Listen to mom sing and talk about it.

In daily life or work and study, people often come into contact with composition, and people can achieve the purpose of cultural exchange with the help of composition. Do you know how to write a standardized composition? The following is a speech I compiled for you, written in the depths of my memory, hoping to help you.

There is a voice. Write 1 in the deep memory. The sounds of rain, wind and birds in nature compose a wonderful natural symphony. . The words, applause and songs in life have merged into a beautiful life concerto. But the voice that stays in my memory and I can't forget is the voice of my friends "Come on-Come on-".

In the autumn evening, the setting sun hangs gently on the horizon like a bright red duck egg yellow. Autumn wind is like a mother's soft and gentle hand. In the afterglow of sunset, the huge runway of the stadium is like an oil painting that knocks over a red bottle, full of vitality and appeal. The school held a sports meeting on this day. I signed up for the100m, 800m, 4 *100m running race. These three projects were chosen for two reasons. First of all, because I have a large lung capacity and a fast running speed. Secondly, due to the long interval between these projects, I have plenty of time to rest.

In the sports meeting, the running competition is the most intense, and there are also the most onlookers. My first event is 100 meter sprint. The race started well, but I didn't rush out when I sprinted. I missed the championship by a few seconds and won the second place. Followed by the 4 * 100m relay race, I ran the last leg. After the "bang" shot, my teammates were very powerful and soon came to my hand. The baton was very smooth. I held the baton tightly and began to run to the finish line.

There was a whirring wind in our ears, and the red line at the end became clearer and clearer in front of us. Just when I was ready to start sprinting to the finish line, the opponent next to me had already surpassed me first. Seeing that I was finished and losing, my heart suddenly sank. Why don't I give up? Anyway, I am behind and can't catch up. I was just thinking about it. There was a sudden shout in the crowd. This voice is neat and high-pitched, as if I was suddenly pulled out of the idea of giving up. I know this is my comrades and teammates cheering for me. Their voices, like magic, gave me a shot in the arm in an instant. The voice became clearer and clearer-"Come on-come on-".I was refreshed, took my legs and stepped up, and soon caught up with the shadow in front. Warm cheers, in line with my footsteps, make me run faster and faster, more and more rhythmic. Finally, when I was about to reach the finish line, I followed the footsteps of the first place and crossed the finish line and won the first place.

Although I only got the second place in the end, the sound of refueling is always printed in my memory. This voice makes me full of strength when I am depressed, and makes me choose to persist when I want to give up!

There is a sound, deep in my memory. From then on, no Qu Di voice can evoke my memory like this, and it is engraved in my memory.

-inscription

Green slate, red tiles on the house, an old pagoda tree in the yard and a bright moon in the sky are my only memories of my hometown.

The memory of childhood seems to have the flavor of hometown. Grandma said that I was very noisy when I was a child. Only at night, I will sit quietly in the rocking chair at the gate of the hospital like a little girl. It's just that in grandma's memory, I didn't find the lost memory. So, I came back, back to the hometown that once haunted me.

I quietly watched the last afterglow of the sun sink under the courtyard wall, when the fiery red sky was gradually rendered with a layer of sapphire blue, and the night finally came!

The moon, with its cold light, slowly climbed over the courtyard wall and penetrated into the tiles. Parthenocissus on the wall kept devouring the darkness of the wall, leaving only a little green. The moonlight poured down on the earth, and the old locust tree in the yard also cast a shadow, emitting a touch of sadness. However, I always feel something is missing here. At this time, a long flute came from the distance of the village. This sound is simple and pleasant, and its artistic conception is like a deep mountain valley, filled with an ancient and distant charm. Drunk in this flute, the door of memory finally opened to me.

In the milky moonlight, a small figure was lying on a rocking chair, and long eyelashes cast a shadow on her face. A little wind brushed her face and blew my hair, and the distant flute came into my ears and lingered in my heart. I fell asleep with the breeze and the bright moon. Oh! It is this dream, this night, that is getting farther and farther away from me.

How many years have you not returned to your hometown? How many years have you not heard this sweet flute again? I don't know myself. Time slipped through my fingers, moved on, and never looked back. The acre of wheat field behind the house is glittering at night. Unconsciously, that acre of wheat field accompanied me for a long time and carried a part of my happy childhood.

The long flute is engraved in the depths of my memory and can never be erased. I fell asleep, accompanied by this flute, with childhood memories and dreams of the future. ...

There is a sound, deep in the memory, stored in the warm sunshine like cotton, penetrating the seam of memory, and there is a sound, far-reaching but warm.

