Sentimental composition

Whether in school or in society, we often see the figure of composition. Composition is a narrative method to express a theme through words. Then do you know how to write a good composition? The following is my carefully arranged composition about sadness, for reference only, and you are welcome to read it. About sad composition 1

I'm very sad recently

I often have mixed feelings

I'm happy

I'm sad

I don't know why

I really want to keep a diary these days

I want to express my heart in words

But I'm not a writer yet

I can't express my complicated heart in just words < Say

but can't say it

I have written several journals

but I just can't vent my feelings

Who can tell me

why

I want to yell

but I can't shout

I want to beat someone up

but until it's unrealistic

I always do things right with my mother

My mother asked me. I insist on saying something about me to my mother, so I get angry with her. I hate myself when I see my mother angry. I don't want to do this, but I can't help it. What should I do? My mother says I'm becoming more and more rebellious. She says I've changed a lot. I also feel that I've changed. I used to be sticky all the time. I don't want to stay at home more and more

I used to have endless words with my mother

Now I'm mostly silent with my mother

I used to care about my mother

Now I ignore my mother

I think I always said, "Even when I grow up to 1 years old, I want to haunt you like this"

My mother always said, "Not when you grow up"

I. I will never change "

...

But I haven't said these words to my mother for a long time.

As my mother said, I have changed.

What's wrong with me? 2

On a late autumn morning, I was walking alone in the forest path, and what caught my eye was golden. I felt that autumn had matured towards us with the joy of harvest. This is like a golden fairy tale, and I have become the only visitor in autumn. In the rustling autumn wind, the withered leaves on the tree are falling down in succession. It slowly and slowly fell to the ground, making a sad "rustling" sound. Falling leaves! Are you mourning the shortness of your life? No, it's not! Fallen leaves won't be so short of breath!

unconsciously, I have reached the end of the road. I saw a clear stream in front of me, and the fallen leaves fell on the stream with the wind, just like golden boats. The stream kept flowing, and the fallen leaves whirled with the tide, starting their long and arduous journey ... Seeing that there was no way out, I simply lay down on the luxurious carpet and looked up. There seemed to be some green leaves left on the bare branches. Perhaps this green leaf will fall down in a few days and throw itself into the embrace of Mother Earth. "Fallen leaves are not heartless things, but turn into spring mud to protect flowers." Yes! It is paying its own life for the coming year. Falling leaves! Your brilliant life will not end with autumn, because solid seeds have gone to the next spring with your hope. Falling leaves!

you don't have to worry that the bare branches will be frozen by frost, because the tender branches of the past have become the men of iron roads. Floating leisurely, floating leisurely, the fallen leaves are still hovering and scattered there. It doesn't seem to be attached to the branches, and it doesn't worry about fate, but just looking for its own home. It thinks: since its life has had an unusual beginning, it should have an unusual ending. About the sad composition 3

When leaving, there were no tears as expected, and I was not as glad as before. It is after the graduation exam that I ask myself several times: "So I graduated?" Then, the question mark turned into a full stop and I hurried home. Other students were talking and laughing as usual, but we forgot that we had a diploma in our hands ...

Before summer left, autumn wind began to touch those leaves. From green, autumn wind dyed the leaves orange, red and purple with its colorful hands, and everything was really beautiful. However, the leaves will fall, turn brown, and then become ashes all over the ground-the passage of time is unpredictable.

Last autumn, it was an equally beautiful autumn. I parted from some of my classmates because of the placement of classes. Fortunately, I am still in this class, which has long been integrated with me. I am glad, and I am secretly happy. But the coming of autumn again means the arrival of a new semester, and I can't go back to the high school ... < P > When I left, I didn't cry like I thought, and I wasn't as glad as before. It is after the graduation exam that I ask myself several times: "So I graduated?" Then, the question mark turned into a full stop and I hurried home. Other students are talking and laughing as usual, but we forget that we have a diploma in our hands ... < P > I still miss them often, and I miss the "friends" in my parents' eyes, and my heart hurts to the extreme. There is always an indescribable feeling, like losing my soul, and from time to time there is a kind of sadness and sadness around me. Looking at the fallen leaves on the ground, I understand that it was autumn that reminded me.

