How to write a short poem in front of Tomb-Sweeping Day?

When enjoying the incense, it is already clear. When enjoying the fragrance, put the wine on Qingming. Next, I bring you modern poems about Tomb-Sweeping Day. Welcome to enjoy it together! Tomb-Sweeping Day's Modern Poetry 1 1, by Tomb-Sweeping Day: Brother Chao's clear rain soothes the tears of the dead. On this day, we can only decorate the sad scenery with petals. At the beginning of spring, a new life was born. People who make life take off their clothes, miss life and turn life into a lit smoke cloud. Smelling the breath of spring reminds me of my nursing mother. Perhaps it is the beginning of mourning for the old friend. Those patterns burned by Tomb-Sweeping Day can fly to the right place, can be used as cakes to satisfy hunger, and can be used as houses to live in. Smoke is a long bridge on this day. Tomb-Sweeping Day is a timely rain Author: Clumsy Penguin Tomb-Sweeping Day is a timely rain. In the name of Qingming, it began with bathing in the Zhou Dynasty. Qin, Han, Tang, Song, Yuan and Ming inherited orderly poems and songs, leaving traces of their irrigation watershed in folk gardens. Tomb-Sweeping Day is a seedling of timely rain and spring. Trees are bathed by it and germinate and turn green from generation to generation. They are poured into the fields of thousands of families to prevent moth and corrosion, and the fine varieties of grain are waiting. Tomb-Sweeping Day is a timely rain, inspired by the spring breeze. Bundles of white chrysanthemums dragging the rain. One soul after another is crying on the branches, dragging on time. Back in time, take us back to the past and step on broken silver everywhere. We turn around with time and look at our loved ones. 3. Tomb-Sweeping Day's Sorrow Author: Liu Bo Effie has no greater sacrifice than being remembered by everyone. Nothing is more noble than being remembered by the people forever! Your inscription is your great achievements engraved in the hearts of the people. Or ordinary things, because of the infiltration of your true feelings, are as bright as stars. I sincerely touch the words condensed by your short but eternal life with my soul, and every time I touch my ignorant soul, it is like experiencing the baptism of rebirth; My conscience abandoned by desire is being punished and tortured. All white and elegant flowers will be clustered in front of your grave, which is the continuation of your elegance and the cohesion of your sound system. All merciful hearts should be examined by you, even if mourning is hypocrisy, awe, and awe of humility in the face of nobility. Standing in front of your grave, I feel my heart is bleeding! Boundless sky, whose depravity made your glory accompany their depravity? Whose erosion made your elegance die for their sins? 4, in memory of Tomb-Sweeping Day Author: Xing Zheping ancient ancestors set this special festival to commemorate all the old friends. Let them not be lonely in heaven, whether they are relatives, ancestors or revolutionary martyrs. The blood of the land they once walked on continues. Your deeds and your history will never be forgotten. At this time, the graves in the wasteland were full of flowers and burned up the banknotes. May you not be poor or lonely there. Tears full of memories, glory full of thoughts. I commend the revolutionary martyrs, who left a strong will. China's military spirit has a far-reaching influence and never stops. I miss my dead relatives, and my eyes are full of tears. Your fatigue is always associated with our happiness. 5, Tomb-Sweeping Day (Poetry) Author: Simple soil under the soil, it is a different underworld. The person whose last name should be Elysium never came back. Close your eyes and go in to bypass a funeral to let some tears and paper dust float. People on the soil can't help but think that people are really dead. They went to a different place, lived underground and blessed us. We are talking about Tomb-Sweeping Day, but we don't really know. The fog is one meter away. On the way to the wall, the wind and Buddha move white and the butterfly is gray, and the water rises and the boat rises, and the ink is clear in spring. The unknown sorcery curse keeps oozing from the moldy world, cursing the beautiful poems in March incoherently, making the peach blossom crazy and stirring the silence and gloom in April. Unclear rain, thin silk, closely woven with sad and uneasy souls, unable to see the dark sleep being divided into tears by rain, the quiet mood sinking, turning a blind eye in the root of the word, let the mountain wind come and go, without unexpected barking, tears, and forbearing blinking, let the witch curse and drown in the silent common dust rain. Another year of Tomb-Sweeping Day Author: Wang Qingshui is another year of Tomb-Sweeping Day. The sky was raining cats and dogs, and crystal drops of water slipped from the hair. The sky is full of tears, the breeze is cool, the heart is surging, and the world is full of tears. Willow gradually emerged, continuing the rotation of fallen leaves yesterday, and the pale white and pink petals of flowers in Xinger fell to the ground. Not yesterday, not today, not today, but Tongan's efforts and happiness. Laughing 7, Tomb-Sweeping Day Author: Floating in the middle of the clouds is light, drunk in this helpless world, light a candle to worship the silence and flash of life, memories open, overwhelming and clear rings respond to the relentless bells and tears, and the clear heart in Tomb-Sweeping Day is silent and comfortable. 