Sacrifice to sweep the outstanding composition of Qingming

In study, work and even life, everyone will inevitably come into contact with or use composition. According to the characteristics of writing proposition, composition can be divided into propositional composition and non-propositional composition. I believe many friends are very upset about writing a composition. The following is the excellent composition I collected for you (General 10), I hope it will help you.

Sacrifice to Qingming Excellent Composition 1 It's another Qingming Festival, and it's drizzling, just like endless tears. Cold, long and lonely. I once enjoyed the poem "Petals fall like tears and lonely birds sing their sadness". Sad and sentimental; Chewing the homesickness of "the hometown is heartbroken, and the wicker is new day and night"; Appreciate the pleasing beauty of "ten thousand willows belong to a warbler" ... Throughout the ages, some people think that Qingming is a time of grief and helplessness, while others say it is an indelible miss. I want to say that Qingming is a quiet resting place, with silent flowers, sunshine and rain, your persistence and eternity.

Smashed memories, full of emotions in the mud, curtains hanging in childhood dreams. Blue bricks and white tiles, an old couple covered with thin and bright sunshine, snuggled up and sat by the river picking leaves, their hands soaked in water. Green leaves reflect water and green space as quickly as emeralds, as if decorated with gold. I crouched in the corner, watching them whisper to each other, as if playing back in slow motion, but somehow, every time Grandpa spoke to his wife's ear, Grandma would laugh like a summer flower and give her a firm nod.

In this way, there will always be an old couple who have never been separated in the rice fields at sunset, and their feelings are still as pure and youthful as when they first met. Until the third year I came here, I never saw the warm back again, and even the groans of crows at dusk melted in the depths of the lonely house.

After that, I only met my grandfather himself, only to know that my grandmother went to heaven to wash vegetables and leaves. He didn't live in chaos. Every day, he comes to the river with a small wooden basin. At the same time and place, he stared at the water, as if communicating with his grandmother in the sky with his eyes. His hands rubbed gently, and his leaves were green and shiny. Unconsciously, his mouth lit up slightly. Every time I go to Tomb-Sweeping Day, my grandfather always goes to the tombstone alone, sits quietly, and complains to my grandmother in a quiet afternoon. Only they know once. ...

Another year is clear, the green lake has no trace of wind, and only scratching raindrops are writing eternal music. Your sadness is a silent world and paradise, emitting eternal fragrance. I seem to see two old men holding hands and stumbling. Your love is not short-lived and false, but long-lasting, sincere and tacit understanding of mutual trust.

As Wang Guozhen once wrote "I Wish", your love, though not magnificent, is as refreshing as green tea, and it will last for a long time in Micari. Your love will not rot with the decay of the world, and your love will live in my heart forever.

You know, the whole world has waited for you for too long and cried helplessly. You know, we wander around the world, but we can't find your paradise. You know, how many pairs of eyes are waiting for you, you know, we are attached to one person and linger.

Violet laity who is full of lofty sentiments, dreams like horses, loves green mountains and green waters, and loves cooking smoke. Li Taibai, who loves dreaming and thinking, has few secrets. A poet who doesn't love the beauty of mountains and rivers and prefers to drink the bright moon alone. Li Bai, an elegant Bohemian boy in a white shirt.

Do you still remember that the clouds need clothes, flowers and capacity, and the spring blows the threshold? Do you remember that lonely time? I raised my cup and asked the bright moon to bring me my shadow, so that we could become three people. Do you remember this serenade? Who doesn't miss home? Remember that catkins fly all over the sky, and only flying accounts for the resentment willow?

Have you ever complained about your drift from place to place? Have you ever hated the twists and turns of people's hearts? Have you ever laughed at your surging legend?

Yang Yuhuan, if she just turns her head and smiles, has a princess who is puzzled and will never be forgotten. Pretend to be a tall Gao Lishi, and you may not forget it. Tang Xuanzong, the fatuous and shallow king, will not even be forgotten.

But since you can write, since God has given you a gift, let it work! S quatrains, have you ever been bound by the world?

Your bumpy experience, your depressed death, your poems and your people are all the most magnificent myths in the eyes of literati, and you are their god.

They love your frankness, their awe of power, their love for your light wealth and heavy use, their love for your touching poems, and their love for your brilliance and extraordinary temperament.