It is true that the deja vu autumn has come, but at the same time, it has injected new desolation, new loneliness and new thoughts into this land, and also evoked endless joys and sorrows of friends. "Falling red is not a heartless thing, but turning into spring mud protects flowers more." The falling of falling red is a kind of sad harmony, and what kind of thoughts and pains are contained in that ancient memory! Isn't the falling red on the ground mourning for autumn? Can also be a hymn for autumn. It's just that on top of the numerous sad songs written by falling red, a layer of slightly sad poems is spread. Who's there? Understand that the separation of trees and leaves is a kind of loss, and what kind of sustenance is there? What kind of grief, and who! How many people have the pain of parting on their cheeks when they know the colorful falling red and desolate falling?

Yes, falling and colorful are only temporary, and how many years and seasons will the sad parting evolve? About the sentimental composition 4

If many people's talents and interests are determined by nature, then I think the sense of taste is largely acquired. Living environment and eating habits from childhood will gradually cultivate a person's sense of taste, and then affect his lifelong eating habits. It is often said that the way a father eats will have a great influence on his children's eating habits, and I think the taste of a mother's cooking will determine the formation of a person's taste.

It is surrounded by the life of nature in the countryside. My mother's dishes are all natural raw materials, and fresh vegetables are all picked from her own garden. Chickens and ducks can also be fed by themselves. Although they are not rich, they are eaten with relish several times and regarded as delicacies. There are four distinct seasons throughout the year, and the dishes are the most seasonal. In the early summer, the newly-grown potatoes, with fresh soil, have a reddish new skin after mud removal, and cooperate with the newly-fallen eggplant to make eggplant potatoes, which are sticky and delicious. Potatoes are very smooth and have a fresh earthy smell. With white rice, two bowls of rice can never be beaten. When the seasons change and the ingredients are limited, my mother will think of ways to make various patterns, which will have a good taste and appearance. Corn is boiled, roasted and eaten, or corn syrup is forked out, added with seasoning, put on a few corn leaves, steamed and eaten in a pot, and there is a faint smell of grass in it, or it is made into corn porridge, put in tomato strips, fresh potato pieces and a pot of porridge. In my opinion, even if I burst my belly, I can eat it all. There are many ways to eat potatoes, such as shredded potatoes, fried potato chips, all kinds of them, and as a side dish. For example, chicken and potato pieces. Although it is not eaten many times, it is very memorable every time. When cooking this dish, my mother will put in half a pot of potatoes, but it will not affect the taste of chicken at all, and the potato also has the taste of chicken soup. When I was younger, my brother and I always scrambled to eat to see who could eat more chicken. Mother and father are just there with potatoes. A little older, let mother clip meat, she refused, really not line, just clip a piece with bones and chew there. When it's big, no one robbed it, and there are still no potatoes left in the pot, but the chicken is still there.

When I was a child, my mother gave me the feeling that there was nothing she wouldn't do. Whenever I went home for dinner, I always got all kinds of happiness at the dinner table. Life is not a surplus, but we feel that there are all kinds of delicious food in life. After the exam, my mother will make scrambled eggs for me, which is my favorite. Mother will cook fried eggs for us for breakfast on the day of the exam. It is rare to eat eggs so completely, and it is not superstition. Every time I eat this, my heart is filled with joy and it can bring good luck. In my opinion, my mother's specialty is far more than that, and I can't bear to think about it. My mother is very meticulous in cooking. What impressed me the most is that when she makes bean paste buns, there are many processes. Pick new adzuki beans, cook them, dry them, crush them, soak them in water, peel them with water, dry them, and stir-fry them with sugar to get fine bean stuffing, then clutch the stuffing and steam steamed buns. It sounds a bit like the steps of doing chemical experiments, but my mother had to be busy for three or four days before and after, and finally made a bean paste bag that my brother and I both liked. Of course, we like stuffing best, and my mother later adjusted it to make it bigger, and it's not as big as usual. Haha, so there is a bean paste bag with thin skin and oversized stuffing, which is made exclusively. It tastes fine and smooth, My Sweetie's.

As far as I'm concerned, from childhood until I was a teenager, I only felt that there was only one person in the world who cooked the best food and loved it the most, so that I went out to stay at school and began to find the food in the canteen unacceptable. Later, slowly, not to say how many books to read and how many roads to walk, but actually how many books to read and how many meals to eat. After a long time, I have seen more and eaten more. I know that the dishes cooked by my mother are not as good as those cooked by the chef in terms of ingredients and cooking methods, and the taste is not so rich, sometimes it is a little lighter. But as I said before, my sense of taste has been formed.

