Miss each other
Mother sleeps in the ancient mountains,
Ziluo Yang Yue field
Looking at each other thousands of miles away,
There are always tears.
Miss my mother
Thorn man is far from home,
Farewell to Mother Line has been in five issues.
Pushan Mountain in Huai 'an is empty.
Baling sounds sad.
The west wind turns into sadness,
Blood rain and ice heart fly with tears.
Kneel down and kowtow three times today.
Even spring grass is sad.
Qingming Festival
People are in Qingming's hometown,
Baling Xiangshui is * * * sad.
God shed tears in the jade pool,
Into Wan Li rain.
Xijiang month
The wind sends gold and silver to practice, and the clouds ride cranes.
During the Qingming Festival, the sky opens and the rain overflows the court.
A wanderer is heartbroken and lovesick.
However, I will drink wine on the balcony and worship my mother in the north.
Miss my mother
Night rain, xiaoxiang lights faint,
During his stay in Tomb-Sweeping Day,
Thousands of miles away,
There is no one in Gaotang in tears.
Nanshan mother memorial hall
The autumn rain lasted nearly half a month.
Four cities and eight towns were flooded.
It is difficult for people to migrate from the south,
In the north, poets frown.
I went to Nanshan to mix wine,
Zhu Ming's solitary burial is called Niang.
The wind crow knows the consent, sad.
I have always hated it.
2. Poems in memory of mother 1, poems in memory of dead mother are dim. You laugh on the wall. I feel very painful in my heart. I have yellow photos. I smile with a loving face, like a gentle drop of water. A tear fell on the fence. There are two lines of notes. A mother, a tree, dancing in the wind, leaves, dust, soil, a blooming flower. Time is ruthless, and my mother sleeps underground. I am bright in this world. 2. Acacia mother sleeps in Gu Shan,
Thousands of miles away, there are always tears. 3, Xijiang Yue Feng sent a golden flag and silver training, and the cloud took the crane god.
During the Qingming Festival, the sky opens and the rain overflows the court. A wanderer is heartbroken and lovesick.
However, I will drink wine on the balcony and worship my mother in the north. 4. I miss my mother's stabbing in a foreign land, and it has been five times since I bid farewell to her.
On Huai River, Pushan Mountain is empty, and Baling makes the water sad. The west wind turns to sorrow, and blood and rain fly with tears.
Today, I knelt down and kowtowed three times, and even Chuncao was sad. The autumn rain in Nanshan, where the mother was sacrificed, lasted for nearly half a month, and the water in four cities and eight towns turned into floods.
It is difficult to move south to the north, but northern poets don't frown. I went to Nanshan to mix wine, and Zhu Ming asked Niang to go to the lonely grave.
The wind crow knows the meaning and shares the same sorrow, and hates the sky and the intestines. 6. I miss my mother's rainy night, the xiaoxiang lamp is faint, and the Qingming smells gēng.
A thousand miles away from home hurts the soul, and a person with tears is less likely to pay homage. 7. I miss my mother's frost, reed flowers and tears, and I am bald and helpless.
Last May, Huang Meiyu Zeng Dian returned to his hometown as a cassock. .
A virtuous mother had a rough life and recalled the past with tears in her eyes.
Paying a few meters to support the family and raising children is hard. I am struggling to live in poverty, and I am trying to travel alone.
Eighty years and six years later, he went to the immortals and set up a monument to set a good example. The second element flies to the fairy palace, where can I peek at my mother's smile
Four virtues strictly follow the example, three virtues follow the example, and celebrate the heritage. Pearl always looks like a twin, but she is filial and loyal to Dean.
If he can serve again in the next life, he will share joys and sorrows for his mother and son. Chapter two: The night of mourning for mother is deep, and the full moon is in the sky, but it is not round.
There is a person who will always occupy the warmest place in your heart. She has given you a colorful world, and she is willing to love you all her life. She lets you take it and enjoy it at will, but she doesn't want anything in return.
When you succeed, everyone is a friend. But only she is our partner when we fail, sheltering you from the wind and rain.
This kind of love is maternal love, and this person is called mother. First, the lights are as red as beans, the moon is as bright as washing, and the night is long and people are sleepy.
The figure sewn by my mother flickered under the lamp, and my mother's cry calling my birth name echoed in my ears. Like an old story in my mother's mouth, it carries my thoughts and opens dusty memories.
The hot summer day finally arrived, and the cattail leaf fan in my mother's hand shook with the cool breeze. XX is very cold, but the palm of my mother's hand caressing my shoulder is as warm as ever.
Seeing the world is cold, my mother's kind and gentle smile is even more precious. I feel hot and cold, and my mother's gentle words make my heart surge.
