Fragmentary descriptive essay about father

1. A piece of composition about my father

I have a good father

My father is a man of few words. When he was with his mother, he would always hear his mother talking non-stop. His father would only smoke and occasionally respond, which was mostly just one or two words. When guests came to the house, my father would accompany them to dinner. He would neither let them drink nor persuade them to eat. It seems very impolite to only care about yourself and eat your own food. The same goes for us kids. He rarely interferes with our studies. He thinks that learning is our own business. If you ask him a question, he also says you should ask the teacher.

My father is a farmer, but in my eyes he does not look like a true farmer in many ways. My father finished elementary school and dropped out of junior high school due to poverty in the second grade. Then he and several companions ran to Baotou without telling his grandparents, and attended technical secondary school there for two years. Later, the school was disbanded due to the three-year natural disaster in the 1960s, and my father returned home and continued to be a farmer. My father could write very good calligraphy. Whenever there was a wedding or wedding for any family in the village, my father would be respectfully invited to be the accountant to keep track of members and so on. During the Spring Festival, my father was even more busy. The villagers all sent big red paper to my house early and asked my father to write Spring Festival couplets. Often before the Spring Festival arrives, my house is already filled with a festive atmosphere. I learned calligraphy when I was young, and my father asked me to learn to write letters to my uncle in Shandong. What format, how to call it, how to sign it, my father taught me step by step. Although I like his calligraphy, I haven't been able to practice calligraphy for a long time, and even now I still have no form or form. I would go home and drink with my father until I was happy. My father would always point at me and say, "You are the only one who is still a teacher in the Chinese Department, but your writing is not as good as a farmer like me." I could only smile and nod.

My father is a book lover. Every time he goes out, he always puts a book in his bag. If there is really nothing to read, I will bring a few newspapers with me. I remember that the books my father bought personally included the three-volume "Water Margin" published in 1975, the two volumes of "Stories of the Eastern Zhou Dynasties", "Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio" and "Three Words" by Feng Menglong. During the slack season, other men would play cards or gamble, while my father would sit on the kang and read a book. On rainy and snowy days, I read books all day long. My father's eyesight has been dazzled in the past two years. He bought himself a pair of spectacles and never forgot to read. Sometimes I take a closer look and see that the old man really looks like a scholar. When I returned home during the summer vacation this year, I rummaged through my bookcases and found a set of "Wonderful Views of Modern and Ancient Times" written by Old Man Baoweng in the Ming Dynasty. It was printed during the Daoguang period of the Qing Dynasty, but unfortunately one volume was missing. I said to him, give me this book. My father said okay, I couldn’t see anymore because I was dazzled. My father often said to me with emotion: "During the Cultural Revolution, all the books your grandfather left behind when he was a private school teacher were burned as firewood when I was cooking, for fear of getting into trouble. Otherwise they would be worth money now." I am also very emotional. Fortunately, our generation will not catch up with the era of "book burning" again.

Among the three children in my family, my father loves me the most. He says that I can sit still and be content. In winter, I ran around on the street all day long, sweating all over my body, and the cotton pants I wore were so hot that they became wet. Before getting up in the morning, my father always lit the stove early, then turned my cotton trousers over with his hands, and moved them closer to the stove to bake them little by little, shaking them slowly while roasting. After a while, I saw the cotton trousers on the stove. A wisp of heat rises. After the baking is finished, my father will use his two pairs of big hands to rub the cotton pants to make them soft. When I put it on again, I felt very warm. My father is a restless person. He often cleans my shoes and cleans them carefully every time. My father took out the bicycle I rode to school every day, and when I got home at night, my father stored it for me every time. It's his job to clean up the car and cheer him up. In his eyes, I seem to always be a child. The books I read when I was in school were all covered by my father himself and my name was written on them with a brush. I have been a teacher for so many years and I still have my high school textbooks intact. Sometimes I read him and say, "This book is useless. You should sell it." My father always said: "Let it go, let it go, you will regret it when the book is used." I went to college in Nanjing for four years, and every time my father wrote me a letter, the letter always ended by saying, "Don't miss it." Be concerned about money, eat well, and take care of your health.

