Prose is a literary genre together with poetry, novels, and dramas. Literary genres include essays, essays, travel notes, etc. The following is a selection of beautiful prose that I have compiled, welcome to read for reference! I want to step on flowers and retreat to the mountains and forests
Inscription: Soak in the warm sunshine, look forward to the blooming of flowers, miss the peach blossoms, and enjoy the pear blossoms Like snow, after years and months, there is still a state of mind, like a green radish that is evergreen all year round, like a swallow that is not afraid of wind and rain, leaving a blank space in the rush of every day, and indifferent in the ravines of the years.
"Time flies" and "time flies", it seems that these two words are too old-fashioned, but they describe the appearance of time so appropriately. It has been a long time since I started writing prose again. It has been a long time. , was obsessed with writing modern poetry and prose poems in order to gain a breath, and even changed his pen name to avoid suspicion. He did not use the pen name "Returning from Stepping on Flowers" for two years, but changed it to "Little Stars" , but things change and the stars change, but the cycle of seasons cannot last. In the blink of an eye, spring comes again, and the three black magpies on the branches awaken my past feelings. I want to step on the flowers and retreat to the mountains and forests.
"My longing is unknown to others. , with the emotional color of the past, either love or hate, thick or light, long or short. When you miss someone, you feel that there is some inexplicable trembling deep in your heart, looming, rising and sinking. You want to hold on to them tightly, but they are fleeting. "This sentence that is so amazing to read comes from an article titled "Missing" written by an author named Xu Zhihui. I accidentally read it in the compilation of prefaces of "Reader" over the years, and I couldn't help but think of that That year and those things.
That place with inconvenient transportation, the village called "Da Li Tun", the person who was called "Liangzi" by the elders, the mountains and rivers in that year. Long, the moon of that year was bright and the wind was clear, the end of that year was endless, those sincere touches, those mulberry trees on the streets, those who wanted to say it but couldn't stop, and in this early spring of February, like sprouting beans, in the early morning A clump of bamboo shoots grew vigorously in the slight coolness, opening up the layers of gauze covering it. The colors, both beautiful and chaotic, made people happy and emotional.
The night was long and clear, and when I was bored, I cuddled up with my clothes, and when I was free, I cooked words into wine. Unexpectedly, I fell drunk in the cool palace I built.
"For you, I brought the spring rain and dew.
p>For you, I bring you blooming mountain flowers
Build a hut of love
Build a great wall of love
When the swallows come
Looking forward to your flower-like smile
When the maple leaves are red
Waiting for your water-like tenderness
For you, I will grind a pool of ink
For you, I search all over the world of Ci
Write a forgotten ballad
Compose a poem of everlasting regret
When the peach blossoms bloom
p>Condensing the red color of rouge
Wild geese flying south
Carrying away my lovesickness like spring water
For you, I pick it Come to the clouds in the sky
For you, I pick the fruits from the tree
Weave a warm fleece jacket
Embroider an original intention
When the wind blows
Let my temperature warm your chill
When night comes
Let my care warm your chill< /p>
For you, I guarded a lifetime of loneliness
For you, I guarded an unprecedented loneliness
I was in that courtyard
Full of green plants
I was in that village
and walked all over the green mountains
just to have a date with you"
So , a friend said to me: "Which man can understand and match your lines of poetry?" "
Yes, who can understand these deep feelings? Who can match them? And this thousand years of loneliness is just to change the beauty of looking back. Those who pass by are not scenery, and those who rub shoulders are not fate. , just like the years when I founded a farm in the countryside, why are they not worth cherishing? Although the clouds are no longer the story of the clouds, the wind is not the story of the wind, and the beauty of "Human Face Peach Blossom" does not end with looking at the door that day.
The world is full of ups and downs, but the years are still peaceful. Su Dongpo was demoted to Hangzhou, but he created the beautiful scenery of "Three Pools Reflecting the Moon" in the West Lake. There is an ancient saying that "it is always appropriate to put on light makeup". Ji Xiaolan was sent to Xinjiang, which also gave him a rare experience of the Western Regions, which opened his mind and made his writing smooth. How could he know that the experience of being punished this time was not for him in the future ten years? How many years of compiling "Sikuquanshu" have accumulated perseverance?
I am already over 50 years old, and I am about to retire as soon as I speak, but I am still a lecturer, and I have not found a "professor" "The title of "! Why? Why? There is no need to delve into the reason. I have already been deeply influenced by the "Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove" in the past, and Tao Yuanming's ambition has been deeply rooted in my heart. In this industry, which requires more than articles and monographs to judge professional titles. Years and months, extensive contacts and considerable monetary expenditures are still needed.