I have been away from home to go to school for a long time. When I call my mother, I will intentionally compliment her on how delicious her food is. She will not buy it with a smile. When I say how much I want to eat her cooking, I actually mean the appearance, and she will understand what I mean. I think I'm a foodie, and I want to try my best to taste the food wherever I go. Indeed, there are many kinds and choices of delicious food, and you should be able to eat all the special flavors you want. There are all kinds of tastes in the world, delicious, spicy, refreshing and crisp, but I still can't forget the taste of my mother's cooking, which is the source of my taste and develops my taste buds. It is warm in my heart and will always be delicious.

think about it, how happy it will be if the other half cooks a good dish for you in the future, or if you are both foodies!

I would like to give this document to my mother, and all women like my mother in the world! Happy holidays!

May night

Tonight, May night, it is another night of intermittent insomnia for me. When the spirits of the dark night shed a soft curtain like ink, covering all living things in the world, the tentacles of the night are as cool as water, and the hands of the alarm clock have crossed the zero hour, but my sleepiness has disappeared. For me, a night like this has become the normal state in ordinary days. Reading, counting, counting sheep ... I tried many kinds of hypnosis methods, but they all ended in vain. An inexplicable emotion tore at my soul and tortured my body. This emotion was like a starter, which made my mood surge in peace and began to be restless and uneasy. I got up, dressed and paced the window, looked up at the dark blue night sky, blinked, and the moon sank, and the wind passed by the window, refreshing.

May night, refreshing and warm night, without the chilly spring night, the unbearable heat of summer night, the wind is soft and the day is warm, adding a warmth of the transition between late spring and early summer. I stood at the window in this silent night, opened the curtain, and opened the window. There was a breeze blowing, no coolness and chill of spring breeze, no sultry and humid of Xia Feng, and it was only that unique delicacy and gentleness. About sad composition 5

It's so lonely after the winter vacation! For example, the last fallen maple leaf before the arrival of winter and the last melted snowflake before the arrival of spring bring infinite sorrow to people.

leisure is the best way to describe my present situation. It is because of my leisure that I have time to go out for a walk. Slow and unhurried, leisurely shuttled through the small alley.

It's the same little windmill, crying long and hard, and I don't know what feelings it is mixed with. The shops on both sides were laid out in an orderly way, some with antiques. I didn't care and walked away in a hurry.

It's a bridge. It's an old bridge, covered with moss, and it's a little more stable when you step on it. The river is flowing and there is no sound, but I can sense its existence with my nose.

Walking, my legs are a little tired. Sitting on the steps, I can relax. I also feel that there is an old man near me who photographed all these people, water, windmills and antiques in stalls with an old-fashioned black and white camera. About the sad composition 6

Fragile words, bleak parting or youthful time, or fleeting time. When the flowers are all over the sky, I look back and smile, and my eyes are like stars. Dead vines and old trees faint crows, small bridges and flowing water, and thin horses travel around the world. At the end of the ancient road, it is either a youthful time or a fleeting time.

when the flowers are all over the sky, look back and look at each other, smile and look like stars.

A dead vine and an old tree faint crow, a small bridge and flowing water, and a thin horse walk around the world.

at the end of the ancient road, the sky is full of clouds, and the vicissitudes of life in the world are fascinating, and you can't see the way back alone.

the moonlight is shallow, and your figure is blurred.

the sound of the piano is melodious, and every bit comes to my mind.

holding hands and looking at each other, I can see that my face is fading, the flowers have faded, and people have not gone far. I will never forget it.

The long bluestone road, the heavy emotions, those people and those words are unforgettable from beginning to end, and the long emotions living in the left atrium suddenly pour out and indulge in them. Time has been passing slowly, dwelling behind time, counting the years that have passed together, you have always been in that most dazzling position. Time flies, from the moment I met you, it really exists. You said, you are autumn, dust and sorrow.

I've always wanted to know how to face life and look directly at society. My heart is broken, so how can I stay in a flower affair with such thoughts and entanglements? In the depths of the lonely phoenix tree in clear autumn, where are the Iraqis? On the way to look forward to it, have you ever stopped, adding to your worries?

childhood trail, sunset glow.