From tomorrow on, I want to be a happy person;
Comb hair, chop wood and travel around the world.
From tomorrow on, I will care about food and vegetables.
I have a house facing the sea, which is full of spring flowers.
From tomorrow on, communicate with every relative.
Tell them my happiness.
What did the lightning of happiness tell me,
I will distribute it to each of them.
Give every river and mountain a warm name.
Stranger, I will also wish you happiness.
I wish you a bright future!
May you lovers get married!
May you be happy on earth.
I only want to face the sea and spring blossoms.
Shu Ting's motherland, my dear motherland.
Not bad, absolutely suitable for reading! And the thought is upward, the language is beautiful, and it is never naive!
By the way, did you take part in the recitation activities in class? This song is very nice and famous. There are many celebrities reciting on the Internet. If you imitate it, the effect will be very good.
I am your shabby old waterwheel by the river.
Old songs that have been spun for hundreds of years.
I am a miner's lamp with your forehead blackened.
When you grope in the tunnel of history.
I am a withered ear of rice; This is a roadbed that is in disrepair.
This is a barge on the beach.
Draw the rope deep
Pull it into your shoulder
-the motherland!
I am very poor.
I am sad
I am your ancestor.
Painful hope.
It's a flying sleeve.
Flowers that never fall to the ground for thousands of years
-Motherland
I am your brand-new ideal.
Just broke free from the mythical spider web.
I am the germ of your ancient lotus under the snow.
I am your tearful smile.
I am the newly painted white starting line.
This is crimson dawn.
Spraying
-Motherland
I am one billionth of you.
Is the sum of your 9.6 million square meters.
You are scarred by * * *
raise
Lost me, considerate me, boiling me.
And then from my flesh and blood
get
Your richness, your glory, your freedom.
-Motherland
my dear motherland
Find a modern poem, a flowering tree.
How to let you meet me
In my most beautiful moment
for this reason
I prayed in front of the Buddha for 500 years.
Pray for Buddha to let us have a dusty relationship.
Buddha made me a tree.
Follow the path you may take.
Under?the?sun
Carefully full of flowers.
Every flower carries my previous hopes.
When you get close,
Listen carefully
Trembling leaves
This is the passion I am waiting for.
When you walked under the tree, you didn't notice me.
On the ground behind you
My friend,
Not falling petals
But my withered heart.
Help write a modern poem! A cluster of dandelion modern poems
I am a bunch of dandelions,
When you are mature and deeply rooted in this soil,
I left you.
I shed tears of longing and gratitude. . .
During my wandering journey, I saw,
Lush Woods and gurgling streams in summer,
In winter, the cold wind blows hard,
Spring is full of flowers and colorful beauty.
In autumn, leaves are swaying and fruitful.
I don't know how many years I've been wandering,
Finally landed on a one-meter flower,
Your beautiful and wild moment,
Became the deepest impression in my life,
I will never forget you from now on.
However, I have to accept my fate,
At your most beautiful moment,
I left you,
Tears of yearning and love. . .
I forgot to enjoy the scenery along the way,
Maybe the dust all the way made me tired and heavy,
I finally landed on a piece of land
Slowly take root and sprout,
The vigorous branches are covered with clusters of dandelions,
For my mission,
I can't leave anymore,
However, it left me with the same fate as me. .
Please help write a modern poem "Rain Lane"
Author: Dai Wangshu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color,
Lilac-like fragrance,
Sad as cloves,
Mourning in the rain,
Sadness and hesitation;
She lingers in this lonely rain lane,
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me,
Like me.
Walking silently,
Cold, sad, melancholy.
She approached quietly.
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes,
She floated by.
Like a dream,
As sad and confused as a dream.
Floating like a dream
A lilac field,
I passed this girl by;
She left quietly, left,
A crumbling fence,
Walk through this rainy path.
In the lamentation of the rain,
Remove her color,
Spread her fragrance,
Disappeared, even hers
Breathing eyes,
Lilac is melancholy.