Great maternal love makes me as happy as the spring breeze, as warm as the morning shower, as sweet as drinking nectar.
4. Dean's mother's poem "Acacia" Author: Mother sleeps in the ancient rest mountain, and her son falls in Yueyang field.
Thousands of miles away, there are always tears. Moving to the countryside Author: Yuan Jinfeng Jinqiu is 68 years old and will move again on the eighth day of August.
All the utensils are still in use and have not been added, although the socks and shoes are broken. Welcome your neighbors, rest and welcome them. The sea is not the sea.
What did you do after you moved to the countryside? You dug your own pond to entertain fish and shrimp. Xijiang Yuefeng issued a golden flag and silver training, and the cloud rode the crane god.
During the Qingming Festival, the sky opens and the rain overflows the court. A wanderer is heartbroken and lovesick.
However, I will drink wine on the balcony and worship my mother in the north. The autumn rain in Nanshan offered sacrifices to mother for nearly half a month, and water flooded in four cities and eight towns.
It is difficult to move south to the north, but northern poets don't frown. I went to Nanshan to mix wine, and Zhu Ming asked Niang to go to the lonely grave.
The wind crow knows the meaning and shares the same sorrow, and hates the sky and the intestines.
When I entered the rainy season, my mother just passed by. I gave my mother half of the umbrella for the children to keep out the wind and rain, and my mother pushed it to me. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella. Rain is no longer rain, but a happy and tearful day given by God to the world, just like walking on a stormy road with my mother at the front. I gave my mother some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain, and my mother pushed them to me. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella. Rain is no longer rain, but a tear of happiness that God sent to the world. Dear mom, I love you. I will always be your child. I will always need the touch of your palm. Dear mother, I love you as deeply as a stream loves a mountain. I hug you warmly and cherish the warmth of spring. I am a wild goose flying south, with creamy tenderness. I love you. My dear mother, I love you. The smell of mountains, air and water are all in youth. You carefully designed every second of my life for me. On many bright red days, I wrote poems on your wrinkled forehead with the poems and enthusiasm of my stream. Pick a bunch of the brightest roses and pin all my dear words on my mother. My mother said I was stupid. Roses are flowers that symbolize love. No, this is a flower from my child to my mother, too. Unfortunately, I haven't heard my mother tell jokes about my childhood for a long time. I fell asleep after listening to those paragraphs. My mother said, silly child, what my mother wants to say to her children will never be finished. So, I gave her a * * * encouragement from 1. Mother's life in a storm is like walking on the road, with her mother walking in the front. Let some umbrellas shelter her children from the wind and rain. Mom pushed it to me again. Ah, the child under the umbrella, the mother outside the umbrella, rain is no longer rain, but a drop of happy tears sent by God to the world. 2. Mother, the industrious body can leave, but people will not leave, just as we will not forget our ancestors and our mothers. Mother is the quilt on our body, and we will feel cold without her. Mother is the salt in the dish. Without her, life would be dull. My mother must have her pain. The pain of wandering often hangs on her face and mixes with the smiles of her children. 3. Great maternal love, picking a bunch of the brightest roses, and pinning all my dear words on my mother. My mother said I was stupid. Roses are flowers that symbolize love, no, they are also flowers that children want to give her. It's a pity that I haven't heard the jokes my mother told me when I was a child for a long time. Listen to what you fell asleep before. My mother said, silly child, what my mother wants to say to the child will never be finished. Even if I sleep in the grave, you will always be my concern (end). The wanderer sings the middle line of Meng Jiao's loving mother's hand, and the wanderer puts on his clothes.
I'm afraid I'll be late when I leave. An inch of grass speaks, three wisps of spring.
Mother "-"my kind and thin old mother, I don't call "mother" in the cold. I have taken off my winter clothes and slept naked in your arms. Every tear was cut and stitched, which made me soak a red candle from my eyes. In the storm, I will let a life bloom in the flame and pray silently for my flesh and blood life. Can you hear my crying from ancient times to the present? Dry nest is a simple bag, so much milk soaked in rain and dew. My morning is full, and I'm on my way. I walk beside you like a bunch of sacrificial flowers. (2) A mother who lives on water, and a mother who uses milk as water. Rivers grow on your hands, and I purify my mind. My blind eyes spit out flames, paddled and shook the sun, rolled steel in my dreams, and made a pair of pearls, as bright as stars, always watching me and casting a blue bridge. From then on, my spine arched into a soul-rainbow water stood and then lay down to sing. Cut the wound of the day and leave blood. A poet who writes with milk has no specific destination. He sat on the cloud and sang songs for his mother all night. Maternal love is a huge flame-romain rolland's maternal love is the greatest power in the world-the mill woman is fragile, but the mother is strong-France is in the child's mouth and heart, and the mother is God-all the glory and pride of the British world comes from the mother-Gorky's mother, where you are, is the happiest place-and there is a most beautiful voice in the British world. That's the mother's call-Dante's loving mother's arm is made of love. How can a child not sleep in it? (Hugo) What a strong, selfish and fanatical maternal love occupies our whole heart-when Duncan succeeds, everyone is a friend.
