Poetry suitable for mother and son to recite

"Son, why did I hit you?" Adapted from Bi Shumin's article of the same name. Mother: I once chatted with my friends. I said I didn't like hitting people since I was a child. You suddenly interrupted: Son: Mom, don't you often hit people? That's me ... Mother: At that moment, the room was very quiet. That day, I continued to talk to my friends a lot, but everything I said was absent-minded. Zi: Later you told me that my stubborn question, like countless tiny tendrils of Parthenocissus tricuspidata, filled your whole heart. Mother: Yes, son, in the face of your innocent eyes, I have to admit that I have only bumped into one person in this world. Son: This person is me? Mother: Yes, this person is you. Not by accident, but often. It's not an understatement, but it's unforgettable. Son: You never hit me when I was a kid. Mother: at that time, where did I give up You are so gentle, like a green pea wrapped in a pod. Son: You are afraid that any slight collision will scratch my tender life. You work day and night for me, with no regrets. Mother: I swear to God that I will do my mother's duty to protect you until the day when I leave this planet, facing your lovesick forehead. Zi: Gradually, I began to grow up like a bamboo shoot. I began to be naughty and mischievous ... Mother: I never hit you with broken pots and pans, dismantled toys and dirty clothes. Zi: You said that a normal and lively child should be forgiven, just like stumbling. Mother: But then, I couldn't help hitting you. Although you are growing up, you are naive and have your own way. You are cunning and full of loopholes. Zi: I am like a naughty little beast, rushing to the yearning grassland without restraint. Mother: I hope you accept the laws recognized by human society. In order to make you remember them and abide by them for life, after all the hard words were declared invalid and all the praise, criticism, intimidation and rewards failed to achieve any effect, I was forced to take out the last weapon-this is beating. Zi: You hit me and taught me a lesson. You said that when I touched the fire, the flame would burn my fingers. This experience made me never meet this orange-red elf shaking like silk again in my life. Mother: I hope that the dirtiest qualities, such as hypocrisy, cowardice, cruelty and cunning, will be cut off from them forever when you first touch them, just like touching fire. So, I hit you again and again to make you feel this pain. Zi: You hit me and I'll protest with you. I said, "It's illegal to hit people!" "Mother: I know it's illegal to hit people, but the world has given parents Amnesty-hitting people is love. But why are my arms tied when I exercise? Son: Mom, you said you used beatings, just like a poor man used his last money. Every time you hit me, your heart is shaking gently. Mother: Yes, I asked myself again and again: Is it necessary to call? What can you do if you don't fight Only when all my efforts fail will I raise my hand. Mother ......................................................................................................................................................................: That's right. If punishing myself can teach you a lesson, son, I'd rather punish myself! Even if it weighs 10 times. Son: But I know that punishment is irreplaceable and cannot be transferred. Mother: Yes, it's like food in hunger. Only when you chew it up and swallow it will it become a part of your life experience. This truth may be a bit profound, and you may not understand it until you are a parent. Son: Mom, you said that hitting people is heavy manual labor, and hitting people with sore shoulders and wrists is like carrying a thousand pieces of honeycomb coal to the fifth floor with your bare hands. Mother: Yes, so people invented tools for hitting people: rulers, soles, feather dusters ... Zi: But you have never used those tools. Mother: No matter how hard the attacker uses, he will suffer the same reaction. I really want to hit you, and at the same time, my finger will personally bear the rebound and suffer the same pain as you. In this way, I can accurately grasp the amount and not accidentally hit you too hard. Zi: I can see that every time you hit me, you feel the pain longer than mine. Mother: Because it's not physical fatigue that hits you, but mental fatigue ... just a child. From now on, I decided not to hit you again. Because I found that today, in front of so many teachers and classmates, you can have a completely equal conversation with your mother effortlessly. You really have grown up! I don't think it is necessary for babies who don't understand reason and adults who already understand reason, because it is useless to them. Son: Only children with a little knowledge, those who think they know but don't really know the truth, can strive to help them grow up quickly. Mom, right? Mother: Yes! Play or not is love, understand? Son: Fight or not, it's all love! We all know! Mom, thank you! The boy and his sister depend on each other. Her parents died young, and she was his only relative. So boys love their sisters more than themselves. However, disaster befalls these two unfortunate children again. My sister is very ill and needs blood transfusion. But the blood in the hospital is too expensive, and the boy has no money to pay any fees. Although the hospital exempted the operation fee, his sister would still die without blood transfusion. As the only relative of my sister, the boy's blood type is the same as my sister's. Ask the boy if he is brave and has the courage to bear the pain when drawing blood. The boy began to hesitate. 