Poetry composition 300 words

In our daily study, work and life, everyone has heard of or used some classic poems. Poetry has the characteristics of highly concise language and short and pithy length. Are you still looking for excellent classic poems? The following are six 300-word poems I compiled. Welcome to read the collection.

Poetry composition 300 words 1 When I first saw you under the peach tree,

I know you are my robber.

I am emotionally ignorant,

I don't know what that feels like yet,

I always feel itchy,

I can't help wanting to see you and talk to you,

I like your brave smile,

When I see you smiling,

The whole world is your shadow,

I can't hear any other sound.

Then, when you leave,

I can't tell you not to leave,

I can only hide in the quilt and cry secretly at night.

Don't want you to go.

While waiting, I comforted myself from the beginning.

At the end of running away from home,

All I know is that I miss you very much,

Want to stand in front of you and say:

That silly old girl has grown up.

But when I found you,

You don't need me anymore,

You are more handsome than before,

There are more and more people around,

I can't look back at you anymore,

I want to be with you,

A quiet life every day,

Feel everything around you,

Want to leave your shadow in my heart,

I stayed with you for a short time,

For others, for a long time,

For three years, I've let myself be willful for so long,

Now it's time to leave,

Sometimes unrequited love is the best.

If you get it, you should cherish it.

I want to go with this beautiful woman,

Maybe many years later, we can meet again,

At that time, maybe we will find each other's happiness.

I'm in the sky,

I'm in the water,

I didn't mean to see you,

It's raining in Mao Mao,

Ripples in the water,

Not because of you.

A sudden encounter,

In the endless years,

Let me stop and love you,

It's just an accidental sentence,

Your gentle words,

Make me stop thinking about you.

It was Jurassic, with beautiful wings,

It was an ice age, a transparent body,

In your arms, listening to your breath,

Hug you tightly with my thoughts,

This is a drunken dream in my sleep,

It was a warm memory after waking up,

Thorough, stormy,

On the rolling clouds, in the bumpy waves,

Tangle, together

I want to fly to the sky,

I want to swim underwater,

I didn't mean to see you,

The sky is full of colorful clouds,

It's bottomless,

You weren't there,

A sudden encounter,

In the endless years,

Let me stop and love you,

It's just an accidental sentence,

Your gentle words,

Make me stop thinking about you.

That is the tacit understanding of happiness in eyes,

Right between your fingers, sad parting,

I want to love you, I want you,

Hug you tightly with my thoughts,

That's the joy in your arms,

This is a useless memory of the journey.

After many years, I brought it up again.

I have forgotten about you and myself,

I forgot myself.

We are just, birds and fish,

Across the sky, underwater,

Thinking about you.

……

The first love after China's entry into WTO is the mother's milk and the sweet spring in my hometown.

Dandelions are beautiful, and nursery rhymes spread in the breeze.

The sun is shining, and the land is consistent with the skin color of the cultivator.

Every plant has the aura of the earth.

The soul is a seed, with the breath of the native land.

That land is barren and rich.

They are all true ecological and cultured people in their hometown.

Grind every plow and sickle in the soil.

Mountain roads and cooking smoke are the most beautiful curves in my hometown.

Home is in the bird's nest, and hope is in cicada wings.

Was carried away by dreams.

There lived a humble bodhisattva in the small temple at the entrance to the village.

The pious incense is strong. But my heart betrayed.

Ran away with a strong local accent.

But homesickness is inseparable from the breeze and white clouds in my hometown.

There is no hope.

Rooted here, three souls and seven spirits worship.

This stone is my ancestor.

My hometown is my attachment as a mother.

Yan holds the spring mud and waits for the eaves of his hometown.

Swallows fly higher than me.

They always go back to their hometown in spring.

I can't. It's just a dream.

My thoughts are stuck in the rivers and mountains of my hometown.

Poetry composition 300 words 4 leave youth in the afternoon, who is fascinated by the sunshine all over the street?

There is no trace of waiting, still in vain.

Mottled green memory, full childhood.

Open the yellowed book, and those gentle words of the past years are the autumn with cold water.

Without losing rhythm

But it runs out of endless sighs.

The final assembly is deep, and the appearance of an adult will make people look ridiculous.

Warm ocean currents from the heart drift away with forgetting.

If youth is a painting suitable for four seasons.

I hope I can draw the outline with the waiting ink.

Dates, never, never be colored.

Or, simply enjoy loneliness.

Even forget the date.

Stop dreaming, there is a shallow smile at the corner of your mouth.

Miss you, my heart will only be firm.

There are too many daydreams lost in the wind.

If you are silent, sooner or later there will be rotation and wandering, calm and loss.

Our youth is waiting without shadow.

Chasing carefree, the shadow of riding carries the perfect dream of the past.

However, we really don't see the growing back.

Those outdated dates and youth

It's like you laughed for a little while. Who hasn't thought about writing a book?

Poetry composition 300 words 5 cut the wind and shine in the sun.

Between the hourglasses,

Pick out scattered time.

Pick up the drizzle in Qingming Festival with a can of blue after rain.

Moss is like a blanket,

Let the wind, sunshine and time slip away from your fingertips.

Cooking on a dark blue flame,

Water vapor rolls up,

Vaguely caught a glimpse of the scattered and green figures of those years,

And breaking promises.

Accompanied by a delicate and soft female voice, it is the most familiar.

But the cool, cold melody,

"The ceremony is irreversible, and the wind and rain are like years."

Very distant words, inexplicably familiar.

A girl is running in the snow in a skirt.

"Look around" is like a young rabbit.

I really can't come back if I am separated.

"Clothes are not as good as new, and people are not as good as old."

This is an old joke.

Snow covered the deep and shallow memories of those years.

The autumn wind is coming again,

You can't blow the past back.

Time to cook rain, rain brewing time.

Is that intoxicating poison?

But why drink a toast? ...

When I was 6 years old, when I was just learning English with my teeth, my mother read poetry by my side. That's when I fell in love with poetry.

When I first went to kindergarten, the kindergarten teacher sometimes read a few ancient poems after class. I sometimes stayed next to the teacher and said a few poems gradually, but I only knew how to say this poem and didn't know the meaning of words and poems at all. But when guests come to our house, my parents always ask me to recite some poems, but at that time, my teeth were irregular and I missed a little. Now I want to laugh when I think about it.

Sometimes I don't understand the meaning of poetry, and my father will tell me the meaning of poetry at a specific time and place. For example, on a full moon night, let's talk about Li Bai's Thoughts on a Quiet Night. Tell me under what circumstances the author wrote this poem at that time, and then tell me the meaning. I nodded puzzled and said "Oh".

Dad sometimes tests me, so I pretend to say a few words of the poet, but they are basically wrong. Dad will pretend to be angry and want to hit me, but he will still bear to explain the meaning of this poem to me again so that I can understand it basically.

Thanks to my father's test, I won a sigh of relief for our class in the school's China Poetry Competition in the third grade of primary school and got a lot of points. Our class is naturally the first, and my personal grades are naturally the first.

Thank you for growing up with me; Thank you for the pleasure poetry brings me; Thank you for your poem, which gives our class a sigh of relief!