A poem describing a dilapidated and desolate old house

1. The loss of the old house 1. After years of baptism, this old house has carved deep wrinkles on its face.

2. The old house is simple and quiet, long and cordial, old and soft. The beautiful white wall of the years depicts the cracks of the years, and it is more greasy after being wet by rain.

There is a big wooden door in front of the house. I couldn't help knocking on the smooth copper ring on the door. I want to ring the sleeping Jiangnan. Rows of old houses stand side by side on both sides of the alley. The quiet and ancient atmosphere makes people feel as if they were in ancient times hundreds of years ago, drinking a pot of fragrant tea, laughing and talking about chess, calligraphy and painting.

As soon as you enter the room, there is a patio dedicated to washing clothes, and the house is on the right. When I came to the narrow house, I only saw a shabby TV set, a table and some chairs inside. It's really crude.

In the past, my hometown used to live in bungalows, and some people lived in straw houses. These short houses are dilapidated. Winter is coming, and the cold wind is blowing in, which is as cold as an ice house. Few people live in brick houses, and the black smoke from the roof hangs over the sky, making people breathless.

6. You see, some houses are made of rosewood, and the houses are finely carved. When you step into the inner hall, you will smell the fragrance of rosewood, and some eaves are slightly worn out, as if to tell people that they have a long history.

7. We followed my aunt to a shabby old house. There are four or five rooms in a row with two floors. The ground floor room is made of nearly 1 m stone with earth walls on it. The stone is a little black, and the earth wall is mottled, as if telling the age, and some doors are gone. We climbed the crooked wooden stairs carefully. The walls of the room on the second floor were made of wooden boards and all were black.

8. Many houses are made of tiles, grass and stones. There is only a small black-and-white TV set with color images at home. There are only a few shabby old wooden beds in each room.

2. Describe this old house in bleak terms. The old house was destroyed. Pushing open the creaking wooden door, you can see weeds in the yard, half a person's height. The wall of Westinghouse has collapsed, the sun is shining directly on the heatable adobe sleeping platform, and some people are miserable.

The house in the east is still there, but there are many leaks and it is uninhabitable. There are still clear marks on the wall that we scribbled with a brush when we were young. When we opened the door, the room was in a mess, and the newspaper posted on the top window was tattered and dusty. The corner has been covered with bits and pieces of cobwebs, but the spiders have dried up and hung there. The dust on the kang is as thick as the joints. Seeing this scene, I really feel like a lifetime ago.

Walking to the backyard, the once tottering tung tree was thick enough to be held by one person, and the lush branches and leaves covered most of the sunshine in the backyard, which made it even more desolate and heavy. The surrounding earth wall has been washed away by rain without edges and corners.

3. What are the poems describing the "broken rubble" on the house wall?

1. In August, the wind roared and Sanhe grass rolled in my house. Hair flew over the river and sprinkled on the periphery of the river. The highest one hangs a long forest tip, and the lower one floats to Shentang 'ao. The children in Nancun bully me, and I can't stand being a thief in the opposite direction and openly carrying Mao into the bamboo forest. My lips are burnt, my mouth is dry, and I can't breathe. When I came back, I sighed at my staff. In an instant, the wind will set the color of the clouds and ink, and the autumn will be bleak and dark. This cloth has been as cold as iron for many years, and Joule has been lying down and cracking. There is no dry place in the bedside table, and the feet are numb with rain. What's the point of getting wet all night? There are tens of millions of buildings in Ande, which greatly protect all the smiles of the poor in the world, and the wind and rain are as quiet as mountains. Oh! When I suddenly see this house in front of me, I will freeze to death alone! -"The hut was blown by the autumn wind" Don Du Fu

Several huts are idle by the water, and narrow shirts and short hats are hung on the willow branches. If the flower was the brightest last year, it was the spring breeze that blew it away. How can it not be bright red? But tonight's new moon is lying on the top of the tree. I drank a cup of drunk wine at noon until I woke up that night. What is most related to human feelings, thinking about it, or the two or three calls of orioles hidden deep in that bush. -"Bodhisattva Man, a few huts by the water" Wang Song Anshi