Remember, it's also such a summer day, and the transpiration of summer heat in the air is like the focus of a fire mirror, and people will be burned by the sun. I rode my bike home and there was a salty smell in the air. I licked my dry lips and picked up speed. I heard "I'm back!" Like continuous silk floss, it beats the familiar and clear rhythm, penetrates the gap of sunshine and penetrates into people's hearts.

That voice, like the rain, is full and clear, which leads to grandma's thin figure. He is wearing a big hat, his eyebrows are on the side, and his dark face is covered with sweat from work. Sunlight is unscrupulously sprinkled on her wrinkled face and condensed in her deep eyes, shining with warm light. She stood by the road, with a glass of water in her hand, waiting for me. "Come back!" This sentence again, like a distant and leisurely music, keeps spinning in the depths of memory.

Later, I began to study. On that day, I carried my bag and a roll of bright red on my back, cutting my inner depression and sadness, and slowly strolled home. Grandma heard my footsteps and said happily, "I'm back!" " The kind voice came from the depths of the long corridor, and I saw the short and chubby body in my vague sight. Her dark blue clean apron was like a naughty child, and my heart box was knocked open with a bang, and tears poured out. I couldn't see her expression clearly in the flickering tears, only to see her come in, reach out and carefully wipe away my tears, like caring for treasures. My clear eyes reflect her disheveled gray hair, lining her still dark face, emitting such a peaceful and kind light. In a trembling voice, she urged, "Don't cry, son, don't cry. I have something to talk to grandma." She stroked my back with a cocoon-covered hand. That kind of feeling, like the music she used to play, is familiar and clear, coming from the depths of a long memory, so calm, then calm, and finally moved.

Then, when I go to school in the city, my grandmother always says, "Come back early!" " "I promised, my heart gushed with infinite nostalgia, as if I saw grandma's old but kind face, which gave me comfort and courage.

Now, time still goes slowly, like warm sunshine on my heart.

Grandma, your gentle and kind voice came, and it bloomed in the depths of memory.

So I know that the voice of my family will linger in my memory forever.

There is a voice, written in the depths of my memory. I held up a long pole, rippling in the depths of my memory, and suddenly I heard a sound. I know, that's the voice of gardenia blossom-inscription.

In my heart, there is a voice that has no prelude and no end; There are only waves of water ripples that I have never seen before, as if there are a pair of invisible wings flying in my heart. The sky seems to have spilled a handful of milky white ink. When the wind blows, it will twist into countless clouds. Sunlight, like a wisp of silk, wittily glides through the branches, is refracted by light and shadow, and is thrown into the garden in front of the house, becoming a mottled door all over the floor. A penny that supports the years has crossed the long river of time. I remember that there is always someone who can depend on me deeply. I don't know if it's too cold or because of my own technology. I fell down more than once while skating, but I got up again and again. But this time, with a plop, I fell heavily on the ground, just like a dog gnawing mud. Let the cold wind hit me mercilessly on the cheek. God seems to be laughing at me. Suddenly he put on a black cloak, which made me breathless. Just when I was desperate, I turned around inadvertently, only to see you standing in the wind with encouragement in your eyes. I obviously feel a hot air stabbing in my heart.

At that moment, I obviously felt a stir in my heart. Are the seeds of gardenia going to sprout? Suddenly, my heart moved.

My whole body seems to be full of electricity, and the warm current has produced upward pressure in my blood. I quickly got up. I see clearly once again that your eyes are full of joy and encouragement from you. I tried to trust you again. It is the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River that carefully watered the gardenia in my heart. Maybe the dust washed away too fast. When I look back, you are still in your early years. No matter how the years go on, no matter how the world changes, your love for me will not break your little love to form a joint force of love, so that the gardenia in my heart can go boating on the lake. Inadvertently, I only heard a bang. I know that's the sound of gardenia blossoms, and that's the sound of gardenia blossoms. Your love continues. It's just that my spiritual journey took a nap at the post office and peeled off a piece of gardenia petals, all of which were white.

"Gardenia blossoms, gardenia blossoms, like crystal waves rippling in my heart; Gardenia blossoms, gardenia blossoms, it is a faint green and pure love. "

A voice in the depths of memory opened the title page of memory, and a most beautiful smiling face emerged. Those odds and ends of life have become the most beautiful songs, and your voice has always been in my memory.

-inscription

The morning sun rushes out of the clouds to welcome a new day. I hid under the covers and refused to come out, enjoying the warmth of the covers. But your voice broke all this beauty-"get up quickly, or you will be late!" " "I'm reluctant to get dressed and ready to go out after washing. You said I was careless and forgot to take my bag. I just gave a dull "Oh" and left with my schoolbag on my back. You said again, "Be careful when crossing the road." I just nodded and left. I am used to your advice every day, or I am tired of it, because I didn't understand it at that time.