This kind of melancholy loneliness, which is clear and catkins are as light as smoke, is gradually disappearing. The only way is to pick a bunch of white chrysanthemums to pay homage to the epic you wrote. The only way is to fall into Li Bai's clear feelings again.

Sacrifice to Qingming Excellent Composition 3 This year's Tomb-Sweeping Day is also normal, with drizzle and a little water vapor, just like a white plot. Early in the morning, I set foot on this cemetery carefully, feeling a little uneasy, not gloomy and fearful as I imagined, but more silent. Graves and stone tablets, large and small, are arranged closely and orderly, like a group of friends who have made friends for many years, having a long talk. The inscription on the tombstone is clear, vague and dying. The endless graves are close together, and they are harmonious. They won't disturb their hearts because of trivial things in the world. There is no envy, jealousy, love and hate, they just stick to the blossoming yellow flowers, and they are willing to meet silence through it.

The beating flame greedily licked a piece of paper money, so ruthless that even a piece of paper scraps would not be let go. The people in the tomb are people outside the tomb, and the people outside the tomb are people in the tomb after all. The two generations in the tomb, separated by decades, are communicating silently in the way of inheriting the Millennium, igniting grief for each other. No matter whether the people in the tomb are right or wrong, what is left to outsiders is homesickness. Outsiders wander alone in the world, looking for a paradise that may belong to them. This nostalgia fades with the ripples of the years ... but what will a person look like after reincarnation? What will be left?

A culture can be passed down for thousands of years, but it has a long history, extensive and profound, and has its own way of life. Living in a bustling city and shuttling through the floating sea of people, it is difficult to find a soul that can be as quiet as the ancestors of the ancients. Everyone is taking the last step towards their own pure land. Now, why don't we cherish everything we have and water the flower of success with your sweat?

There is no shortage of beauty in the world where people live. Beauty is always created by people everywhere, often by others, such as sweeping graves. I created this beauty, and those undead are enjoying it. You can't come back from the dead, but you have to leave something behind. We also want to thank the dead in the tomb, leaving many beautiful things for the world. But looking back at yourself now, will it continue to rise and fall in the future? Is confusion our destiny? No, it's hard for me to realize the value of life without a blank experience. One doesn't have to have a sustenance to survive in the world. If your life is wonderful, you can laugh without regrets when your descendants express their grief at the grave.

Born without regrets, died without regrets.

"Dangdang-"The dull bell echoed in the cemetery with the heavenly Sanskrit sound. Mourning against the ethereal, the sound of urging rain, a drop of worry flows into my heart. I am shocked by the penetrating power across time and space. I want to write a beautiful chapter of my life by myself. I will stand here and wait for you to understand the wisdom of life.

Excellent composition of Qingming Festival 4. China's national flag is half-hung, and the whole country shares the same sorrow. At ten o'clock in the morning, the air defense alarm sounded. Three minutes, grief filled the heart, three minutes, the alarm resounded through China. The hero's motherland and the hero's people have written an epic chapter in the history of mankind against the epidemic.

In winter, the cold wind is fierce, the sky is gloomy and the city loses its vitality. In the hospital, white clothes reflect the lights, like angels, like soldiers, like hope. They are angels in white, soldiers in white and people's guards.

"Behind me, there are nurses fighting the epidemic ..." Armed reporters stood in front of the camera, followed by medical staff coming and going. They are wearing white protective clothing and goggles, and they are in a hurry and look firm. They are angels who fight against diseases. They walked past the camera without nostalgia. "Sorry, time is pressing. For us, it is important to rob people with death and save lives. " A nurse was stopped for an interview, then turned away and disappeared into the white crowd.

They are angels in white, frontline soldiers of wars and epidemics, and national heroes!

"The epidemic is an order, and prevention and control is a responsibility. How can you regret it? " A post-90 s nurse said with a smile. "Gouli country life and death, or avoid it because of fortunes? If the country has difficulties, we should support it. " She smiled, but her face was tired. "For convenience, our female players all cut their heads." She took off her hat a little shyly. "It seems not as good as before, but I don't regret it. This is my medal. " "Very handsome, very cute. Would you like to cut your hair at that moment? " Tears for you in the eyes of reporters. "What's the reluctance? I am desperate. What's the use of my hair? " When she said this, she smiled indifferently. The reporter listened to her laughter and her voice choked: "You will always be the loveliest people." Looking at her smile, the reporter cried.