3. Bachelor Bishan burned whitebait, and the white horse went deep into the rock. But he still studied as hard as Li Dong Fang Shuo, a writer of Han Dynasty. Although he is still young, he has finished his studies. Outside the hut, Xiangyun, like a car cover, gathered together closely and followed the path like a flood. Since ancient times, glory and wealth must come from diligence, and knowledgeable people should read a group of books like cypress trees to seek fame. -"Bai Xueshi's Cabin" Don Du Fu

There are thousands of bridges on the flat river bank. Shui Rou blue, lingering with flowers and plants. There are some windows in the hut. Dust can't reach it. There is always a spring breeze. Go to bed in the afternoon and smell the birds. Sleeping is like getting up early and listening to chickens crow. It suddenly occurred to me that an old friend is always old today. Dreaming is good. I forgot Handan Road at a loss. -"The Pride of Fisherman, the Bridge on Peace" Anshi, Wang Song

I looked for a monk in his hut where the sun had entered the western hills. But only the fallen leaves were at home, and I walked through the chilling clouds. I heard the sound of stone gongs at dusk, and I leaned all my weight on my slender cane. In this world, in this dust, how can there be room for human passion? . -"North Luo Qing" Don Li Shangyin

4. The sentence describing that shabby house 1. As soon as you enter the room, there is a patio dedicated to washing clothes, and the house is on the right. When I came to the narrow house, I only saw a shabby TV set, a table and some chairs inside. It's really crude.

2. In the past, my hometown lived in bungalows, and some people lived in straw houses. These short houses are dilapidated. When winter comes, the cold wind blows in, and it is as cold as an ice house. Few people live in brick houses, and the black smoke from the roof hangs over the sky, making people breathless.

You see, some houses are made of rosewood, and the houses are finely carved. When you step into the inner hall, you will smell the fragrance of rosewood, and some eaves are slightly worn out, as if telling people that they have a long history.

We followed my aunt to a shabby old house with four or five rooms and two floors. The ground floor room is made of nearly 1 m stone with earth walls on it. The stone is a little black, and the earth wall is mottled, as if telling the age, and some doors are gone. We climbed the crooked wooden stairs carefully. The walls of the room on the second floor were made of wooden boards and all were black.

Many houses are built of tiles, grass and stones. In my home, there is only a small black and white TV, and the TV images are very colorful. There are only a few shabby old wooden beds in each room. There is no electric light at night, and it is dark at home. You can only light oil lamps or candles The kitchen is small and damp. To cook, always add firewood. Add a fire. When the fire goes out, you have to blow the bamboo tube on the stove. There will be a lot of smoke when blowing, and the whole kitchen smells of smoke, which makes people cry and cough.

I heard from my father that my hometown used to be poor. People live in dilapidated thatched houses and dilapidated tile houses, and tiles are everywhere on the roof. Some are good, some are bad. When it rains, there are raindrops everywhere in the house. At that time, schools were all used, and they were all built with broken buildings. In winter, cold air blows into the house, which makes people feel bitter.

7. A shabby brick house came into view, and several children of similar age were playing around it. Take a closer look, it turns out to be playing with some puppies! Those puppies are tied to the telephone pole in front of the brick house, which is why those children dare to be so bold.

8. The shabby mud house was empty except for a small black-and-white TV that said "Donate somewhere".

9. I saw a low and shabby old house standing dangerously next to strangers. The smoke from the kitchen curled up from the back of the old house, like a white silk that kept dancing, slowly climbed to the top of a big tree and wrapped it silently.

10. I remember that this house was designed by my father. He used some cabinets to divide the old house into a kitchen and a bedroom. There are not many things in the bedroom, an electronic organ, a warm kang and a shabby round table. This is where the three of us eat.

5. What are the sentences describing the old house? 1, who gave him a brief wandering, who gave him a lifetime memory, only my old house knows;

Only you know who will erode the night with tears and who will give their hearts to tomorrow.