He rarely told me to study hard, but after reading my father's letters, I naturally knew how to study.

Now, I have been a father for more than ten years. When my child was young, I beat him frequently because he was sick and refused to take medicine. When he got a little older, he received a lot of beatings from me because he didn’t like to go to kindergarten. Until now, when I don't do well in studies or exams, I always beat or scold my children. Thinking about my father's treatment of me, and then thinking about my treatment of my children, I feel really ashamed. My father and I see each other several times a year, and once we see him, he gets older. Isn't it? I'm almost forty, can my father not grow old?

In my eyes, my father is a silent person, a person who loves me and loves me, a person who loves reading and writing, and a person who guides more than controls. In my eyes, my father's image is very tall, and I have to look up to see him. I hope my father can live healthy and I am willing to be his child forever. 2. Excerpts from a composition about father’s love

Although my father is usually very strict with me. But I know how much my dad loves me. Dad's love is selfless and great.

One winter when it was snowing heavily and I got pneumonia, my parents held me and ran to the hospital step by step. When he arrived at the hospital, the doctor handed Dad a big iron plate and said, "Put the iron plate in your arms to keep it warm. The child will use it when taking a chest X-ray later." Without saying a word, Dad picked up his clothes and put the iron plate on it. On the chest. The mother hurriedly stopped the distressed woman and said, "Just a compartment vest." The father said, "It's okay. I'll just carry it. Don't let the child freeze when he uses it." It was so cold in the cold winter, but the father didn't hesitate to put the iron on. The board was placed on his chest. As soon as his father put it on, he was shaken by the ice, but his father just frowned and didn't make a sound.

That was what happened when I was a child. Tears well up in my eyes whenever I think of it. But I want to learn from my father’s strength and not shed tears, and turn the love my father gave me into the motivation to learn. Excellent results repay parents and their nurturing grace.

If it is said that maternal love is like water, then father's love is like a mountain. If it is said that maternal love is like a trickling stream, then father's love is like rolling clouds. Yes, father's love is like a mountain, tall and firm. Every bit and every drop of our father's love is worth savoring. Father's love, like mother's love, is the greatest love in the world. I can often experience the mountain-like father's love. 3. A composition describing the fragments of dad

Looking at my father, he seems to always be so tall; looking at my father, his shoulders seem to always be so safe; looking at my father, his shoulders are always so safe. The face always seems so kind; looking at my father... I don’t know when, looking up at my father has become a habit of mine.

When I was a child, I was my father’s follower. At that time, I was very active and couldn't sit still for a moment. I only knew how to play with my father everywhere. I held my father's big and warm hands tightly with my little hands. I felt the warmth of my father's palms warming me, and I didn't want to let go. open.

His two round eyes looked at his father’s back from time to time. Although my father is not very tall, even a little short and a little fat, he is straight and full of confidence and strength.

Looking up at my father's back, I now feel a sense of security. I feel that even if the sky falls, my father will be able to carry it for me. A surge of confidence surged in my heart, and I even raised my head unconsciously.

The calendar at home was torn out page after page and replaced one after another. I was full of confidence behind my father. After a few years of going crazy, I gradually left my father's side and made a group of friends of my own. Naturally, my friends replaced my father, and I spent my time little by little. In my friend's body, I forgot my father.

I looked up and saw my father. I imitated how I was when I was a child, but suddenly I found that my father was no longer what he used to be - my father was old! In my memory, my father's body was always upright at that time. He could no longer bear the burden of life and was slightly hunched. His back, which was always full of confidence, was weakened by the trivial things in life and looked slightly slender. A little hunchbacked.

When he walked past me, he reminded me of the fallen leaves in the autumn wind. When I hold my father's hand again, is it still the hand I am familiar with and the hand I miss? It was a pair of hands that were completely unfamiliar to me.