8, Tomb-Sweeping Day, remembering his father: a local poet, it rains in Tomb-Sweeping Day, which is a day to pay homage to the ancestors of the world. Suddenly, the wandering heart is close to you, and I am afraid that the weeds in front of the grave are already crying heartily. The tears of a son who has been wandering for ten years and waiting for his return from a foreign land have approached your land gently for fear of disturbing your dreams. After ten years of sleep, tears poured down, and black hair and white hair increased. Kneeling at your grave is also a painful and happy day. Where's the baby? Where are the memories of childhood? Father, have you ever felt the heartache of my knife in the depths of the land where you were buried? Have you ever listened to my sobbing words and expressed something that you already expect? Telling you is also a very helpless feeling. Yin and yang are separated, and the difference between heaven and earth is profound. Father loves mountains! 9. Homesickness of Tomb-Sweeping Day Author: The homesickness drizzle of Tomb-Sweeping Day in the eleventh cold quietly weaves a net stuck in my heart, locking my deep attachment. Grandma's smile is just around the corner. I opened my palm and released a paper crane. It contains my 10 million wishes. Fly to the lush spring, fly to the flower sea where rape flowers are in full bloom. It is a long way to my hometown. 10, Tomb-Sweeping Day Sacrifice to Sister Author: Yanyu Covered Bridge, you are no longer coming to us with a smile. I came here to see you again in the drizzle in Tomb-Sweeping Day and in my sister's wet thoughts. Since you lived here alone in 2004, we have never seen each other again. Family reunion for so many years can only be in a tearful dream. Have you forgotten the way home? So when your elderly parents miss you, why don't you come and see them? The money in your weeping hand is like the tears of winter jasmine shivering in the cold wind and flying in the air with scraps of paper. I will steal the key to the gate of heaven, take you home and never part. Tomb-Sweeping Day's modern poem 2 1, Qingming rain, those silk threads are closely woven with sadness. Uneasy souls move around. I can't see the black sleep. At dusk, everyone lives here. A batch of rain tears, full of wine and worship, incense solemn. Let the ancestors in. Throw away the water-deficient lightning, don't dodge, don't extricate yourself, think about it. 2. "Under the Loess" is a foreign land where people with different surnames live. I guess this must be Elysium. Those who went didn't come back, so they closed their eyes and went in. Bypassing a black funeral, let some tears drift like paper dust and wind, and people on the loess can't remember it. Like me, I can't believe my dear grandma is dead. I think she just went to live in a foreign land. Spinning, embroidery, save me something delicious. Take care of me from afar, bless me, pray and sing like a virgin. 3. On the Day of the Dead in Sacrifice to the Soul, the tears whip, tribute fruit and incense sticks of carnival form a landscape. We walked past many rigid wooden shelves, and those souls crowded together as if they were warming each other. These souls are in their own boxes, quietly and silently recalling the streets they have passed and the acquaintances they have passed. And love that I couldn't get in my early years. Now my body has been sawed and carved, and the paint is different from what I heard before. Firecrackers are endless, like many people banging on the table with empty porcelain bowls in their hands. Another expression is that we throw all kinds of emotional dice on the table and then put them away to make the same sound. Oh, white ashes, the essence of morality. These souls no longer use words, actions and eyes. They cleaned up their lives a long time ago, no longer welcoming guests, no longer lending some residual breath. For us, this is a short and long memory. Today, the cakes and fruits we bring are real in their eyes, just like a person doing all kinds of indirect things in a dream. Let us have a rich fantasy. This is that life can be touched by fire. These souls, like birds, live in a self-sufficient box, regardless of spring, summer, autumn and winter. They began to regret that these imprisoned