It was near noon when I entered the village. After turning several hutongs, I approached the old house. At first glance, blue bricks and red tiles, cement-based, lime hit the top. Although mottled walls and swaying grass can be seen everywhere, I have gone too far many times and haven't seen the broken scene in my mind.

3, the smoke is still, the body of civil structure withers in the sunset, the fire in the kitchen is burning again, spitting the warmth of a room. In this old house, many years ago, my grandmother knitted a poor life with chapped hands, which warmed my cold soul and lit up my childhood life. The old heatable adobe sleeping platform has been fragmented, with old knife marks on the threshold and dust on the wall. Now, I'm sitting in the old house, but I can't see its owner. I leaned against the old house, leaving only two lines of clear tears on my old cheeks. Although the old house is old, it is still an indelible memory in my life.

The old house in my memory accompanied my childhood and adolescence. I heard that it was built in the spring of the year when I was born. In the northeast of the village, it seems that at first it was just a lonely row of five north houses, and there was nothing else. Later, the wing was gradually built, not to mention the neighbors. Although it is only a row of five rooms, it is said that it has also caused a sensation in the whole village and even the surrounding villages. It is said that it is only because there are many brick columns and red tiles. Because most of the houses built in the village were made of clay or even mud.

I looked blankly, and the old house stood quietly. The broken wall supports the broken roof, like an elderly mother staring at her long-lost son, speechless at each other. The scene in front of and behind the house, the busy figure of my mother in the hospital, the dusk when my father came back from herding cattle, seemed like yesterday, and I was like a kite flying high and far in the sky. My old house is a beautiful hand holding a kite string. It always appears in my dreams at night, arousing my homesickness. Now I am outside my dream, and my old house is in my dream.

6, mottled walls, enduring graffiti; Rusty windows are used to laughter and noise; The dilapidated gate guards one fairy tale after another.

7. Crossing the sleeping stone sill, I found that the door of the old house was short. Touching the slip marks I walked through, I saw the sail shadow of life, gone … Oh, the door leaf of the old house, why don't you sing any more? I remember sitting on your shoulder and spending every quiet night-growing up, so indifferent! I know everything will fall asleep. But until then, my eyes will keep watching, no matter where I am! Tonight, I write down the poem of life, just for you, the watcher of home. ...

8. Ripples paved the square sky, and the tiles with blue lake colors set each other off. The golden glory has precipitated the ancient years, and the green is still precipitated, just like the jade in the pearl plate. Clouds in the sky are like soft feathers, floating in summer. Leaning against the drooping green willows jumping with the wind, they are intertwined and separated harmoniously, as if telling each other's thoughts. There is shade in front of the house, and osmanthus blossoms on the moss stone steps. A courtyard is intoxicated, a courtyard is fragrant …

9, khaki walls, look closely at cracks, the wind penetrated, filled with cold, and expanded my heart. Once upon a time, your full posture appeared in the wind, solid and airtight. And when is the residual temperature in your hand no longer warm? Ask yourself, I'm asking you. Is it too long to wait? I reached out and touched it, and the thick layers of ash on the log table suddenly became public in the air. Makes me cough. I hear your faint breath, such a subtle and heavy sigh. I touched my face and found a wet feeling. Sorry, old house! I saw a girl running around the yard, just like me. You are laughing heartily, and the curve of your face is very soft. Suddenly the girl disappeared, your eyes glazed over, you were bound and locked in the years, and you gradually lost your manners.

10, the old house is in ruins. Pushing open the creaking wooden door, you can see weeds in the yard, half a person's height. The wall of Westinghouse has collapsed, the sun is shining directly on the heatable adobe sleeping platform, and some people are miserable.

The house in the east is still there, but there are many leaks and it is uninhabitable. There are still clear marks on the wall that we scribbled with a brush when we were young. When we opened the door, the room was in a mess, and the newspaper posted on the top window was tattered and dusty. The corner has been covered with bits and pieces of cobwebs, but the spiders have dried up and hung there. The dust on the kang is as thick as the joints. Seeing this scene, I really feel like a lifetime ago.

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