Plain childhood life, but wrote unforgettable poems;
2. When I was a child, I loved to eat Osmanthus Jelly made by my grandmother. The warm wind in August blew into the farm yard and awakened the small osmanthus tree.
Grandma picked up the bamboo pole and beat the branches. After tapping lightly, she scattered the white flowers all over the floor, then washed them repeatedly with clear water and put them in the oil pan to stir fry.
3. The golden cake is covered with white flowers, and with a little green shoots, you don't have to eat it, just watch and enjoy it. Take a gentle bite, full of fragrance, fresh and penetrating teeth. Grandma looked at me with a coquettish smile;
The memory of childhood is gradually forgotten. I haven't smelled the long fragrance of flowers for a long time, and I haven't seen the busy grandmother for a long time.
Recently, in the face of the increasingly shortened countdown to the senior high school entrance examination, grandma came from the countryside to take care of me and took me to the morning market.
Grandma's back bends forward like a camel, but the heavy cotton-padded coat does not affect her steady pace at all. Unconsciously, I have been left far behind.
The sky is still blue in early winter, but the cold has spread to the whole city. Even if the sun shines, the sky is dry and cold. A cold wind came. Although I had wrapped myself up, I still couldn't resist the cold of the raid, and the cold spread along my neck.
There are poems in the plains. 1. If time is a solidified poem, your meeting with me is the most beautiful petal, carrying a plain poem and overflowing with fragrance ... I wrote an unforgettable poem in my plain childhood; 2. When I was a child, I loved to eat Osmanthus Jelly made by my grandmother.
The warm wind in August blew into the farm yard and awakened the small osmanthus tree.
Grandma picked up the bamboo pole and beat the branches. After tapping lightly, she scattered the white flowers all over the floor, then washed them repeatedly with clear water and put them in the oil pan to stir fry. 3. The golden cake is covered with white flowers, and with a little green shoots, you don't have to eat it, just watch and enjoy it.
Take a gentle bite, full of fragrance, fresh and penetrating teeth.
Grandma looked at me with a coquettish smile; The memory of childhood is gradually forgotten. I haven't smelled the long fragrance of flowers for a long time, and I haven't seen the busy grandmother for a long time.
Recently, in the face of the increasingly shortened countdown to the senior high school entrance examination, grandma came from the countryside to take care of me and took me to the morning market.
Grandma's back bends forward like a camel, but the heavy cotton-padded coat does not affect her steady pace at all. Unconsciously, I have been left far behind. The sky is still blue in early winter, but the cold has spread to the whole city. Even if the sun shines, the sky is dry and cold.
A cold wind came. Although I had wrapped myself up, I still couldn't resist the cold of the raid, and the cold spread along my neck.
The composition "Poetry in Plain" is required to be about 600 words. Plain is true.
-Inscription "I left quietly, just as I came quietly, waving my sleeves and not taking away a cloud.
"Xu Zhimo's Farewell to Cambridge is dull and makes people daydream.
Life is like a blank sheet of paper, plain and light. It became a unique sunflower under Van Gogh's pen, but the most beautiful Mona Lisa was painted under Da Vinci's pen.
Everyone's life is different, so the color on each piece of paper is different. Whether to make a shocking work or a mediocre work depends on our own choice.
Life is like a cup of boiled water, colorless and tasteless, which can be seen everywhere.
But this boiled water has become an indispensable part of production and life.
"Building a house should be people-oriented, without horses and chariots.
What can you do? The heart is far from being self-centered.
"The life that Tao Yuanming left to Li Lu was dull, but it was this dullness that made his dream come true and gave him a stage to display his talents.
Dull, but also a kind of enjoyment.
After studying and working, holding a book of poems and drinking a cup of tea is bland, but comfortable and true.
Some people are eager to make a splash in the industry.
And some people just do their jobs and live a dull life.
This is not decadence, but an understanding of plain taste and life.
People who live a plain life are happy. They need not worry about tomorrow's troubles. They are content with the status quo. They are neither arrogant nor impetuous, nor sad or happy.
Even if it's just a small compliment, they can feel happy.
Those who are self-motivated and strive for tomorrow may not be very happy, because they are too tired of their own efforts and have no time to taste life.
And when the goal is not achieved, it will be very lost.
Is it really good to live without joy and only stress? Plain is true!
How to write a composition "Poetry in a Plain Life" If all the years are solidified poems, the meeting between you and me is the most beautiful petal, bearing the plain poems, and the fragrance overflows into the distance ... The plain childhood life has written unforgettable poems.
When I was a child, I loved Osmanthus Jelly made by my grandmother.
The warm wind in August blew into the farm yard and awakened the small osmanthus tree.