The shocking bulging veins on my hands hurt my soul, and the thick calluses on my palms vibrated my soul. Yes, I am growing up and my father is getting older.

My eyes are moist and my nose is sore. My father used his love, his health, and everything else to buy me everything I have today, but he never complained.

In adolescence, we were a little rebellious, which created a generation gap between the two generations, and we rarely had time to talk with him. But my father was working silently for us, and his back looked a little lonely. Maybe he didn't expect anything. Watching my growth, he felt comforted by the lack of words. This was the happiest thing for him.

As a daughter, how much have I done for my father? Even if I talk to him, I always say that I don’t have time. Looking up at my father again, I know that my father's devotion to me and his love for me are worth looking up to and repaying in my lifetime. In my heart, my father's figure has a height that no one can surpass. 4. Highlights of the essay on father's love

There is a kind of love that is silent and serious. It is often impossible to express it in detail at the time. However, the more you experience it in the days to come, the more you will appreciate it. The taste will never be forgotten for the rest of your life, it is the boundless father's love.

Father's love is actually very simple. It is like liquor, spicy and warm, making people drunk; it is like coffee, bitter and mellow, easy to cheer people up; it is like tea, plain and friendly, making people naturally refreshed; it is like a bonfire, giving people warmth and comfort. It's intimidating and easy to excite.

Father’s love is a ray of sunshine in spring, which shines warmly on me; it is a ray of cool breeze in summer, which blows away the heat in my heart; it is a ray of love in autumn. Strings of fruits guide me to success; they are a fire in winter, warming my cold heart. Father's love is everywhere!

Even if you are a master of painting, it is difficult to outline your strong backbone, father; even if you are a literary master, it is difficult to portray your unyielding spirit; even if you are open to all rivers, it is difficult to cover all your feelings, father. The love of children!

If I were a night traveler who traveled thousands of miles, my father would be a gentle light in the dark night, shining for me from afar, calling my hesitant footsteps; if I was just a lame person who regretted myself. As an actor, my father must be the warm applause, calling me for self-confidence and spurring me to work hard; if I were a playful little fish, my father must be the green lake. While tolerating my naughty and willful will, he will also My happiness spreads like ripples in circles... Father's love is the wind, blowing away all your worries; Father's love is the quilt, it makes you feel warm; Father's love is stinky tofu, it doesn't look good, but The fragrance is in your heart; father's love is a hero, because he is very great! Father's love is a mountain that surrounds us tightly so that we will not be harmed. Father's love is the air. No one can live alone without him. Father's love is a ship that carries us to a bright future. Father's love is the air that carries us to a bright future. Love is sunshine, gentle, bright, and extremely comfortable. Father is a stream, a river, and an ocean. The strange thing about father's love is that it is shy to express; it is not public, but it is majestic and solemn; but father's love has always affected us in a unique way. Because of the greatness of love, we ignore the existence and significance of father's love. Therefore, father's love is as high as a mountain and as broad as the sea.

If I are a grass, then my father used his own flesh and blood to rot under my roots, allowing me to grow vigorously; if I have feet, then every road I walk on The gravel paved by my father's body makes me walk more steadfastly; if I can stand up, then he must be standing on my father's shoulders.

If it is said that maternal love is like water, then father's love is like a mountain. If it is said that maternal love is like a trickling stream, then father's love is like rolling clouds. Yes, father's love is like a mountain, tall and firm. Every bit and every drop of our father's love is worth savoring.

Father's love, like mother's love, is the greatest love in the world. I can often experience the mountain-like father's love. Father's love is real, without fancy words or artificiality of intimacy. Father's love is heavy and cannot be expressed directly. Sometimes it feels like punishment. But father's love is in my heart: the deepest impression, the longest lasting effect, the most astringent feeling, and the greatest benefit. It is a high mountain, and children will always be under the protection of the mountain.

Father's love is a ray of sunshine that makes your heart feel as warm as spring even in the cold winter; father's love is a clear spring that makes your emotions remain pure and clear even if they are covered with years of dust. .