souls longed for the length of dust between heaven and earth, such as rain in the wind or light falling from trees. You see, light smoke is everywhere, and we see sincere nostalgia, which has become fog every year. On the steps, on the lawn, these boxes are worshipped by us. Wiped away by tears, incense gradually burns to ashes like our sadness, and they are close to each other, as if warming those souls. We walked stiffly past many wooden shelves and the scenery was whipped. Tributes and incense sticks constitute the festival of the dead. Revelry of tears 4. "Until Another Tomb-Sweeping Day" Sunshine or rainy season flowers or body temperature thoughts or tears and smiles are all delivered to distant feelings until another kind of attachment or whispering stands or faces memories or smiles, and often lives in the past until another cloud flies or goes beyond walking or running or spinning or follows the smiling back to pour out past dreams. "In the Graveyard" This is the village seven inches on the waist of Qingming. There are many eye-catching words in the coffin, which do not create suspense, but only remember to pay homage. Weeds are still fresh. The barren growth above the tombstone continues to go deep into the roots, and the person you visit is motionless and silent with a few bones. Crows are spectacular. They opened a festival with flustered eyes, like a Buddha walking for thousands of years, sitting in April, waiting for countless tears to drown themselves, holding a few handfuls of loess, burning a fire to fold their bodies, repeatedly hanging their heads and watching those black butterflies, floating gently to stop the flute, and pine and cypress stopped when we went upstream along the full stop. At this time, some lifeless souls began to speak, but many people only knew that the mysterious voice of sending paper money had never been heard. 6. "Tomb-Sweeping Day Poetry" I wrote down my hometown, rice; I wrote down the clear river, I wrote down the fish swimming at the bottom of the water, I wrote down the green grass on the shore, I wrote down the female ghost who looked for love at night light, and I wrote down the legend of grandma and Guanyin. She did good deeds all her life and finally became a fairy. Although she kept saying that she had unfinished wishes, I would write it down. I have to write about the scenery from your humble farmhouse. I must write the power of life from your poor back, just like my father dug Jin Wa out of the ground. We all know it's fake, but he has been digging all his life. Can you believe I have to write that these ancestral graves have moved before Tomb-Sweeping Day? I can't say the only surname in my dialect that hasn't changed. Because of you, I have to keep in touch with my mother. I'm going to burn these unfinished poems in the mountains in Tomb-Sweeping Day. My relatives were in tears and I was unmoved. My soul is talking to your soul, the grass is broken, and the subtle voice in my hand is a message to you. Through the noise of nature and the loneliness of death, we can get a kind of tacit understanding, just like two opposite doors open, and we are fascinated peacefully. (2) Before and after death, we all got unprecedented glory. 1 1 years ago, everyone looked up at a comet, Wei Hui, and walked in the city. All the people who saw them took off their hats and greeted them with colorful garlands. They once folded into a fortress of memories, but now they are mud like grass, like flagpoles torn off, lamenting in the cool breeze. There are only a few thousand mountain ants guarding you day and night in the cemetery. (3) The stone tablet is like ice, which warms my heart in all fields. I feel the same as in previous years. When I went down the mountain, my tears welled up, because the saddest thing was to leave. I'm going to devote myself to boiling interpersonal relationships, fulfill my obligations to others, stick to my duties, enjoy all kinds of emotional twists and turns, and take hard work and pain as the reward of my actions, just like you, and tell people: I am innocent of life. 8. "Qingming" Shi Wangxiang I don't know how much it rained in the spring rain. I think it's been raining like this since Du Mu's time. I think this rain is still slowly wetting the newly added incense ashes and paper money all over the mountain. I think this rain accompanied my grandmother through many flashing blue lights underground. This swaying wind, rain, ice, ice, cool, sad and clear, heavy-hearted luggage is not only a memorial service, but also homesickness. Where can I get drunk in the restaurant? The flute of the shepherd boy in the apricot blossom and spring rain is endless in the wandering journey. The wine flag of the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River was once an evocative cloud. I'm drunk. I'll go to cold food and bring wine next year. "Tomb-Sweeping Day" every year on this day, there is a yearning