I was about to leave my office with the sense of integrity that I would never give up for five buckets of rice.
The only thing I feel ashamed about is that once when a child asked me about my professional title, I was so proud that I lied about being "associate professor"! Yes, the principals are asking the leaders who come to the school When they introduced me, didn't they introduce me in this way? Even my colleagues in the school usually think so. They are probably all like me, and there is always something unspeakable, right?
"Spring comes every year. A few days ago, the second of three was over. The green poplar courtyard was covered with warm wind. There was a haggard man buying flowers and wine in Chang'an City. The east wind was blowing. Tears from the guest. It’s hard to express the longing, and the dream has no basis. The only thing is to return. "Ouyang Xiu’s poem about homesickness reflects my mood at this moment. I don’t dare to say that I am tired of the worldly world, but I am also tired. I want to step out. Flowers, retreat to the mountains and forests.
Soak up the warm sunshine and look forward to the blooming of flowers
Miss the peach blossoms and enjoy the pear blossoms as if they were snow
After all these years, there is still a state of mind< /p>
Like a green radish, evergreen all year round
Like a swallow, not afraid of wind and rain
In the rush of every day, leave a blank space
In the years In the ravines, there is indifference
This is the time of early spring, but it seems to be charming from a distance. This is Bincheng in the north, but it is as comfortable as flowers as light as dreams. Those passing by, those that enter the heart, and those that have been forgotten will gradually bloom on the increasingly soft flower branches, and eventually the garden will be filled with spring scenery that is difficult to describe with a simple pen. Looking at the Sea
After reading Gorky's "Petrel", I had the idea of ????seeing the sea. From school to work, the flame of expectation became more and more intense. It happened that a PEN conference was held in a coastal city, and I was lucky enough to participate. I realized my dream of many years, and I was elated and watched the sea with passion.
After traveling thousands of miles, I came to the seaside and faced the sea with a lot of emotions. The Gold Coast, golden beaches, snow-white waves, the reception team welcomed us with warm singing. Listen to the sound of the waves, feel the tenderness, appreciate the flowers of the waves, and experience fearlessness and boldness, and your passion will be melted.
The sea is vast, vast and profound, full of passionate pride, bursting with youthful vitality, containing infinite vitality, and showing a broad and generous mind. The sea is the cradle of human origin and civilization, containing many epics of vicissitudes. The snow-capped peaks of Everest embrace it, thousands of rivers and streams rush towards it, and the sand and gravel of ancient plateaus follow the beautiful beaches.
The sea water and the blue sky are connected, and the sea and sky merge into one, boundless, and you can't help but feel detached. The scenery is beautiful, dreamlike, and the sea breeze is gentle, comfortable and comfortable. Walking on the beach, bathing in the sea and sunshine, appreciating the vast sea, flying seagulls, and boats far and near in the blue sky, you are suddenly filled with emotions and meaning. I have the grace, charm, high consciousness, attitude towards life and emotional characteristics of the sea in my heart.
The sea is a kind of mind, always extending silence, never reaching the top of the waves; the sea is a kind of Zen, always noble and sacred, always mixing the sweet, sour, bitter, spicy and salty; the sea is a flow In the universe, the stars cannot shine out, and the sun and moon shine in it, watering and nurturing all living things in the world. The sea contains the world's life and death, joy and sorrow, sobriety and sleepiness, blooming and destination, and spits out water-like flowers that bloom in the mesh of the universe.
Sitting on the beach, daydreaming and imagining. Withdrawing your racing eyes and thoughts, you can see that the nearby sea is constantly churning. Wave after wave of sea water rolls into peaks, valleys, and waves. Every time the waves rise and fall, I don’t know whether it is the restlessness of the sea, the meaningless struggle of life, or the tragic rise of nature, but it is always inevitable. Suddenly I realized: life lies in movement.
In a corner of the sea, there are many rocks with sharp edges and corners, and the waves are crashing on the shore. After many years of baptism and tempering, it has become extremely strong and vigorous. Several couples have made an oath of love: They will respect and love each other, stay together forever, never leave, honor their parents, never change their hearts, grow old together, and live happily ever after. There are so many moving emotions in the world! The tourists smiled and cast admiring glances.
The majestic sea is constantly moving, giving it its charm, beaches, rocks, bathing bays, and people admiring it and feeling very satisfied. Reading through the poems about the sea, I seem to see that the sea is a gathering of countless people, forging ahead to form rolling waves, holding their heads straight up unyieldingly, and moving forward down-to-earth. Some people fell to the bottom of the valley, some climbed to the top of the waves, and eventually they were all scattered on the beach. Only when one's heart goes deep into the sea can one gain understanding.