It feels good to go home with the afterglow of the sunset. My heart floated with the gradually dispersed clouds until your voice changed my heart back to a place close to home-"Are you hungry, son?" I said my kindness, nodded, ate in a hurry and did my homework. While I was thinking with my finger biting, your voice rang again: "How old are you or are you biting your finger?" I blushed and put my hand on the table. I find this "reminder" too annoying every day, because I didn't understand your reminder at that time.

After finishing your homework, I just wanted to lie down and rest, and your voice rang in my ear again: "Have you finished your homework?" Then recite it! "I had to pick up the textbook and recite it again. After that, I took a bath and got ready for bed. Your voice says, "Go to bed early and get up early tomorrow!" " "I was about to slam the door when you whispered' good night'!" "My tears can't help but flow down. I think this is the most beautiful sound.

A person who does not know how to enjoy love, his conscience is pale; A person who does not know how to repay a debt of gratitude, his feelings are selfish. Mom, your voice has been branded in my heart, and your concern for me will never fade. Even if my memory begins to turn yellow, as long as I hear your voice, I will never forget the love you once gave me.

There is a sound. In my memory, the source of sound is you, my mother.

There is a voice, deep in my memory. Mom's singing voice is the most selfless and beautiful voice I have ever heard.

In fact, as long as I can remember, my mother seldom sings in front of others, even once or twice occasionally, she just hums a little song. Once, my mother and I went shopping in the mall. My tender little hand was held by my mother's slightly rough palm. Wherever she goes, I will go. Passing a video store, there is a big screen in front of the store, in which a singer is singing melodious songs. The song floated into the mother's ears, and her mother gradually recovered from her intoxication. At the end of the song, my mother slowly opened her eyes, continued to pull me, walked into the store and bought the CD that had just been played. Later, I learned that the singer singing on the screen was called Teresa Teng.

From small to large, I have my own ideas, singers I admire, and small boxes that belong to my collection. My mother has had all these, and she is most proud of her box full of celebrity CDs or photos. -mother said, this is her careful collection in the past twenty years, very precious.

But my mother loves to collect records, but she has never heard her sing, which makes me puzzled.

I'm afraid to ask my mom, just my dad. My father said that my mother is really a person who loves music. Before she got married, she loved singing and sang very well. But after marriage, especially after I was born, she began to take care of things inside and outside the house, do housework and go to work. It's hard, and songs are rarely sung. Finally, my father told me that her voice was faulty because of you. I was puzzled, but I didn't ask at the moment.

I really heard my mother's song at my adult ceremony on my sixteenth birthday. That day, my mother drank some wine, which showed that she was really happy. When friends and relatives went to sing together, she ordered a few songs. She sang, her voice still hoarse, but it sounded good, as if she had magnetism and magic. Everyone suddenly quieted down. After listening to her singing, everyone applauded her. At this time, I was suddenly awakened: this is the voice that accompanied me to sleep every time when I was a child. -This voice comes from the depths of my life memory! -I cried. ...

If maternal love is the most beautiful song in the world, then as a son, I will turn it into the longest note in the world and sing softly for maternal love!

There is a voice, deep in my memory. I haven't eaten well since I was a child. My father often goes out to work, and my mother brings back some semi-finished clothes from others every month to make. The "click" sound of sewing machine has become one of the deepest memories of my childhood.

In order to make my mother do less work every day, I undertake some housework. Little me, I began to be like a little adult, learning to help my mother cook, sweep the floor, wash dishes and wash clothes ... and my mother threw herself on that old sewing machine all day, weaving our family dreams with her hardworking hands.

But this ordinary peasant woman, who is busy making clothes all day, is not careless about my education. Besides telling me the importance of learning, her favorite principles of being a person are: not stealing, not robbing, not lazy and not greedy. When I was a child, I once violated her "four noes" taboo. I remember when I was in primary school. One day I was playing at my neighbor's children's house and took a fancy to her plush doll, the rogue rabbit. Rabbit? Doesn't it just fit my animal sign? So, willy-nilly, I unexpectedly invited the rabbit to my home! The ending was naturally a tragedy: my mother grabbed the tailor's ruler and slapped me hard. Mother's tears fell on my red palm. I'm really scared and I regret it. My crying with complex emotions finally melted in the more urgent "da da" sound.