Grandma picked up the bamboo pole and beat the branches. After tapping lightly, she scattered the white flowers all over the floor, then washed them repeatedly with clear water and put them in the oil pan to stir fry.
The golden cake is full of white flowers with a little green buds. You don't have to eat, just watch and eat.
Take a gentle bite, full of fragrance, fresh and penetrating teeth.
Grandma looked at me with a spoiled smile.
The memory of childhood is gradually forgotten. I haven't smelled the fragrance of flowers for a long time, and I haven't seen my busy grandmother for a long time.
Recently, in the face of the increasingly shortened countdown to the senior high school entrance examination, grandma came from the countryside to take care of me and took me to the morning market.
Grandma's back seems to be a little hunched, bending forward, but the heavy cotton-padded coat does not affect her steady pace at all. Unconsciously, I have been left far behind.
In early winter, the sky is still blue, but the cold has spread to the whole city. Even if the sun shines, the sky is dry and cold.
A cold wind came. Although I had wrapped myself up, I still couldn't resist the cold of the raid, and the cold spread along my neck.
Suddenly, grandma seemed to remember something, stopped and turned to me and said, "Girl, why didn't you bring a scarf?" With that, he took off the scarf around his neck and gently wrapped it around my cold neck.
"Grandma, I'm fine, I'm not cold ..." Without giving me a chance to speak, Grandma turned stubbornly and strode forward.
...
A beautiful beginning of the composition "Poetry in the Ordinary"! All the time bounced off my fingers, and the old square was covered with spider footprints. It is weaving a net inside, and all the squares are dusty, but some places are dense and difficult to distinguish, and some places are sparse and clear. This feeling is gold wrapped in dust. You never know its true value until you taste it. This is the story of growing up. Growth is a vibrant ballad. Go into the field. Walking into the forest wilderness, listening to all the voices and smiles, making noise, chasing and struggling, this is the melody of growth. In the process of growing up, playing a brilliant voice. Growth is a process of color. The bright skirt disappeared and the pink bow flew away. A school uniform is surrounded by dignified colors. Without the colorful cover of fairy tales, we can see the seriousness of textbooks. The accumulated textbooks are as deep as mountains. The beautiful colors of the past only decorate the dreams of youth. Growing up is also a difficult journey. After passing the sad subway, it is a winding mountain road with a winding back and a vague front, full of thorns and flowers. Courageous pursuit, the road extends under your feet, and growth is the road. There are many stories of growing up, including joy and sadness. The years of growth are very long, and we need to feel it bit by bit. Years don't look back, seize every second of today and tie your hopes to the colorful clouds of tomorrow. Growth is a ribbon woven by hope, connecting memories and yearning. What kind of mood we use to look at a journey we have gone through is a sign of how we have grown up. Childhood is beautiful, and today is also beautiful. Therefore, we are all growing up and thinking. Grow up without regrets. Since childhood, we have hidden everything in our hearts, only the ripples left in the heart of the sea are clear ... The blue sky in July is full of fireballs, and the clouds seem to have been melted by the sun and disappeared without a trace. Spring goes with the falling flowers, and the green leaves covered in summer jump in the warm wind. The sunshine in early summer is transmitted from the dense branches and leaves. The ground was covered with shiny spots the size of copper coins. The wind blows with a slight warmth, and sometimes the cuckoo cries and tells us that "spring has passed." Grass, reeds and red, white and purple wildflowers are steamed by the fiery red sun hanging high in the air, and the air is filled with the smell of drunkenness. In early summer, all kinds of wild flowers are in full bloom, red and purple. Swarms of bees are busy among the flowers, sucking the stamens and flying around diligently. In midsummer, it is so hot that even dragonflies only dare to fly near the shade, as if they were afraid that the sun would burn their wings. There is not a cloud or wind in the air. All the trees stood there listlessly in the hot sun overhead. In the midsummer of July, the blue sky is cloudless, and the sun is scorching the earth. The soil in the field is smoking. Under the scorching sun, ripe grain bends down in the heat wave on both sides of the road. Grasshoppers are as numerous as grass leaves. In the wheat field and rye field, in the wheat field and rye field, among the reeds on the shore, they make a weak and noisy sound. The sun is like a fireball, burning with light. The road was scorched by the scorching sun, and a pile of white smoke came down. The weather is sultry. There is no wind at all, and the thick air seems to have solidified. The whole city is like a burnt-out brick kiln, which makes people breathless. Dogs lie prone on the ground with bright red tongues, and mules and horses have particularly large nostrils. The flaming umbrella is high in the air, so hot that the fish in the