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane,
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
Out of context-Bian Zhilin
You stand on the bridge and watch the scenery.
The landscape observer is watching you upstairs.
The bright moon decorated your window,
You decorated other people's dreams.
After the rain
Author: Xi Murong
Life can also be a poem.
If you can let me move on slowly
Quietly looking forward to finding
The dusk in my arms is getting deeper and deeper.
Through the unknown mud
In the dark clouds
Finally shed tears for everyone
Missed or not missed encounters
In fact, life can always be a poem in the end.
After the rainstorm
My mind will be cleaner.
If you are willing to wait
All the floating clouds
Eventually, it will all flow into a river.
[The first model essay network, the first model essay. Finishing this article, the copyright belongs to the original author and the original source. 〗
Shu Ting's << To Oak Tree >>
If I love you-/I will never learn to climb the Campbell flower,/I will show off myself on your high branch;
/If I love you-/Never learn from spoony birds,/Repeat monotonous songs for the shade;
/It's not just like a fountain/It brings cool comfort all year round; /Not just like a dangerous mountain peak,
/increase your height,/set off your dignity. /even sunshine/even spring rain
No, these are not enough. I must be a kapok beside you.
/Stand with you as the image of a tree. /root, clenched in the ground;
/Leaves, lingering in the clouds. Every time a gust of wind blows, we greet each other.
But no one understands us. You have your copper branches and iron stems.
/Like a knife, like a sword, like a halberd; /I have my red flowers,/like a heavy sigh,
/Like a heroic torch/We share the cold wave and lightning;
/We * * * enjoy the misty rainbow; /seemingly separated forever, but they are dependent for life.
/This is great love,/Loyalty is here/Love/Not only your stalwart body,
/I also love your stand,/the land under your feet.
Author: Yu Guangzhong
Works: Listening to the night in the mountains
Content:
Forever mountain night
Everything is like a dream.
What could be better than complete silence?
More resistant to listening?
No matter how long and busy the history is.
There will always be a moment.
There's no need to argue, is there?
But what about the wind? you said
Wind? That's the transit of time
Occasionally a little
A little echo
Dai Wangshu's "I Use Broken Palm"
I used my injured palm.
Explore this vast land:
This corner has been reduced to ashes,
There is only blood and mud in that corner? nbsp
This lake should be my hometown,
(In spring, the bank is full of flowers.
There is a strange smell when the tender willow branches are broken. )
I touched the coolness of seaweed and water;
The snow peaks in Changbai Mountain are freezing cold.
The water and sediment of the Yellow River slip through the fingers;
The rice fields in Jiangnan are so soft ... now there is only Artemisia scoparia;
Litchi flowers in Lingnan are lonely and withered,
There, I was immersed in the bitter water of the South China Sea without fishing boats. ...
Invisible palms swept the mountains without complaint,
Fingers stained with blood and ash, palms stained with darkness,
Only the far corner is still intact,
Warm, clear, firm and vigorous spring.
On it, I stroked it with my broken palm,
Like a lover's soft hair, a baby's milk.
I put all my strength in my palm.
Put it on, send love and all hope,
Because there is only the sun, no spring,
Will dispel the haze and bring Su Sheng,
Because it's the only place where we don't live like animals,
Die like an ant ... there, eternal China!
Shu Ting's motherland, my dear motherland.
I am your shabby old waterwheel by the river.
Tired songs that have been spun for hundreds of years;
I am a miner's lamp blackened on your forehead,
Do what you do in the tunnel of history;
I am a withered ear of rice; It is a roadbed that has been in disrepair for a long time;
This is a barge on the beach.
Draw the rope deep
Pull into your shoulder;
-the motherland!
I'm poor,
I am sad.
I am your ancestor.
Painful hope,
It's a flying sleeve.
Flowers that never fall to the ground for thousands of years;
-the motherland!