Father's love is as selfless as mother's love, and he does not ask for anything in return; father's love is an unknown and invisible feeling that only those who are attentive can understand. 5. Paragraph describing father

I said: "Dad, let's go."

He looked out of the car and said: "I'll buy some oranges. You can Don’t move around here.”

I saw a few sellers waiting for customers outside the fence on the platform over there. When you get to the platform over there, you have to cross the railway, jump down and climb up again.

My father is a fat man, so it would be more troublesome to walk there. I was going to go, but he refused, so I had to let him go.

I saw him wearing a black cloth cap, a large black cloth mandarin jacket, and a dark blue cloth cotton robe. He staggered to the side of the railway and slowly leaned down. It was not a disaster. But it was not easy for him to cross the railway and climb to the platform over there.

He clung to it with both hands and retracted his feet; his fat body leaned slightly to the left, showing an effort. Then I saw his back, and my tears flowed quickly. Came down. I quickly wiped away my tears.

Afraid of him seeing it, and also afraid of others seeing it. When I looked outside again, he had already hugged the scarlet orange and walked back.

When crossing the railway, he first scattered the oranges on the ground, climbed down slowly, then picked up the oranges and walked away. When I got here, I quickly went to help him.

He walked with me to the car and put a bunch of oranges on my fur coat. So he puffed away the dirt on his clothes, feeling very relaxed.

After a while, he said: "I'm leaving. I'll write you a letter over there!" I watched him go out. He walked a few steps, turned around, saw me, and said, "Go in, there's no one inside."

When his back blended in with the people coming and going, I couldn't find him anymore, so I came in and sat down. Next, my tears came again. 6. Excerpts from a composition about father's love

Parents rule the world. I have a hard-working mother and a strong father.

They all love me. I love them too.

But the only thing that disappoints me is that they are nosy. But when I think about it carefully, they are nosy for my own good.

I remember one time, I wrote an essay of more than a thousand words on my own initiative and sent it to the Shangdang Evening News, and received a royalties of 30 yuan. When I got home, I just thought my parents would praise me, but unexpectedly, I was scolded by my parents when I got home.

Since then, I have never published an article in the Shangdang Evening News. I still remember a time when my father became the person I most admired and admired in the world.

The thing is this: Because of the period of donating love, my father went to the square to donate blood. That time was tight, so my father donated blood one at a time, and observers still insist on it.

What a great father I have. He once educated me and said: "Daughter, please grow up quickly and donate blood when you grow up.

You have to know. You can save a person's life by donating blood once, even if you keep donating blood. Keep donating until you are on the verge of death, and someone will donate blood to you. Only then can you truly appreciate the kind of family love and help.

If you donate blood to others in the past, you will save tens of thousands of lives. You are the greatest person! I remember my father’s words forever.

Every time I get sick, my teacher and my mother are there to take care of me. Eyes, what I see is also my mother.

You said, she said to you in the rain: "My child, hold an umbrella and be careful not to get wet."

She said to you in the wind: "My child, mother hugs you so that you won't Catch a cold. "Do you know? My mother takes care of me even more than taking care of my own body.

But she always said to me: "My child, if I don't do this, I am not qualified to be your mother!" ah! Mom, you are the cloud above my head. dad! You are the umbrella above my head! You have conquered the world of our children! ! ! The love of parents is the greatest love in the world. Since we were born and came into this world, our parents have loved us forever.

Parents’ love is an innate love for their children, a natural love. It's like rain falling from the sky, so abundant that no one can control it.

The greatest, oldest, most primitive, greatest and most wonderful force that can maintain life is the love of our parents for us. The ancients said: "The thread in the hands of a loving mother is like the clothes on a wanderer's body.

There is a tight seam before leaving, and I am afraid that I will be late in returning. Whoever speaks of the heart of an inch of grass will be rewarded with three rays of spring."

Mother's love is like the bright sunshine in spring, bringing me warmth and light; mother's love is like a stable and calm umbrella in the strong wind, protecting me from wind and rain; mother's love always Help me when I am in trouble and give me motivation. That silky and continuous love has become my strong backing and makes me no longer feel empty every moment.