river dare not show their faces and the birds in the mountains dare not fly out. Even the dogs in the village just stick out their tongues and gasp endlessly. That day, it was terribly hot. As soon as the sun came out, it was everywhere. Some gray air, like clouds and Feiyun, like fog and non-fog, floats low in the air, making people feel breathless. It was a long summer without rain, and the old loach in the field was bleached by the scorching sun. The streams and streams on the edge of the village dropped a few inches, and the stones exposed to the water suddenly became bigger. Birds don't know where to hide. The vegetation is dejected and despondent, as if dying; Only cicadas keep chirping in the branches; It's really breaking gongs and drums to cheer for the scorching sun! The willow trees in the street are sick, and the leaves are hanging with dust and rolling on the branches, and the branches are motionless. The street is white, vendors dare not sell, and the plexiglass signboard at the door of the store seems to have been sunburned. Stars with good sentences are like pearls embedded in the sky, shining. Naughty little stars draw a golden arc in the blue night sky and throw a brocade like a weaver girl. In the winter night, several stars are pitifully cold and shivering, and you can almost hear their teeth fighting with each other. The little star trembled in the cold air, as if shivering with cold. The stars are full of emotions, like naughty children, staring at the world with childish persistence, as if telling a beautiful and moving myth with bright eyes. A white star is like someone holding a candle carefully. Quietly flashing in the sky. A bright and dazzling diamond-like star-seven stars shine in the deep blue sky. Beautiful starry night, there is not a cloud in the sky. The deep blue sky is full of diamond-like stars. Sparkling stars, like gems, are densely covered with the boundless night sky. Galaxy Galaxy, from the northwest sky, runs through the sky. The stars in summer are as lovely as naughty children. Several bright stars hung in the night sky, as if people in the sky were carrying lanterns to patrol the vast space. The starry sky reflected on the rough sea, then danced up and down with the waves, and sometimes disappeared. The earliest morning star is shining in the dark blue sky. It is big and bright. It is the only one in the whole vast sky that radiates amazing brilliance, like a bright lamp hanging high in the sky. In the morning, the snowstorm stopped, but it is still a long time before dawn. A few remnant stars secretly opened their eyes to peep at the snowy world. Gradually, the remnant star closed her sleepy eyes, retired and disappeared into the morning sky. A meteor drew silver lines in the night sky, just like exploring the most beautiful world. ...
Urgently ask for an essay "Poetry in Plain Life"! ! ! At the beginning, there are poems in plain life. Life is not ... if all the years are solidified poems, the meeting between you and me is the most beautiful petal, carrying a plain poem and overflowing with fragrance ... A plain childhood life has written an unforgettable poem.
When I was a child, I loved Osmanthus Jelly made by my grandmother.
The warm wind in August blew into the farm yard and awakened the small osmanthus tree.
Grandma picked up the bamboo pole and beat the branches. After tapping lightly, she scattered the white flowers all over the floor, then washed them repeatedly with clear water and put them in the oil pan to stir fry.
The golden cake is full of white flowers with a little green buds. You don't have to eat, just watch and eat.
Take a gentle bite, full of fragrance, fresh and penetrating teeth.
Grandma looked at me with a spoiled smile.
The memory of childhood is gradually forgotten. I haven't smelled the fragrance of flowers for a long time, and I haven't seen my busy grandmother for a long time.
Recently, in the face of the increasingly shortened countdown to the senior high school entrance examination, grandma came from the countryside to take care of me and took me to the morning market.
Grandma's back seems to be a little hunched, bending forward, but the heavy cotton-padded coat does not affect her steady pace at all. Unconsciously, I have been left far behind.
In early winter, the sky is still blue, but the cold has spread to the whole city. Even if the sun shines, the sky is dry and cold.
A cold wind came. Although I had wrapped myself up, I still couldn't resist the cold of the raid, and the cold spread along my neck.
Suddenly, grandma seemed to remember something, stopped and turned to me and said, "Girl, why didn't you bring a scarf?" With that, he took off the scarf around his neck and gently wrapped it around my cold neck.
"Grandma, I'm fine, I'm not cold ..." Without giving me a chance to speak, Grandma turned stubbornly and strode forward.
...
There are also plain poems. A plain day is just a cup of boiled water.
It's boiled water. You can add sugar and pigment to it to make a bright and delicious drink.
Drinks come in many colors and flavors. The key is whether you are interested or not.
Plain days are a blank sheet of paper.
It is white paper, on which you can write articles and draw pictures.
Articles include novels, essays, poems, etc. There are landscapes, figures, flowers and birds in the picture. The key is whether you have feelings and can write pictures.