Life is like sailing in the sea. You have to withstand the temper of the wind and waves, the loss of being thrown into the whirlpool, the glory of being pushed to the top of the waves, being unfazed by favors and humiliations, and moving forward bravely.
"The external teacher creates good fortune, and the source of the heart is obtained." Looking at the sea makes me feel that my realm is deepened, my personality is improved, my mind is broad, and my spirit is uplifted. Knowing the sea, I deeply understand that "the strangeness of the meaning is strange, the high meaning is high, the far meaning is far, and the deep meaning is deep." The night is light
On a quiet night, a cold moon hangs faintly on the dark night, glowing with a cold light like water. The gauze-like night cover came up, adding a bit of haziness and melancholy. In such a dark night, the moonlight climbed up, knocked on my lonely window, and fell into a patch of blue frost on the ground.
The night in early autumn is filled with inexplicable thoughts because of an inexplicable feeling, making the deserted night so vivid...
The moonlight is clear, with a touch of Be quiet; play a piece of music to release a shallow romance; the mood is hazy, entangled with deep intoxication. Sitting in the study, holding a cup of warm tea, immersed in the gentle and melodious melody. Slowly going up the ladder of time, touching the hidden corners of the soul with notes, I feel a little lonely. A little bit lonely too. Let your heart dance alone in this noisy world and loneliness. When the city gradually falls asleep, the window of the soul is slowly opened, letting the thoughts drift with the memory, unable to find a place to stay. I'm not afraid of the loneliness and coldness of the night, I'm just afraid of drowning your warm figure in my memory.
In the early autumn night, silence surrounds everything. Everything is quiet and asleep. Only the heart is awake. The silhouettes of longing penetrate the heart; it is the process of retaining memory by the thin calendar.
In the world of mortals, life always moves in different ways, laughing, sad, rejoicing or crying, flowers bloom and fade, spring passes and winter comes; day after day, year after year. Just walking tirelessly in this concrete forest, feeling myself and the things around me; occasionally feeling a little lonely, occasionally feeling a little sad, and these are just painful transformations and sadness in the process of growing up. .
Tonight's moonlight, you are the thoughts that are flying when you are sleepless; you are the sadness hidden in the heart; you are the deep blessings in the heart, allowing the abundant thoughts to indulge in this winter night... I saw disappointment, but also heard hope
The unnamed creek nestled quietly and gracefully on the side of the hill. There was a path next to it that imitated the creek, as if they were one. A couple is taking a walk. It seems that the path is a loyal guardian of the stream, guarding the scorching light during the day and the stars in the sky at night. What a nice trail! If I were that creek, I would be moved to tears, oh! No, it was tears filling my eyes. I am not a hot spring. I think that my passionate stream loves hills, loves small trees, loves bees and butterflies, and finally loves that unknown path.
I am that stream, it must be!
It’s winter now, and heavy frost will fall for no reason at night. How cold it is! Evenings without sunshine are lonely. Even if the path silently accompanies me, I am still lonely. After all, the path refuses to talk. Only the gentle wind and the bees and butterflies flapping their wings will give me infinite inspiration, and I will write poems one after another. Now there is no poetry and no water! Where is my water? It's all dried up, and a ditch above it refused to feed me two weeks ago, for whatever reason. My water comes directly from the ditch above, so I cut off the flow and lost this lovely source of life. I really want to turn over my slender body and stick my head into the air like a cobra to overlook the ditch above. Has the water above really dried up? Or is it being very stingy in hiding the water and not giving any to me? I couldn't turn around, so I could only shake my head lazily. Without water, I have nothing. At most, I'm a little dirty. I don't wash my face or brush my teeth for a few days. It's nothing. If anything, my pure heart will be deeply hurt. I am not hurting myself, but the piles of tadpole eggs lying in my arms. These tadpole eggs dried up in my arms before they had time to hatch. How I wish I could produce some water to feed the tadpole eggs like milk and give them some hope of survival. Unfortunately, I have no milk. My heart is crying silently, invisible tears. Is there really no water in the ditch above?
I still remember that a week ago, a young female toad chose my arms and resolutely gave birth to all her babies next to me. Before leaving, she cooed a few times: " Aunt Xiaoxi, I leave my baby to you. "Of course, there is a handsome male toad accompanying the female toad. They are in pairs and are going on their honeymoon. What a wonderful couple. Wish them happiness forever. I have many blessings in my heart but I can't say them out. I can only say a faint sentence: "You can go and have a romantic time with peace of mind. Just leave everything to me here."