I am your brand-new ideal,
A modern poem "Seeking Dreams"
Once,
Have a little wish.
Later,
Into a dream fluttering in the wind.
In ignorance,
The dream has already drifted away.
In a daze,
I lost my way in life.
In persistence,
I once longed for Iraq.
People who can forget to guide street lamps.
Finally,
In a hurry,
Epiphany, life tells me,
To find the lost dream.
So,
I looked and looked,
I saw it waving to me in the distance.
That's the road to dreams.
That's the intersection where I met teenagers.
It's just that this road is full of thorns
But life says,
Without cruelty, there is no courage.
Fortunately,
After thousands of pursuits,
Finally overlooking.
Since then,
I only care about the hardships.
Help me write a modern poem! A thief's words
Open your window.
Open your boarding gate.
Let me in, let me in.
Go to your cabin.
I have a lock opener.
I carry a scary knife.
I brought a cloth bag with money.
I am wearing pajamas.
Go to sleep, go to sleep.
Go to sleep. Someone.
Close your beautiful and horrible eyes.
Keep your eyes from seeing me coming.
Make your drawer look like a small board room.
Open your long-locked lock.
Let me put money, jewelry, jewelry.
Put it in that big, empty bag.
Seeking a modern poet: My sight is blocked by a high wall.
Woman: My breath is wrapped in smoke.
Qi: Running around in the crowd and traffic during the day.
I curl up on the sofa at night.
Man: God, I want to break free.
To trickle down,
Go to a quiet pavilion,
Go and compare with the mountain.
Go and sing to the birds.
W: I know my body and mind.
Without your nourishment,
I know what I think,
Enriched by your comfort.
Qi: I know—
You gave me too much.
Watching you leave me,
I have never stopped asking of you.
Although you won't say it silently,
Your pain can't be concealed and silenced.
How can you be happy after such a big injury?
Woman: I feel sorry for you and deeply blame myself.
Better late than never, it won't lead to catastrophe.
Qi: It's still green.
This river is very clear
M: Make the air fresher.
Let the flowers and trees dance,
Woman: Let the grass-green birds sing,
Make home beautiful and full of vitality.
Qi: Only in this way can we enjoy a colorful life.
Take care of the earth where we live.
Looking for a modern poem "I" and "I" Xi Murong
I like to leave.
I like to have new dreams all my life
Qian Shan Wanshui Free Travel
No matter what direction the stars point.
I like to stay for a long time.
I like to plant thousands of fruit trees in the garden.
Waiting for winter thunder, summer rain, spring flowers and autumn fruits.
I like life with only pure hope.
Only steady and slow growth.
I like the color after years of rinsing.
I like that song that I haven't sung.
I like to write a long poem in the evening.
Then come back on this cool morning.
View line by line and paragraph by paragraph
Delete slowly
Every word related to you.
Appreciation (you were in a hurry, so you copied the appreciation written by others, sorry):
"I" is a self who likes the true colors of life. No matter life, dream or life, you can walk around and stop all the way without utilitarian thinking about purpose and significance. The last sentence is a girl's feelings that have faded over the years. It is revealed in the poetry at night, and it will be deleted in the morning and buried deep in my heart.
The color washed by years seems to have faded and lost its gorgeous luster. However, it is the truest, purest and most beautiful one that is left after the rinsing of time.
As for the songs I haven't sung, I don't know if I have such a mood. There are people who like it but dare not approach it. They just miss each other silently, fantasize about being close to each other, but are doomed to separate. That kind of mood and love for her are songs that they have never sung in their hearts, right?
Xi Murong is a romantic and nostalgic person. From her unrepentant youth, we can see that when she was young, she really wanted to love the person she longed to be with all her life. However, due to all kinds of unreality, she did not escape the fate of final parting. When she looked back and tasted youth, she used a poem "I" to knot her feelings, and the color washed in those years should be her old heart and face.