10-year-old brain finally nodded after some thinking. When drawing blood, the boy quietly didn't make a sound, just smiled at his sister in the next bed. After drawing blood, the boy asked in a trembling voice, "Doctor, how long can I live?" "The doctor wanted to laugh at the boy's ignorance, but he was shocked: in the brain of the boy 10, he thought that blood transfusion would kill him, but he was still willing to give blood to his sister. At that moment, the boy decided to be brave all his life and make up his mind to die. The doctor's palms are sweating. He held the boy's hand tightly and said, "don't worry, you won't die." Blood transfusion will not lose life. " The boy's eyes lit up: "Really? Then how many years can I live? " The doctor smiled and said lovingly, "You can live to be 100 years old, young man, you are very healthy! ""The boy jumped for joy. When he confirmed that he was really all right, he once again rolled up his arm-the arm that had just bled, held his head high, and solemnly called me youth to the doctors ... Ha ... I am a youth! I'm young, my God! Thank you for giving me a melting pot that can't make steel, sealing and melting my youth; Thank you for giving me a refrigerator to refrigerate my soul; Thank you for burning the ashes of the mountain and burying my germs in the deep stream! Thank you for giving me silk that I don't understand, and let me make cocoons by the river of years. So I am young-when my poems appear in front of people, they are as fresh as the sour fermented in the sheepskin pocket of Kazakh herders! ..... Ha, I'm a young man! I am young, my Hu Da! Just like my countless young companions-youth lost in the desert, only the jingling camel bells hypnotized me; Youth was exposed to the scorching sun, leaving only an unpalatable dried apricot. The bare forehead may be a mound that has already been filled, may be an arc-shaped wrinkle, or may be a parabola drawn casually. So I am young-when we return to spring, you look at me and I look at you, ha ... we all have the characteristics of a generation! As a youth, I have attended numerous youth conferences. To tell the truth, I don't doubt my condition when I was young. Thirty-six years old, MINUS "ten", it's ... no, the group is only over a year old! The author of Scream was older than us. Compared with the young soldiers who never grew old during the Long March, we are just a "group of children"! ..... Ha, I'm a young man! Irony? Then laugh at yourself, bitter bitter-salty. Motherland! Should I feel pain for my child, or should my child feel bitter for you? I often look at innocent children and strangers, and I caress my rosy face. They looked at me strangely and cocked their heads. Like a flock of birds watching dinosaur eggs. They have come a long way, maybe they are heading for youth, but I only have a slightly trembling step inside. ............................................., don't! I want to tell my motherland that the most precious thing in the world is the autonomy of youth! I love, I want to, but I'm not jealous. I cry, I laugh, but I don't complain. I'm ashamed, I'm ashamed, but I don't lament. I'm angry and I hate it, but I won't give up. Since this special era has created a special concept of youth, I will say to the blue sky: I am-youth! I am a young man-my blood vessels will never be blocked by sand; I am a young man-my pupils will never be covered by fog. My bare forehead is a piece of vilen in early spring, and my wrinkles are the beginning of a great river. I'm not an alcoholic, I don't want to dream during the day; I am not an old woman, sighing for the New Year; I'm not a monkey, and I won't be fooled by gong knockers again; I'm not a turtle. I sleep longer and live longer. I am an eagle-there is ambition in the clouds! I am a horse-with a saddle on my back! I am a bone-there is calcium in the bone! I am Khan-there is salt in sweat! Motherland! Since you put us into the echelon of youth because of too many disabilities, we have youth and middle age-shoulder to shoulder! The student said, "Then give half my blood to my sister, and each of us will live for 50 years!" " "People still call me a youth ... ha ... I'm a youth! I'm young, my God! Thank you for giving me a melting pot that can't make steel, sealing and melting my youth; Thank you for giving me a refrigerator to refrigerate my soul; Thank you for burning the ashes of the mountain and burying my germs in the deep stream! Thank you for giving me silk that I don't understand, and let me make cocoons by the river of years. So I am young-when my poems appear in front of people, they are as fresh as the sour fermented in the sheepskin pocket of Kazakh herders! ..... Ha, I'm a young man! I am young, my Hu Da! Just like my countless young companions-youth lost in the desert, only the jingling camel bells hypnotized me; Youth was exposed to the scorching sun, leaving only an unpalatable dried apricot. The bare forehead may be a mound that has already been filled, an arc-shaped wrinkle, or a parabola drawn casually. So I am young-when we return to spring, you look at me and I look at you, ha ... we all have the characteristics of a generation! As