They are angels in white, fearless and brave soldiers, warriors and heroes!

"Grandpa, do you know who we are?" A nurse asked, holding the hand of an old man with mild Alzheimer's disease. The old man is about to recover and leave the hospital. The old man's eyes lit up and his lips trembled slightly, saying, "You are the Jiangsu team, lovely." Say that finish, excitedly raised his hand, stood up trembling, tried his best to straighten his bent back, trembling, and gave a military salute to the white soldier in front of him. A drop of glittering and translucent tears, across his ravine face, dripping on the hands holding crutches. The nurse quickly picked up the paper and gently wiped away the tears for the old man. Her voice choked instantly: "Don't worry, we will fight the epidemic to the end." She stood at attention and gave a military salute in return.

They are heroes, fearless, selfless and not afraid of sacrifice. They are angels, soldiers and the most lovely people.

The global epidemic has brought winter to mankind, and the aura of angels in white shines on the whole world. Winter will definitely pass, and spring will definitely come. They are angels in white, warriors in white, and guardians of mankind. With them, mankind will tide over the difficulties and usher in a better tomorrow.

Tomb-Sweeping Day is a traditional festival in China. Sacrificing ancestors is one of the themes in Tomb-Sweeping Day, and sweeping graves is an important form for people to remember their ancestors.

Then, let me talk about how our family pays homage to our ancestors. First of all, prepare biscuits, sugar, meat and other foods, as well as incense, big candles, paper money, and some paper shoes and clothes.

We began to sweep the grave. This time, we visited grandpa, grandpa and grandma's grave. We began to climb the mountain, and the road was overgrown with weeds, and finally we reached grandpa's grave. After putting things down, the adults began to cut the grass in front of the grave, clean up the dead leaves beside the grave, clean them up, put the sacrifices on the table and began to worship and burn incense. Don't start burning paper money until the incense burns almost, but pay special attention when burning paper money. Cover the paper money with soil after burning, so as not to cause a fire, and then go to the next cemetery.

This is our family's grave sweeping method. With the development of the times, people's ideas are gradually changing. More and more people use new forms such as tree sacrifice, flower sacrifice and net sacrifice to pay homage to the dead and express their grief. I also hope that my hometown people can accept flowers to worship their ancestors and sweep the graves in a civilized way.

Sacrifice to Qingming Excellent Composition 6 When the red flowers are climbing on the branches, the green leaves are leaning in the corner in obscurity, quietly pursuing the wish of "returning to the roots"; The river flows eastward, and the drizzle falls quietly, nourishing everything and bringing vitality. And behind our peaceful and happy life, how can we leave those heroes who put life and death at risk and are fearless of any difficulties?

Another year in Tomb-Sweeping Day, we came to the Martyrs Cemetery with a heavy heart to remember the martyrs who died for the liberation of the motherland and the peace of the people.

Before I came to the tomb of the martyrs, I looked at the bundles of mourning chrysanthemums, and I couldn't help but recall their momentum of swallowing Wan Li. In front of my eyes, there seems to be a scene of soldiers fighting bloody battles: they braved gunfire and smoke to fight to the death with the enemy; They shed their blood and rushed to the battlefield. It is countless martyrs who built the Great Wall of Steel in New China with their own flesh and blood.

The breeze caressed my cheek, scattered my hair tips and messed up my thoughts. Today, in peacetime, although there are no more rumbling gunfire, there are still tests of blood and fire. On the eve of Tomb-Sweeping Day, in the process of forest fire rescue in Muli County, Liangshan, Sichuan, 3 1 firemen suddenly fell into a fire explosion and died in the sea of fire. Their average age is only 23, and the youngest is only 18. When the disaster came, they went to the fire without hesitation, leaving us with the strongest back.

Aren't they afraid of death? Are they willing to leave their families like this? They are also flesh and blood people, and there must be relatives behind them waiting for them to go home in fear. At this moment, those young faces in the news flashed through my mind. They are also eager to go on holiday, travel and accompany their sick father. And all this has become an unattainable regret. "People are inherently mortal, either heavier than Mount Tai or lighter than a feather." They exchanged their lives for the protection of national resources and social stability, and their deaths were heavier than Mount Tai.

"Life, what do I want; Justice is what I want. You can't have both, and those who give up their lives are also righteous. " People's lives are priceless, but they give up their lives and go through fire and water for their country. They are heroes of national justice.