But only the mother-she is the partner when she fails-Zheng Zhenduo's heart will be a desert, without the help of selfless and self-sacrificing maternal love-British maternal love is the most beautiful among human emotions, because this emotion is not mixed with luck-one of the most beautiful things in French life is maternal love, which is selfless love and dwarfed by morality-the mother in Japanese memory! Dearest lover, you are all my joy and friendship-everything else in the French-speaking world is false and empty, but only mother is real, eternal and immortal-the sweetest word that Indian lips can say is mother, and the best call is "mother"-all the glory and pride in the Ji Bolun world come from mother. (Gorky) Motherly love is a great flame.
(romain rolland) There is a most beautiful voice in the world, and that is the call of mother (Dante) Mom, where you are, there is the happiest place (England). A loving mother's arm is made of love. How can a child sleep in it without sweetness? (Hugo) The sweetest word a person's lips can utter is mother, and the best call is "mother" (Ji Bolun) Motherly love is the greatest power in the world (Mill) Everything else in the world is fake and empty, and only mother is real, eternal and immortal. (India) How intense, selfish and fanatical maternal love is, occupying the feelings of our whole soul.
(Duncan) In a child's mouth and heart, the mother is God. (British) How similar mothers all over the world are! Their hearts are always the same.
Every mother has a very pure heart. (Whitman) Women are fragile, but mothers are strong (France). Without the help of selfless maternal love, the child's mind will be a desert.
(English): The calf has a deep affection, and Meng Mu has moved three times, and her mother's love is like a mountain.
6. I think of my mother's poems, miss my mother's brothers and sisters, and my mother and son are separated in tears.
Late at night, the moonlight is cold, and it is even more regrettable to remember the past and caress the present. The wind shook the tree, and the shadows danced, as if it were a new relationship with the mother.
Burning incense and crying, kneeling to send grief, kindness, peace and relief. The poem of offering sacrifices to mother (the eldest son is just born, and the second daughter bows her head and cries) drives the crane away with love and hurts the spring, and the tears are more bitter when the festival is near Qingming; In spring, there is a platform to bury jade bone, and there is no plan to awaken the fragrant soul; The world has been hanging for thousands of years, and the last words in the ear last forever; Regret not to repay, heartbroken tears are deeper than night.
The eldest son cried recently, the bad news surprised the rain and the cold wind came, and the tears of blood and snow comforted his mother's soul. Before the spirit, I swallowed my own voice, felt ashamed like a child, and looked for it in my dream.
At midnight, the residual temperature of the snow is approaching, and I mourn for my mother. Lightning protection and rain protection temple is the protector, such as where to find kindness in the sea.
(Poem of Crying for Mother: Two eldest sons cry for mother) Er Yun and her sister's flowers bloom in Lan Huifang, Yaochi, and they have let go of their kindness to the fairy. Xianmei's tears will stop, and Sanqixiang is safe with her mother.
My silly brother recently answered my sister's "shame". My sister felt even more ashamed of me, and every word was covered with tears. Grief pursues dreams from beginning to end, and gratitude is gratifying.
Brother Yu was shocked that it snowed again in March, and he was so high that he sacrificed his mother's soul. I couldn't bear to look back. I called Chihiro and shed tears.
(Crying for Mother Poem: Two Women Crying for Mother) Su Lian worships her ancestors. The wind blows rain to send snow, and the wind takes the rain away, leaving two or three points of snow. After the snow, the sunrise caresses the hometown, and pedestrians are even more sad.
Although people go, they love each other, thousands of miles apart, and wish they could never meet again. The Sri Lankan people have driven the yellow crane, and the crane flies in the clouds, and future generations look to the west.
7. What poems are there to commemorate mother? 1. "Tomb-Sweeping Day's ancestor worship" Huang Tingjian (Song) was raining and clear, and the grass in the wilderness was not green.
Under the ashes grave, the candle is fragrant and the wine is in the wind. Yao Si's loving mother is lofty in spring and gazes at the inscription with tears in her eyes.
Who is lonely and who is troubled? But watching kites fly in the sky. 2, "Tomb-Sweeping Day" Wang Yucheng (Song) hometown traveled for several years, no weeds sacrifice.
Philip Burkart read it again to prevent the drizzle. Looking at the mountains in the north, I bowed devoutly and my father naturalized in the west.