that grows in the hearts of future generations with the loud cry of cuckoo. No matter how far the journey is, the kite flying freely will be led back to the altar of hometown by a slender thread, bow down in front of a pile of loess, ignite the grief that has been entrusted for a long time, and then call the special line of heaven, so that happiness and sadness can be interpreted as tears. The ancestors separated by Yin and Yang still release warmth and extend their withered hands to the hearts of the younger generation. Hold fast to 10. Paper Money in Tomb-Sweeping Day is filled with papyrus and disappears with fireworks. A page abbreviated as a footprint is a day. On this day, I combed my memories and a fire burned out. I finished reading the pile of wealth and left ashes. The paper money sent by Qingming is burning the fire of lovesickness and soothing the heart of spring. Where does the soul belong? Thoughts are piled up in loess. 38+0 1, "Qingming Evening" Laughing people gradually left flowers where they shouldn't, and crows scared away by the living began to go home. The moss of the soul is a cry that sneaks out of the grave and conveys the laughter at night with the last strength of life. The legend that the rose that never bloomed on the corpse was rejected, the tunnel leading to Rome at night was dug by ants with their toes, and the coffin was smiling at the sun. The humble sky has long since left. Whose civilization is still shaking? The cursed dusk can never extinguish the pain of being torn. If the sky is a huge grave, what will we become? Corroded glory will be broken into eternal silence. Carve the shame of last night on the tombstone for the burnt-out dream. When a poem is swept away by the wind like a dead leaf, tears will be the only remaining ashes. Cover up the emptiness with all exaggerated smiles. A victory delayed by inexplicable pride. Dreams shattered by despair will be silent on the broken strings of the pipa. Young love is as white as a top under the nourishment of tears. Eyebrows at night are a barren land. The night light in March was a broken riot. Time and space here are just the bones of the body running in the moonlight. After dusk in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I hid in a tent and used a bloody knife to fill the barren grave. A white towel swept away the dust on the tombstone, and a bunch of silk flower tied her grief for her mother, lit a wick and said goodbye to her. In April, the endless snow and ice in the north stayed in the cemetery, and the spring breeze stood in front of the tombstone and still felt the salty taste with sad tears. Soft eyes, a heat wave hit my heart, your exhortation turned into a wind chime, the moist soul has been accompanying the children to grow up, and the years have carved the footsteps of climbing the mountain. It's not neat to climb your arms all the way. No matter how difficult it is, you always face the wind with a smile. I know it's your responsibility to let your children take good care of themselves. You are still an umbrella for children. You never left us 13. The Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival is the annual Tomb-Sweeping Day. Look at my parents. They just miss each other at ordinary times. In my dreams, I always think of the filial piety of my loved ones when they were alive. I can't forget their kindness after my parents left. It has taken root in my heart. This is not a posture. It's my child's heart. It's not that many people. There is no need to be ungrateful when my parents are alive. When their parents die, they will show your heart underground. Life needs profound reflection on how to treat parents. In fact, the most important thing you have ever done is how to educate future generations. Tomb-Sweeping Day must never pose to express his children's real life. There are many things to confess. The most terrible thing is that I am sorry for my deceased relatives. Random thoughts on Tomb-Sweeping Day entered Tomb-Sweeping Day with a grateful heart, thanking relatives in the underground and parents in Tomb-Sweeping Day. It is not easy to feel more and more real life. Being a good person is more important than anything else. Being a normal person in life is fundamental. Don't lose heart, be worthy of your friends and your family's fame and fortune. Why should foreign things be taken too seriously? Relatives in the ground can rest assured. 15, "Drunk at Qingming Festival" In my life, the number of drunkenness in front of my parents' graves is not much. Only in front of relatives can you be truly drunk! The reason why you don't get drunk is that your parents show their sincerity. How many hardships, hardships and tiredness in life are from the heart? It's redundant for anyone. Only parents need to cheer up after listening to you and stand up after getting drunk. Everything needs to be done by yourself to comfort the underground parents.