They gave a beautiful cry and disappeared. At the end of the road. I used the little water I had to stroke these lovely eggs, which were round like pearls and squeezed together. They were not awake yet! They were more like small jelly pieces, so soft that they seemed to break if I applied force. There are some very small black particles in the soft cyst, I think that is their central nervous system! It won't be long before they can grow up, shed their jelly and fly freely in my water. Thinking of this, my heart gets excited, as if I am their mother. Haha... I am so easily satisfied.
The next day, several pairs of toads came one after another. They chose me, released the crystallization of love into my soft water, and turned around to go on their honeymoon. I am their free nanny, of course I am willing, very willing. I have been so willing to live the last year, the year before that, and more. Taking care of these lovely elves is my happiness. Without these elves, how much joy would be lost in my life! I need their happiness to fill my life, just like a rainbow needs colorful colors to fill it.
However, these happy elves were stranded in my arms before they could be born. I don't have water, so I can't create the conditions for their birth. I can only hope that the sky will rain soon, the possibility of winter rain is very small. I still looked up at the sky with hope. The stars in the sky were blinking happily and chatting with each other in some alien language that I couldn't understand. There were a few thin clouds beside them, so thin that I could see them. The skin of the sky. It is impossible for such gauzy clouds to hide water. I'm disappointed. But I still hope. I hope that a big black cloud will suddenly blow over from the sky. It just happened to hang over me, and it also happened to drop a lot of raindrops into my arms. It's a pity that my waiting is passing by minute by second, cooling down to freezing point. There are also many ice flowers growing on the forehead of Xiaolu, which look so pale in the quiet moonlight.
The jelly-like eggs are squeezed together desperately, and a lot of water overflows from them. Their unbreakable jelly packages are bursting. How can they resist the cold attack? They can only resist the hellish cold by hugging each other. I heard, I heard their crying, the wailing, the buzzing, the cold crying, they need water so much, water is a protective film and the source of life. My heart was cut like a knife. I touched them with my dry hands, but they didn't feel warm at all, but felt even more uncomfortable. What a long night! You go quickly! Stop making ice flowers! I prayed and prayed. The hourglass of time seems to be frozen, and I can't move forward. I heard it, heard the sound of the egg cracking, and some of the jelly on the periphery lost its life color and fell into coma. My heart hurts even more.
I don’t know when it will be dawn. The rising sun popped up on the backbone of the mountain, conveying the first ray of warmth and staring at us affectionately. We felt it, felt a little bit of hope. I found in the sunshine that those lovely babies were no longer beautiful, their souls drooped listlessly, and the babies around them had lost their lives. They use their remaining limbs to embrace the life inside. What a great embrace! The baby inside was able to survive temporarily. These survivals are measured in seconds. I wonder how many seconds they can survive? I can't calculate it, so the word "boil" is more appropriate! well! What a pitiful toad egg, I can't protect you!
That ditch above! Didn't you see it? Are you just a stone-hearted ditch? As long as you leave a gap in the water, these cute babies will survive. The wind was blowing gently and the water in the ditch was not transmitted down. I thought there was no hope for me.
In the afternoon, the sunshine became more intense, and the combined formation of the jelly babies collapsed, and they were all scattered in my dry cracks. Their moisture was lost little by little, and they all gradually fell into a coma. , their hands are still holding each other tightly, although their eyes are closing quietly. It seems that he is silently reciting the names of his parents, seems to be kissing my hands, and seems to be chanting the songs of life: the distant mountain ridges are accompanied by tits, they have green leaves decorating their clothes, and their water splash is so white, forever. There is poetry and laughter. Our parents are singing in the water...
I heard it too, the tears are drying!
I touched my face with my hand, and felt a little cold trembling. Ignore it, it is an illusion, I am indifferent to it. The moist water floats like poetry, faster than the wind and in time. My arms are full of water. Where does the water come from? How come I don't know? I tried my best to look at the ditch above. There was a big gaping hole, where the water came from. I saw the water of life and heard life trembling upstream.
A father and son on the side of the road were staring at me. To be precise, they were staring at the jelly baby in my arms. Their smiles are so bright and kind. One of the words floated in the wind: Dad, these tadpoles can be saved. Yes, the water in the ditch above is their life-saving water. Then another word came, and it was the father's voice: My child, your kindness saved them.
My heart is trembling and I have the urge to sing. What should I sing?
The jelly baby sang in my arms: The distant mountain ridges are accompanied by tits, they have green leaves decorating their clothes, their water splashes are so white, and there is always poetry and laughter.
Our parents are singing in the water...