Where the black butterfly flies, there is a faint sound of training in the sky. 3, "The Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival" (Tang Dynasty) Qingming Festival has caused rain, and spring red is half grass deep.
Homeless wanderers return to their homeland to sweep graves and burn paper as a sign of filial piety. Tears streamed down her face, her loved ones died young, and she abandoned her son to live alone in the world of mortals.
What about Jiuquan's parents? Who accompanies a lonely grave in the barren hills? The paradise on earth has long gone, and the willow line is hanging in the spring breeze. The solar terms are near Qingming, and those who pity tears are full of sorrow.
4. "Qingming Rain" once said that there are tears in the hidden stars of the moon, and the tea is cold and the wine is silent. The sound of rain knocking on the window lattice is tight, and my heart is bitter.
5. Zhu Dunru (Song Dynasty) in "Shooting Mulberry Festival" is just near Tomb-Sweeping Day, offering sacrifices to his ancestors and expressing his heartfelt wishes. Tears shed clean, Cangshan is also sad and unforgettable.
Endure to see the paper and silk have burned out, speechless and sad, and send the spirit to the distance. If you think of your parents, it is difficult to report your feelings. Kneel first.
8. What poems are there to commemorate mother? Five poems in memory of mother.
Author: Jing Xian, a native of Luding, Sichuan.
1, in memory of mother
Today, the wind in Bagh is very cold.
The grass on both sides of the road trembled.
I saw a long, long road climbing up my forehead.
Stone, burr, steel bar, cement.
Abnormal rigid contour
There is nowhere to hide the outline.
From zero to twenty degrees
The milk is going to boil.
Are you thirsty? Hungry?
Mom, my wheel is stuck in your wrinkle.
Get deeper and deeper, get deeper and deeper
I can't hear your voice.
Mom, the cold wind tore my eardrum.
The vast world is covered with ice.
Ice, tears like flowers.
Hanging upside down on my heart
The last moan came from a distance.
Mom, I want to hold you in my arms.
Watching you open the baby's eyes
Watching you grow up.
The road to silence!
Please give me some songs.
The atonal melody is also good.
For my mother.
Cut out a new dress.
Pass the bowl, fill the soup, mount the horse, and travel far.
Looking for new life in the distance
Today, the wind in Bagh is very cold.
Mother and daughter heard your voice.
on the way home
Step 2 think back
The blue sky broke its wings.
Hurt the eagle last night
A tear fell on the tip of the grass.
Light butter lamps late at night
I'm on the edge of a cliff.
struggle for existence
A weeping life
A hotbed of fate
Bury my deepest love
201June 5.
that night
I lost my wings.
Lost forever
Step 3: Pray.
The prayer of the soul
Dadu River tells the story enthusiastically.
The story of the source
I prayed in the quiet mani pile on the snowy mountain.
For the cause of the afterlife, I am looking for the fate of this life.
At the foot of the snowy mountain
I put the truest prayers and thoughts.
toss in the air
Let the cold wind blow the prayer flags.
Tell her the dearest mother in my life.
I put everything down.
Sit quietly and meditate.
I just want to meet you again in heaven.
Turn all the warp beams.
But I can't find your data.
Light thousands of butter lamps for you.
Jump in the red wick
I saw your kind smiling face.
Throw away the paper flowers I miss for you
Spread the road to heaven with the wind
White pagoda at dusk
Show me the way of life
You are in the afterlife.
Think of your bitter love.
I knocked 108 in front of the Buddha.
Sandalwood beads spin round and round.
May the Buddha let me meet you again in the pure land.
I miss my mother.
The colorful road to falling English
Climb into orbit
Embrace frankincense
-Giving birth in a dream
At this point, who can lengthen the smoke?
Let the wind stop
Let your figure set foot on this road.
remeasure
If you have gone far.
I will definitely scream.
5. Tomb-Sweeping Day for mother
June 20 15, summer 14.
It's dark at night, only a white suit can be seen.
The tree in my heart
It landed on a 72-square-meter building
Since then, home has become my hometown.
Hold you in my hand when I miss you.
Just like when you were holding it.
Hello, it's just a piece of paper.
You are too heavy, and I feel pity.
Follow the country road to the end.
That's where you belong.
The lively firecrackers knocked on my door.
Inform you
Light a stick of incense
Tell my story
Stacks of yellow paper.
Send a long-lost greeting in the fire
Mix flowers and fruits.
Put it neatly in front of the monument
Bend down and walk silently.
Weeds have been cleared before and after the grave.
rise
A pair of eyes looking for your eyes.
kowtow
Pray that we can meet on the other side of the pure land in the afterlife.