Heroes used to be ordinary people, but someone had to do some things, and they made great choices. Although their lives are always fixed at that moment, their heroism turned into fire, which ignited the faith in our hearts. May the hero rest in peace and pay tribute to him!

Sacrifice to Qingming Excellent Composition 7 When the red flowers are climbing branches and competing for brilliance, the green leaves are leaning in the corner in obscurity, silently pursuing the desire of the leaves to return to their original source; The river flows eastward, and the drizzle falls quietly, nourishing everything and bringing vitality. And behind our peaceful and happy life, how can there be no heroes who ignore life and death and are not afraid of any difficulties?

It is another Tomb-Sweeping Day, and we come to the Martyrs Cemetery with a heavy heart to remember the martyrs who died peacefully for the liberation of the motherland and the people.

When I came to the Martyrs Cemetery, I looked at bunches of chrysanthemums sadly and couldn't help but recall their imposing manner. In front of my eyes, it seems that there is a scene of soldiers fighting bloody battles: they are fighting to the death with the enemy in the rain of bullets and smoke; They ran to the battlefield bleeding. It is countless martyrs who built the Great Wall of Steel in New China with their own flesh and blood.

The breeze caressed my cheek, scattered my hair tips and disturbed my thoughts. Today in peacetime, although there are no more thunderous gunfire, there are still tests of blood and fire. On the eve of Tomb-Sweeping Day, 3 1 firemen were killed in the forest fire rescue in Muli County, Liangshan, Sichuan. Their average age is only 23 and the youngest is only 18. When the disaster came, they rushed to the fire without hesitation, leaving us with the strongest back.

Aren't they afraid of death? Are they willing to leave their families like this? They are also flesh and blood people, and there must be relatives waiting for them to go home. At this time, those young faces in the news flashed through my mind. They also had the desire to take a vacation, travel and spend time with their sick father. And all this has become an unattainable regret. People's inherent death is either heavier than Mount Tai or lighter than a feather. They exchanged their lives for the protection of national resources and social stability, and their deaths were heavier than Mount Tai.

Life, what I want; Justice is what I want. You can't have it both ways. People's lives are priceless, but they die for their country and go through fire and water. They are heroes of national justice.

Heroes used to be ordinary people, but someone had to do something and they made a great choice. Although their lives are always fixed at that moment, the heroic spirit has become a kindling, igniting the faith in our hearts. May the heroes rest in peace and pay tribute to them!

The annual Tomb-Sweeping Day is here again. In order to commemorate the revolutionary martyrs who died heroically, the school organized all our teachers and students to visit the martyrs cemetery.

For today's grave-sweeping, I specially asked my mother to teach me to make two small white flowers last night. According to my mother, the small white flowers they used to sweep graves when they were young were made by themselves. I think I can be more sincere.

At eight o'clock in the morning, led by the flag team and the drum team, we set off for about twenty minutes. We came to the graves of two revolutionary martyrs, Pei Xinchao and Pei Shanrong in Dongyan Village. We thought it would be a spectacular cemetery, but it was actually an ordinary small mound. If it weren't for the leadership of the village cadres, I really don't see that this is the tomb of martyrs.

Standing in front of the tomb of the martyrs, the wind is particularly strong. I wonder if the martyrs are testing our will, but the students are unmoved. Despite the trouble, they are still fighting alone. ...

At the beginning of the mourning ceremony, we dedicated the little white flowers on our chests to the martyrs. I was lost in thought: I wonder why people nowadays can only remember the so-called star actors, but not the warriors who drove the invaders out of China. When I grow up, I must be an upright person to protect my country and defend my country. I bowed deeply to the martyr's grave: martyr! Rest in peace!

Pei Xinchao and Pei Shanrong, two martyrs, we will keep your glorious deeds in mind and put your fine traditions into action. Martyrs, bon voyage! In our hearts, you are immortal!

Excellent composition of "The Riverside Scene at Qingming Festival" 9. Smoke is rolling up; Willow branches swaying in the wind by the roadside are calling the children who travel in the Qingming period to find their roots.

I, I don't know when, actually became a child without foundation! Immersed in the busyness of study all day, getting up early and studying hard at his desk, he is almost indifferent to the concept of "season" except to be the pride of his parents and pursue his students' dreams. Another year of Qingming, I found myself a member of a ethnic group whose blood has been passed down for thousands of years. I am more like an isolated descendant.

