Middle school children's poetry reading

Ke Yan, the author of Whispering, has two small white flowers on the roadside. It's white and bright with dew on it. Ah, beautiful little white flowers. Let's run together! Run and take it off and put it in the teacher's vase, but don't tell him. Ah-did you hear that? Did you hear that? Flowers dedicated to teachers happily ushered in the festival. They went to the wild to pick flowers, and the flowers decorated the green fields-what a beautiful picture of spring! Suddenly, they remembered their teacher. At this time, she sat alone under the window ...-She dyed her hair hard and never had leisure on holidays. Doesn't the teacher love flowers? She deserves a bunch of the most beautiful flowers, together with a sincere heart, please accept her dear teacher! Gently walked to the teacher's window. She was correcting her exercise book. Blue handwriting is like a green field, and red comment on writing is like clusters of flowers ... Ah! A picture scroll more beautiful than the field is displayed under the teacher's window: bright flowers overflow fragrance, dazzling colors radiate brilliance ... Perhaps there is no need to offer flowers in your hands, and the children's wishes have already been expressed. What beautiful flowers of the motherland take root and blossom in the teacher's heart ... Praise the teacher's poem 1: Four spring rains prepare for a rainy day, and several autumn rains wash the gap. Black hair and frost weave the sun and the moon, and chalk writes the spring and autumn without words. Before the spring is old, the silk spits, and the candle tears turn into gray and autumn is thicker. Peach and plum are sown in three thousand gardens in spring, and Qiu Lai is rich in China fruits. Praise for the teacher's poem 2: I love the teacher like a red candle, which ignites the fire in the students' hearts, but burns itself until the red candle turns to ashes. Teachers, like gardeners, feed our flowers, but work hard for themselves until their physical strength is exhausted. We must become the pillars of the country when we grow up! The teacher is so selfless! Ah! Teacher, we love you! Praise the teacher's poem 3:-Teacher, who is hard-lead us into the spacious classroom and teach us a wealth of knowledge? It is you! Teacher! With your hard sweat, you have nurtured the tender seedlings that have just broken ground in spring. Who is it-educating naughty people into people who can help others? It is you! Teacher! Your care is like a warm spring breeze, which warms our hearts. Who is it-to train young people into mature and sensible teenagers? It is you! Teacher! Your protection makes us grow up healthily. The autumn season is fruitful. You have worked hard! Teacher! People who work hard in the heat and cold. You have worked hard! Teacher! Dedicate youth to nothingness. We pay high tribute to you! -You have worked hard, teacher! I can only help you here, old teacher-you are like a drizzle in spring, nourishing flowers and irrigating the earth, and we are also trying to suck the drizzle and grow. Teacher-you are like an autumn breeze, blowing the yellow land and calling for rice. We have a bumper harvest. Teacher-in my dark life, you lit the brightest lamp for me; Teacher-you are the guide on my misty life; Teacher-you pointed out the direction for me in my rough life; Teacher-you gave me a pair of powerful wings, let me travel in the world of knowledge! In spring, you come in this way, using your unique temperature and humidity to open your skin's sense of smell and touch, using your transparent warm current to wake up the early singing of night birds, and the sun begins to call for grass buds that break through the ground. The faint snow shadow on the north slope melts far away, and the last touch is used to stir up the sting in your heart for a long time. You release the condensed hope in your eyes with an undisguised smile. Listen carefully to your inner peace, sing the words of pregnancy directly and gently from the corner, and fill your clear mood. Reading the poems written for March with your eyes again and again this morning, can you stay on every tree in front of the window for a long time and make a brand-new budding date? It won't be long before the Spring Festival on the other side of the mountain will bloom, and later, the weeping willows by the river will be dyed like clouds.