Boring, not boring. A dull day is just a cup of green tea. Only by careful taste, its aftertaste is endless. Plain is not a blank, plain days are a multi-dimensional painting, and only by focusing on it can we see its mystery.
Plain days are easy and interesting.
On such a day, you can chat with your elderly grandparents, take a walk with your parents and write letters to friends far away.
Plain days are calm and natural.
On such a day, you can go to the seaside, listen to the cries of seagulls and watch the stormy waves lapping on the shore; Go to the top of the hill, smell the birds singing and see the mountains empty; Go to the field, watch the smoke curling from the farmhouse and see the white clouds.
If possible, you'd better go to the forest, think of Snow White in fairy tales, look for exotic flowers and plants by the stream, and find a free and happy jade rabbit and deer in the forest.
Plain days are as calm as water.
On such a day, people's souls are peaceful, their thoughts are clear and their mood is peaceful.
On such a day, you can recall your childhood, your campus, your first love, those sparkling true feelings and feelings.
On a dull day, you can concentrate on reading first and then sit quietly.
In the book, you can talk with the sages of ancient and modern China and foreign countries, travel around the world, and appreciate the magnificent cultural attractions and beautiful landscapes of mankind.
Life is complicated, fame and fortune scratch the heart, and plain days are rare; Life is short, like a blink of an eye, and plain days are precious.
...
There are poems in the plain, and writing lotus flowers is also beside the point. Lotus is not outstanding, but plain.
If the years of Fan Wen are solidified poems, the meeting between you and me is the most beautiful petal, carrying a plain poem, and the fragrance overflows into the distance ... The plain childhood life has written an unforgettable poem.
When I was a child, I loved Osmanthus Jelly made by my grandmother.
The warm wind in August blew into the farm yard and awakened the small osmanthus tree.
Grandma picked up the bamboo pole and beat the branches. After tapping lightly, she scattered the white flowers all over the floor, then washed them repeatedly with clear water and put them in the oil pan to stir fry.
The golden cake is full of white flowers with a little green buds. You don't have to eat, just watch and eat.
Take a gentle bite, full of fragrance, fresh and penetrating teeth.
Grandma looked at me with a spoiled smile.
The memory of childhood is gradually forgotten. I haven't smelled the fragrance of flowers for a long time, and I haven't seen my busy grandmother for a long time.
Recently, in the face of the increasingly shortened countdown to the senior high school entrance examination, grandma came from the countryside to take care of me and took me to the morning market.
Grandma's back seems to be a little hunched, bending forward, but the heavy cotton-padded coat does not affect her steady pace at all. Unconsciously, I have been left far behind.
In early winter, the sky is still blue, but the cold has spread to the whole city. Even if the sun shines, the sky is dry and cold.
A cold wind came. Although I had wrapped myself up, I still couldn't resist the cold of the raid, and the cold spread along my neck.
Suddenly, grandma seemed to remember something, stopped and turned to me and said, "Girl, why didn't you bring a scarf?" With that, he took off the scarf around his neck and gently wrapped it around my cold neck.
"Grandma, I'm fine, I'm not cold ..." Without giving me a chance to speak, Grandma turned stubbornly and strode forward.
I clearly saw grandma's body shaking suddenly, and a few wayward silver wires emerged from the brim of her hat and danced in the cold wind. They betrayed my grandmother's weak but energetic figure ... I buried my face in a soft scarf, and the familiar flowers collided with the familiar temperature, and the door of memory stood upright. Now, we have those plain but fragrant days: you sit on a cane chair and shake a fan to repel mosquitoes for me, and the cattail fan shakes a silent arc.
Life doesn't necessarily need red wine and candlelight to set off. Even if it is dull, people will always write poems.
Years have shattered the bustling glass, but only the dull, blooming in the branches of the years, burning its brilliance ... The narrative of this topic is better, and the description of the scenery will appear abrupt.
...
Poetry is not only gorgeous, but also elegant and ordinary.
Life is not only burning, but also safe.
Seeing poetry in the ordinary is a great gift.
For example, in daily life, some people always complain that life is not satisfactory, complaining that life is not fun and beautiful.
In fact, if you observe, experience and think with your heart, you will find that life is colorful, full of fun, and there are traces of beauty everywhere.
See flowers when you are frustrated. When you see broken flowers and leaves, you may think that you are like that flower, withered, uncut and lifeless.
When you are happy, when you see a withered flower, maybe you will think of its selflessness and greatness.
"Falling red is not heartless, but turning into spring mud is more protective of flowers." You will feel that life is so short, and we should also make selfless contributions like flowers and play an infinite value in a limited life.
If you look carefully, you will find that this flower is actually beautiful.
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