a youth, I have attended numerous youth conferences. To tell the truth, I don't doubt my condition when I was young. Thirty-six years old, MINUS "ten", it's ... no, the group is only over a year old! The author of Scream was older than us. Compared with the young soldiers who never grew old during the Long March, we are just a "group of children"! ..... Ha, I'm a young man! Irony? Then laugh at yourself, bitter bitter-salty. Motherland! Should I feel pain for my child, or should my child feel bitter for you? I often look at innocent children and strangers, and I caress my rosy face. They looked at me strangely and cocked their heads. Like a flock of birds watching dinosaur eggs. They have come a long way, maybe they are heading for youth, but I only have a slightly trembling step inside. ............................................., don't! I want to tell my motherland that the most precious thing in the world is the autonomy of youth! I love, I want to, but I'm not jealous. I cry, I laugh, but I don't complain. I'm ashamed, I'm ashamed, but I don't lament. I'm angry and I hate it, but I won't give up. Since this special era has created a special concept of youth, I will say to the blue sky: I am-youth! I am a young man-my blood vessels will never be blocked by sand; I am a young man-my pupils will never be covered by fog. My bare forehead is a piece of Yuan Ye in early spring, and my wrinkles are the beginning of a great river. I'm not an alcoholic, I don't want to dream during the day; I am not an old woman, sighing for the New Year; I'm not a monkey, and I won't be fooled by gong knockers again; I'm not a turtle. I sleep longer and live longer. I am an eagle-there is ambition in the clouds! I am a horse-with a saddle on my back! I am a bone-there is calcium in the bone! I am Khan-there is salt in sweat! Motherland! Since you put us into the echelon of youth because of too many disabilities, we have youth and middle age-shoulder to shoulder! I ran to you in the early morning by the sea, and the sea pressed my heart tightly on your chest ... Last night, I heard you call me like a loving mother calling for a long-lost child. I woke up to listen to your deep singing, and my heart shaking on the island seemed to sink into the valley. Your tide overflowed my heart and retreated. I stepped down to gather strength and burst into a more intense roar. I got up and tore open the screen window-the night star was still shining in the cold. Wait for me, wait for me. You can't wait for the morning wind to kiss the dew on the betel nut tip just before dawn, but you are unexpectedly quiet and gentle, and you smile. You whisper, you calm everything down, leaving only a touch of sadness. Only I know why the withered oak tree breaks, but I can't say that I am watching your distant sail shadow. Tears welled up in my eyes, and the wind slowly sent your poem away. How can I not cry? Because of my late arrival and the delay in the evening, I can't let go of time at a young age, the distance has broken through, and the storm is coming again. Please don't forget me. When you shock the dreary universe with thunder, I will sing a song on your Feng Tao. No, I am so small. I hope I can become a snow-white bird and be your messenger calling for freedom. Once I see your secret, it will be like a hard rock that has been enchanted for thousands of years. Let your hurricane refine me into your voice, and let your wild waves shape me into your character. I will never hesitate, never shrink back, never tremble in front of the sea. Please remember-I am your loyal daughter. I came to see you early in the morning. The sea tightly sticks my heart to your chest ... The boy lives with his sister. Her parents died young, and she was his only relative. So boys love their sisters more than themselves. However, disaster befalls these two unfortunate children again. My sister is very ill and needs blood transfusion. But the blood in the hospital is too expensive, and the boy has no money to pay any fees. Although the hospital exempted the operation fee, his sister would still die without blood transfusion. As the only relative of my sister, the boy's blood type is the same as my sister's. Ask the boy if he is brave and has the courage to bear the pain when drawing blood. The boy began to hesitate. 10-year-old brain finally nodded after some thinking. When drawing blood, the boy quietly didn't make a sound, just smiled at his sister in the next bed. After drawing blood, the boy asked in a trembling voice, "Doctor, how long can I live?" "The doctor wanted to laugh at the boy's ignorance, but he was shocked: in the brain of the boy 10, he thought that blood transfusion would kill him, but he was still willing to give blood to his sister. At that moment, the boy decided to be brave all his life and make up his mind to die. The doctor's palms are sweating. He held the boy's hand tightly and said, "don't worry, you won't die." Blood transfusion will not lose life. " The boy's eyes lit up: "Really? Then how many years can I live? " The doctor smiled and said lovingly, "You can live to be 100 years old, young man, you are very healthy! ""The boy jumped for joy. After confirming that he was really okay, he rolled up his arm again-the arm that had just been bleeding, raised his head and solemnly said to the doctor, "Then give half my blood to my sister, and each of us will live for 50 years!"