Father's love is profound and informal. My father's love always gives me the right guidance when I make mistakes; my father's love always gives me the right guidance when I encounter difficulties... If a mother's love is as profound as water, then a father's love is as profound as water. My love is as thick as a mountain.

Speaking of my parents, I feel infinite gratitude in my heart. My parents worked hard for my growth. How should I repay this kindness? Since I was a child, my parents have taught me how to do things and how to behave.

They told me about the 25,000-mile Long March, about Mao Zedong and Zhou Enlai, about Lei Feng and Dong Cunrui’s bombing of the bunker... They told me that I should be cautious in doing things and treat people well. You must be sincere, you must not lie, you must learn to be tolerant, you must learn to respect the old and care for the young, you must know how to repay kindness, and know how to accept no reward without merit... What is the purpose of all this? In the past, I always naively believed that it was natural for parents to take care of their children. Looking back now, I realize what a great spirit this is. Sometimes, I always wonder what kind of force is driving them. I don’t understand it, but maybe it is a kind of responsibility, a kind of spirit. Whether the love for children is selfless or compassionate, there is no doubt that they are indeed very good to us and take good care of us.

Take every day for example! Every morning, my mother makes breakfast for me, every noon, she makes lunch for me, and every night, she cooks dinner for me, but every time she eats, she is still working. When I was studying in the evening, my father came to tutor me again and taught me to do every question carefully and not to be careless. My parents educate me every day.

Every day like this constitutes our happiness. Every day like this is ordinary and extraordinary. Every day is a small matter, some is a big thing. Facing the parents' I should turn my gratitude into practical actions of filial piety for this kindness. Let us all love and care for our parents. 7. Describe the fragments of father's love

It is often said that father's love is like a mountain, tall and majestic; father's love is like a water, hidden deep; father's love is like a pair of hands, caressing us as we walk. Through spring, summer, autumn and winter; and father's love is a tear, a tear full of warmth.

When I was young, my father was a symbol of sternness. He was like an axe, trying to get rid of all my bad habits. My father often said: "You are just a tree. The tree will grow branches randomly. Now we must cut it off (2008- 06-13) I finished reading this touching article "Father" with tears in my eyes. The story is very cruel: In 1948, a father took his daughter to meet his wife in the United States. On the ship going there, The father was peeling an apple with a knife, and the boat suddenly shook violently. The father accidentally fell down, and the knife pierced his chest. The daughter screamed in fright. The father smiled and said, "It's okay, I just fell." "Then he slowly got up and unobtrusively wiped the blood on the knife with his thumb. In the next three days, the father still put his daughter to sleep every night and tied the bow for her in the morning, but every minute he was more The last minute was even more debilitating. On the eve of the ship’s arrival in the United States, the father said to his daughter: “Please tell mother that I love her. The daughter asked in confusion, "Why don't you say it yourself?" "He smiled. When the ship arrived at the port, the daughter recognized her mother at once and shouted: "Mom! "At this time, there was an exclamation all around. When the daughter turned around, she saw her father lying on his back, blood gushing out of his chest... A great father died tragically like this. This father used to prolong his life. In order to protect his daughter, he created a miracle of three days of life. The only power was his father's love. Although the knife penetrated his heart with great accuracy, he lived tenaciously for three more days for his daughter! The father fulfilled his duty to protect his daughter before he died, and died without regrets. Poor parents in the world! Every father has his own way of expressing his love for his children, some are silent, some are vigorous, some are meticulous, and some are caring. , but what they express is a kind of love that can move the world - fatherly love. Maybe you feel that your father is busy with work and does not care enough about you, but who can deny that your father expresses fatherly love with silent care? It’s too verbose for my father to ask this and that every day, but who can say that his father doesn’t care about you meticulously? The answer is: No one can! You can say that this story is dramatic, but the deep love is true. It's real. I think it's good. '~' should work'''