Chapter one: A poem praising a mother's love: A Mother's Love Like Water.
Your greatness has condensed my flesh and blood.
Your greatness has shaped my soul.
Your life is a journey of love.
You use beautiful annual rings,
Weave a calendar with fragrant ink,
Every year, I spend it in your affection.
Every year, I play on your shoulders and knees.
Mother is the earth and I am the grass.
Mom is a green leaf, and I am a flower.
Mom is a tree and I am a leaf.
Mother is the sun and I am the moon.
Mom is the sea, and I am a small fish.
Mother is wax oil and I am a candle.
Mother is an eternal bonfire, illuminating my home.
Early in the morning, I just got up and saw the familiar back.
Mom is so hardworking?
Mother is an eternal bonfire, illuminating my way forward.
In the evening, you took pains to teach me the mistakes of the day.
Mom is so serious?
It is you who taught me how to be a man in the most beautiful language of women.
When you are sad, you are a comfort.
When you are depressed, you are hope.
When you are weak, you are strength.
When the storm comes, you are a shelter from the wind.
You raised me,
You have broadened my horizons,
You will always be my best friend,
You are the driving force of my life,
You immerse me in your joy,
You let me enjoy your warmth.
You make me intoxicated in your arms,
You let me snuggle in your arms?
Chapter two: Poetry reading and praising maternal love. I have to go, mom.
When I left,
With tears
No turning back
Dare not look back.
I know that casual looking back
Will make your casual eyes
A bitter smile will keep me.
I know
There must be a smile on your face.
But your heart is crying, mom.
I know in my heart.
You just said: Go ahead, son.
Mother will wait for you when the tired child comes back.
I'm leaving, mom.
When I left,
With tears
Dare not look back.
When I turned the maple grove in front of the door,
You can't see me.
When the wet tears of Fenglin flow from my heart.
You can't see me.
It's just, mom
I can't hold it any longer, and my tears are as hard to stop as a thread.
I turned around, mom.
I dare to turn back.
I'd better turn around.
Although tears can't see loess
But I know
Mom, you still hold the door and watch your son.
For a long time, I don't want to look back.
How many times have I cried and cried in my dreams?
Mom, I want to go home.
How many times have I seen it in my dream, mom?
You gently use your warm hands
Touch my crying wound
Oiy mom
I know, you are always behind me.
With an encouraging expression
There is hope in her eyes.
With a waiting smile?
I know, mom.
You've been standing behind me.
Every midnight dream.
There is always a voice: go, son.
Mother will wait for you when the tired child comes back.
Chapter 3: A poem praising maternal love. Mother, can you use a dead tree skin in your hand?
Brush off the frost that has turned gray on your temples? I know
The bow of the red ribbon bleached the black hair in my memory.
Long time no see. Mother, as if nothing had happened.
Or wriggle a loose tooth gently?
It's neither too tight nor too slow. Laugh in tears
Sing some songs that are still fresh in my childhood.
Memory is the snake of missing. Draw a word
Winding forward, my bitter ink in this life.
Mom, are you still willing to use this cracked tongue core?
Lick my arrogant poison. I am in front of you.
Always a child who doesn't grow up.
So there is a vague topic called maternal love.
It is undoubtedly the stupidest injury to a wanderer.
Mom, you are old. You used to be as famous as chrysanthemums.
The edge of the white porcelain bottle has your residual medicine fragrance.
Plain silk was very popular in the old days. manage
Brushed the heart of love, but still
I can't hide your crazy concern.
The autumn wind has started. Even in the shadow of loneliness, mom
Don't catch cold either. No matter when and where
Sunset depends on a crutch called a child.
And you, on fertile soil.
Seeds covered with vegetation are sprouting and growing.
And I, at the moment. I just want to hear your call.
My real name. In a trance, mother
I seem to be back in the yard, next to the well where I drew water as a child.
Chapter 4: Poetry Reading Praise Motherly Love Your silvery white hair, crooked body and lonely figure.
You are old.
You associate with neighboring villages.
At the age of 80, he still draws water and cooks himself.
You are still attached to my childhood home.
Hometown of dreams
You have raised our four children all your life.
Four children are the pride of your life.
The pigeons you let go are the concern of your life.
Hope for survival
Every time I mention this to someone,
Zhang Shanliang's face is always full of smiles.
mother
I have been through a lot.
A long-suffering mother
How can a blunt pen write thousands of words?
I'm in love.
Praise mother.
Mother is a big ship.
Take me to the seaside.
Pursuing the mystery of life
Explore the magic of the world
Mother is a high mountain.
All inclusive
Hey, I grow up.
Strengthen my body and mind
Mother is a touching song.
Show me around.
With her beautiful tune
Singing the history of the motherland
Mother is a spring breeze person.
Blow away everything in the world
Yingying's footsteps
Brought great vitality.
Mother is a spring rain.
Moisturize everything on the earth.
Ah! mother
I love you and you will always be my favorite.