Nowadays, in order to increase the family income, my mother has also entered the clothing factory. But after a hard day, she always refused to be idle and still took some clothes processing work home to do. In order to improve production efficiency, a new type of motor has been added at home, and the sound of "da da" can always fill the gap in mom's life. Occasionally sewing things, I will also use that old sewing machine-the tone of "da da" is still the same, but it sounds desolate. Stepping on the red rust pedal will make a sound of "creak, creak, creak-",as if to say, "Oh, I'm getting old before I know it ..."

Yes, the sewing machine is old and my mother is old, but what is not old is the cheerful "da da" sound in my heart, which is my mother's smiling face looking forward to life. The sewing machine is the earliest big machine I know in my memory. Its "da da" sound once warmed my childhood, and it will surely echo on the echo wall of time.

There is a sound that can only be found in the depths of memory, and that is the murmur of running water. ...

-Inscription

"Rush"-Wei's long-lost sound of running water on TV reminds me of it. Today, it occurred to me that I must look for the sound of the running river that has been left in my memory and is rarely heard!

Who knows, I just met a problem when I went out-the city is no better than the country, and it is a bit difficult to find a real running river. Helpless, I had to ride my bike and come to the park.

I seldom have such an "elegant mood" to play and walk in the park. This time, I slowed down and enjoyed the beautiful scenery of the park. Appreciation belongs to appreciation. I haven't forgotten the first task. Look, there is a bridge. There is an old saying: "A small bridge flows with water." I think I can definitely find a river near the bridge.

Sure enough, a small river came into view, but what about the sound of running water I was looking for? I'm going to look for it by the river, but before I get close, a stench comes on my face. I covered my nose and took a closer look. What I saw really surprised me. There are all kinds of fish and shrimp bodies floating in the river. Their bellies are facing up, and their white bellies are in sharp contrast with the turbid river water. The vegetation on both sides of the river has withered. Where's the energy in my memory? It's lifeless! Not to mention the sound of running water, basically no!

I can't believe my eyes. I ran like crazy to the source of the river. Upstream of the river, I found the culprit. That's a huge drainage ditch, and the black and smelly sewage is constantly discharged. That's the drainage ditch of that paper mill.

I sat on the ground, my heart was full of loss and disappointment. In the past, the river in my hometown was crystal clear and flowing, which was a paradise for people. But now people put public utilities in the first place, and the sewage from paper mills is discharged into the river, which leads to the depletion of vegetation, the death of fish and shrimp and the stench.

How much I miss the sound of running water, but with the deterioration of the environment and people's attitude of "man can conquer nature" regardless of the living environment, this crisp and pleasant sound of running water has gradually disappeared.

If human beings don't protect our living environment, natural sounds like the sound of running water will remain in our memory forever.

There is a sound, which is heard in the depths of memory, and it is the sound of the wind blowing; Listen, that's the voice of students reading; Listen, that's the voice I remember.

-inscription

In my memory, there are many pictures blurred by time. The voice that once knocked on my heart has been ringing in my ears, and with the pictures hidden in the depths of my memory, my eyes are slightly moist and my heart is filled with emotion.

At that time, I was only six. My mother gave my hand to the teacher and promised to take me home after school. "Jingle bells ..." One day passed. I sat in the classroom waiting for my mother to pick me up, and my classmates were picked up by my parents one after another. I waited anxiously. Through the window, the sun has set, and there is still the afterglow of the sun in the sky. After waiting for a long time, my mother still didn't come. I have to look around the school gate. I just hope my mother will appear in the blink of an eye. But god didn't do what I wanted. An idea flashed through my mind: go home by yourself. I was shocked by my own thoughts. After all, I have never left my mother's arms since I was a child. I began to hesitate, but finally decided to go back by myself. As soon as I took a step, my feet shrank back for fear of being caught by the bad guys. Looking at the school gate, suddenly, I was attracted by the novelty of the street and stepped out of the school gate, without the fear and hesitation just now. I think it's a child's nature.

Walking, a zebra crossing appeared in front of me. As soon as I got out, a car flew towards me, and I quickly shrank my feet back. When there was no car, just a few steps later, a red car came towards me, which scared me to step back quickly. I haven't been there several times in a row. Watching all kinds of pedestrians pass by quickly, I don't want to help at all I stood on the side of the road and couldn't help feeling the indifference of pedestrians. Just when I was about to cry, suddenly a hand patted me on the shoulder, and then I seemed to hear a heavenly voice in my ear: "Little sister, what's wrong with you?" Are you lost? " Come on, tell my sister. "There are such good people in the world. I pointed to the opposite side and said, "Sister, I want to cross the road. But I am afraid. " "Come, take my sister's hand and let's go together. "As soon as I pull my sister's hand, I feel that her hand is very warm. Then my sister took me home. We talked a lot along the way, but we didn't remember anything except her voice.

