you a touching song, bring you a little sweetness. Teacher-you have worked hard, you have brought us through the difficulties, you have nourished us with knowledge, but you never ask for anything in return. You told us not to give up easily when we encounter difficulties. Since then, our life has been full of joy at any time. There is a lot less trouble. It adds a kind of fortitude. It's another harvest autumn, and you still hold the colored brush in your hand. It depicts a beautiful blueprint and nourishes the peaches and plums of the motherland. In the middle of the night, you are still preparing lessons carefully, and in your sleep, you are still recalling the joy of our success. We are flowers in full bloom in spring, and you have played a wonderful melody for us. You are a diligent gardener, and we will remember your earnest teachings. Have a good life. September-a poem dedicated to Teachers' Day, fruity and yellow in September, but I still smell it. The fragrance of peaches and plums in March and the cool autumn in September give us an introverted and dignified autumn. The fruit of September gives us maturity and gives us yearning for autumn. In this golden autumn season, we have the self-evident happiness of being in separate ways. Children, I hope your eyes are shining with hope, and don't wander deeply at the fork in the road of life. I hope my soul will light the lighthouse in your heart and hold the right course for you in the dark sea. I would like to use my silent and persistent heart to create thousands of possible paths for you on the three-foot platform. I would like to live and study with your youthful passion, grow together and bloom for life! I know that this festival reflects China people's respect and hope for teachers for thousands of years. Chalk and branches Gaga draw the curve of life. Homework, accumulated layer by layer, is an eager expectation. I am no longer a candlelight, because the faint candlelight is not enough to illuminate your direction; I will not be a silkworm, because it is not the dream of a free soul that binds me. I am the sun, burning and generating, bringing you radiant heat; As the leading goose, I spread my wings and soar with you in the clear sky of Wan Li. Children, I want you to look at the wider world. Children, I am just a ray of sunshine in September. On the journey of your growth, I, we, for the future of the nation, for the hope of the nation, we will burn brighter than the sky and ignite your pile of warm fire! In September, we trudged between Japan and China. We have given everything and gained everything. Children, it is your diligence and love that enrich our pockets. We are full of passion, because like you, we are all free masters of life. The sails are still sailing in September, children, I want you to say loudly, "OK, I'm coming. Follow you-my captain-"= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A poem dedicated to Teachers' Day: Fruity September, Chrysanthemum. We remember who was still sowing hope for us in September. In September, the poet wrote immortal poems. We have never forgotten who silently made our wedding clothes. In September, we dare not forget who taught us to think. In September, I dare not forget who made the world have love and books. In September, we dare not forget who built the temple of knowledge with hard work. In September, we dare not forget who guided us in confusion. In September, we guarded the harvest of wheat waves. Still growing up in the textbooks in September, we will never forget the admiration with emotional memories. There is something called sacredness, which is the star that comes at dawn on the horizon, silently shining with countless flashes that come first and then arrive, and running towards the dream together. There is something called eternity, which is a rock watching the tide by the sea. In the storm, life gradually dried up and became a totem worshipped by countless pilgrims. There is such a thing as sincerity. Simple white clouds carry too many birds eager to fly with their tired eyes. There is something called making love, simplicity, dedication or farewell praise, because it is so beautiful. Yes, some people wrote a great poem by themselves, just like the silent ears of wheat grow and harvest, and then give birth to hope.
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