With a guilty heart, I followed my grandfather back to the place where he started, to the hometown where my ancestors lived, to worship and to find the lost roots! Xiang, Hua, kneeling at the grave of our ancestors. There are more and more ups and downs around.

Is it the detention of the visiting place? Is it a sigh of alienation and repentance? Or is duckweed numb in a world without ethnic groups? In front of the cold and unfamiliar grave, the wanderer's heart is embarrassed, and an inexplicable bitterness rises in my heart and infiltrates my eyes.

Once row upon row of houses, ups and downs of family businesses, countless stories handed down by the older generation, have been erased from this ancient land by the "forgotten" giant palm. There was only an abrupt willow forest and a lonely family temple. An old man stood in an empty courtyard and seemed to ask, "Are you here?"? Which family are you descended from? " Tiny voice stubbornly asked in this wilderness, floating. ...

I am glad that I grew up in this stable and energetic era. Everyone has his own busyness and dreams, bravely catching up with the world trend and cheering for his future. Therefore, what is left is the ancestral training that has gone through thousands of years, the genealogy that has gone through vicissitudes, the deserted and lonely ancestral hall, the long-standing story, and the old man who silently stationed in the ancestral hall. He silently stationed, silently waiting, silently watching the direction of your arrival, watching the distant road.

Teenagers are rarely seen in this kind of sacrificial ceremony in Tomb-Sweeping Day. Occasionally, I just stand on the side of the road, lost in thought, or wander around, as if watching performances that have nothing to do with me, things that are out of reach.

I got up and stood up when the bell rang. With the deep and sonorous sound of eulogy, following the footsteps of our ancestors, their brilliant pioneering spirit and tireless spirit have solidified into pictures in the sky, and now their descendants will inherit this brilliant culture and firm will. "The ancestors have passed away, make persistent efforts!" This meaningful voice inspires us latecomers to move forward hand in hand and never forget our roots! My grandfather next to me patted me on the shoulder. I'm already in tears!

In the wilderness, the willow branches are still silent and swaying in the wind. ...

There are countless traditional festivals in China dedicated to Qingming excellent composition 10. There are more than a dozen festivals circulating all over the country, such as Spring Festival, Mid-Autumn Festival and Double Ninth Festival. Of course, Tomb-Sweeping Day, born to commemorate the loss of loved ones, is indispensable.

Every year in Tomb-Sweeping Day, wormwood will be hung in front of our house-we will have very distinctive Qingming dumplings. Of course, the most important thing in Tomb-Sweeping Day is to sweep the graves.

Since my parents are not from Hangzhou, we go to my father's hometown, Shaoxing Xinchang, in Tomb-Sweeping Day every year.

When we arrived at the mountain at 10 in the morning, the whole family-including all relatives and villagers, of course-set off in a mighty way.

Generally speaking, our division of labor is like this: grandpa, grandpa and uncle pick poles (mainly for sacrifice); A bunch of relatives each take a basket or broom; And we didn't bring anything, so we explored the road with dad.

Soon, the worship of the "big family" ended, and the afternoon was the most important part-the worship of grandma who died young.

Grandma died shortly before I was born, which means that my sister and I have never seen grandma with our own eyes. No, it should be said that we have never seen grandma's photos!

In the afternoon, we brought machetes, sickles, hoes and brooms for weeding, as well as wine, vegetables and candles for sacrifice.

Grandma's place is easy to grow weeds. Every year when she comes here, weeds, even leaves and pine leaves fall from the top of the grave.

When we arrived at the sacrificial place, my mother and I were cleaning the ground in front of the tomb, and my father was cleaning the weeds on the stairs from top to bottom. Uncle and aunt are responsible for removing weeds and leaves from the top of the grave from both sides to the middle.

After cleaning, my uncle will carefully select a small sapling and plant it at the top of the grave.

Then, uncle and father spread out the sacrificial cloth, put food and wine on it, and aunt put incense on it.

After that, things will be the same as in other places, but the custom of setting off firecrackers after the sacrifice can also be said to have deep feelings.

Every year, I have to go to the grave on Qingming, and I have to mourn. But every year in Tomb-Sweeping Day, I have a heavy feeling of homesickness.