Listen, there is a voice, from the depths of my memory.

There is a voice that Cinderella who writes down midnight 10 in her memory will always remember the "tick" representing twelve o'clock, which will make her fade from the gorgeous "tick"; Snow White will always remember the "tick" of the auditorium bell when the prince kissed her. There is still a "tick" in my heart.

Tick-tock is the sound of raindrops hitting me. I was very dependent on my family when I was a child. One day after school, it was raining cats and dogs. Really, my mother reminded me to take an umbrella this morning. How could I forget? Someone will pick me up anyway. I waited left and right, but I couldn't wait for the familiar figure. Time passes through my fingers, the night engulfs the earth, and the rain is still falling. The more I wait, the more I want to cry. After some ideological struggle, I decided to go home by myself. I ran home in the rain, and the rain ticked on my face. After 7789 difficulties, I finally found you. With doubts and grievances, I pushed open the door, only to see a pair of red-eyed eyes ... it was still raining ... "Tick-tock".

"Tick-tock" This is the sound of sweat falling. When I was older, the school sports meeting appeared. I can't believe I misreported 800 meters. On the day of the competition, the PE teacher told me to run four laps, and I was shocked. Physical education class usually gets tired after running one lap, but now he has to run four laps. How should I report this? Forget it, bite the bullet ... with a bang, I held my breath and started my "journey to hell" On the first lap, I'm so tired ... Let's go for a while ... No, it's the honor of the class ... What should I do on the second lap ... Will I faint? On the third lap ... no, I'm tired ... I want to sit for a while ... I just wanted to stop, but I heard the cheers of my teachers and classmates. I don't know what makes me run again. Come on! Sweat rolled down my face. On the fourth lap, I felt like I was going to collapse. Close to the finish line, the audience was silent, and I heard my own sweat "tick-tock" falling. ..................................................................................................................................................

"Tick-tock" This is the sound of the minute hand turning. Facing the first big exam in my life, I can't help but feel confused. All kinds of pressures are on me like a flood. Time is the most important thing for the graduating class, and we can't afford to delay for a moment. I am not smart, so I can only make up for it with diligence. Burning the midnight oil has become a habit, and so has listening to the "tick" sound of the alarm clock. I am ready to enter the examination room. When I came out, I knew I had won.

Tick-tock has taught me to be independent, persistent and cherish time, which has long been deeply rooted in my memory. ......

There is a voice, deep in my memory, only the faint afterglow of the sunset on the horizon, cold, that voice rings in my ear. Long-lost voice, lingering in my ear again. ......

The first time I heard this sound, it was wonderful, like yellow leaves scattered all over the ground in autumn being crushed, like a sand ball being rubbed, and like a strong wind blowing a layer of sand. "Sand ... sand ..." My restless heart suddenly became extraordinarily calm. ......

Summer vacation is in full swing, it is more comfortable to have a small fan, drink cool drinks and play some small games.

"Ah, I lost again, and I gave too little time." Just when I was complaining about the game, "Hey, it's my turn to play, please get out of the way." My sister ordered me in a leading tone.

"Why, I just played, it hasn't been ten minutes. You play every day, and I'll give it to you later. What shall I play? " I am very dissatisfied.

"Get out of the way, I don't have time to be here with you!" My sister gave an impatient shout.

I stubbornly sat in front of the computer, not playing games, but I didn't want to get out of the way. At this moment, my sister standing by pulled me down from the chair like an angry tiger. I sat heavily on the ground, my back hit the corner of the table, and a pain spread in my back spine. I turned to look and found a big piece of red. I took an angry look at my sister, stood up and ran out.

The feeling of pain makes me want to cry, but my tears are stubborn and unwilling to flow. I sat on the edge of my neighbor's flower bed, and the scenery in front of me suddenly became dim. The afterglow of the sunset reflected on my face, and the tears in my red eyes were particularly bright.

When I think of those things just now, I feel inexplicably complicated, annoyed and sad, and I have an unspeakable feeling. "Sand ... sand ..." This long-lost voice rings in my ear, and I am familiar with it. I gradually listened. I lost those worries and sorrows, those unspeakable feelings, and my heart suddenly became calm.

"Hey, go home." Looking at a figure in the distance, I stood up and went home slowly. ......

The afterglow behind me added the last touch of sadness to the ending that we couldn't rewrite, but the voice that rang again told me what my inner feelings were, and it was heartfelt forgiveness.

That kind of voice, deeply hidden in my memory, makes me cheerful and calm every time I am upset and confused. ......