A poem about going home for the holidays

1. A poem to persuade people to go home for the New Year, Xian Yi, old and young, with the same accent.

When children meet strangers, they will smile and ask where the guests are from.

Wang Wan, the next berth of Beibao Mountain.

Under the blue mountain, my boat and I meandered along the green water. Tides come and go, and no wind stirs my lonely sail.

... night gives way to the ocean of the sun, and the old year melts in freshness. I can finally send my messenger, the wild goose, back to Luoyang.

Jiang Lou gan stir-fried flavor

Alone at the bottom of the river, I vaguely thought that the moonlight was like water. Where are the moongazers? The scenery is vaguely like last year.

Schumann skotu

The long-term plan for leisure is not idle, and I try to leave Qin Guan. Everyone gradually feels strange in the local accent, but they hate the sound of the old mountain.

Topic Zhi Chuanshan Shui Dai's Book Theory

In May, the Matsushita Cottage was cool and pleasant, and the white sand enveloped Tingzhou and the lush forests in the distance in the twilight, showing a vast gray. On the road, endless homesickness rises, and green mountains and green waters seem to be their hometown.

Missing Li Gou

People say that the place where the sun sets is the horizon. I try to look at the horizon, but I can't see my home. Castle Peak is being influenced by Castle Peak, which covers my sight. Twilight, Castle Peak.

Wang Yucheng

The horse is wearing a string of chrysanthemums that look like yellow. People think that this kind of horse grows in the wild. Listen to the sound of thousands of valleys at night and watch some peaks silent in the sunset.

The leaves of huanghuali are as red as rouge, and the fragrance of buckwheat flowers is as white as snow. Why are you so melancholy? Village bridge is like my hometown!

2. Wang Anshi's poem about wanting to go home for the New Year.

The roar of firecrackers, the old year has passed; The warm spring breeze ushered in the New Year, and people happily drank the newly brewed Tu Su wine.

The rising sun sheds light on doors of each household, New peachwood charm is put up to replace the old.

Wang Anshi, alias, Mid-levels, Jiang You of Han nationality. China is an outstanding politician, writer, thinker and reformer in history, one of the eight masters in Tang and Song Dynasties, and the leader of the new party. When Song Shenzong was in power, Wang Anshi was the prime minister and initiated reforms, which was called "Wang Anshi's political reform" in history. This is a famous political reform in the history of China. During Wang Anshi's political reform, the Song Dynasty was at its peak, and the Xihe River advanced with great strides and expanded thousands of miles, which was unprecedented since the founding of the People's Republic of China a hundred years ago. He has made outstanding achievements in literature, including Collected Works of Mr. Linchuan, Collected Works of Wang Linchuan and Collected Works of Linchuan. He also wrote the well-known January Day. His poems are good at reasoning and rhetoric, and their contents can also reflect social reality. Although there are not many words, the style is lofty and bold, and the feelings are profound and unique. There are Linchuan episodes.

3. The poem about going home for the New Year is not modern, but an ancient poem, Yuan Day [Song], in which Wang Anshi sent firecrackers every other year.

The rising sun sheds light on doors of each household, New peachwood charm is put up to replace the old. Drunk Taoyuan Yuanri [Song] Wu Wenying is more silent than Ma Jing.

Neighbors are still afraid of being surprised. The sun shines, the morning light shines and the spring is bright.

It was cold and sad at dusk. New year's dream, love last year.

Half asleep at night. The spring breeze is impermanent, and the plum blossoms are fragrant.

Break the long and short pavilions. Yung Yung sat in Guangxi [Tang Dynasty] in the middle of the night and returned to Wan Li on credit.

The snow is whispering to the bamboo forest, and the dream has returned to the house. The horn of dawn replaces the leaky sound of night style, and the light will burn out the broken core flowers.

In the past two years, I have left home with Biao Qi, and my hard-working Sui mother is still stuck in the world. On New Year's Eve, Liu Yuxi was not proud of the New Year, so what about the New Year?

Many travelers miss the past. Take leisure as your own comfort, and you will waste your life.

Spring scenery is ruthless, and I have seen it in seclusion. Shousui [Song] Su Shi wants to know that he is old, just like a snake.

The scale is half, who will cover it? The situation wants to tie its tail, although it is diligent and helpless.

The child was forced not to sleep and was very happy at night. If you don't sing the morning chicken, you are more afraid of causing trouble.

After sitting for a long time, the lights went down and I looked at the Big Dipper. It will be gone next year, and my worries will be in vain.

Try to do it tonight, and the teenager can still boast. In addition to the night, Chang 'an Guest House [Tang] Ouyang Zhan fell asleep after writing for ten days, and moved again when he died.

Looking forward to your family's birthday is a long-term hatred. Deficiency and cold spread, and solitary light shines.

Who will ask the poor to cry more? .

4. What are the poems that can't go home during the New Year? 1. Except for sending a sister in law at night.

Tang Dynasty: Bai Juyi

If you have feelings, you miss your sister-in-law. If you have life, you worry.

Wan Li was alone for many years.

The sick face is not an old face, so I forced a new face after thinking about it.

We will meet again sooner or later, and we will grow up separately.

Second, "In addition to the night Chang 'an Guest House"

Tang Dynasty: Du Ouyang Zhan

Ten books are still sleeping, wait for the old edition to move.

Looking forward to your family's birthday is a long-term hatred.

Deficiency and cold spread, and solitary light shines.

Who will ask the poor to cry more?

Third, "night shift"

Tang dynasty: Gao Shi

The cold light in the hotel stayed alone and didn't sleep, and the guest turned sad.

My hometown is a thousand miles away tonight, and Frost Temple has another year's power.

Fourth, "Taiyuan is very cold except at night"

Ming Dynasty: Yu Qian

Send a message to the world, travel light.

The spring breeze is not far away, just to the east of the house.

This poem about going home for the New Year is easy to recite. Please recommend one. Thank you for coming home for the Spring Festival.

When I tore off the last page of the calendar with trembling hands

The defenseless heart suddenly broke.

Like fallen leaves in winter, trapped in endless ice caves.

An unguarded miss began to fall in the drizzle.

A dry river bed in my hometown grows out of my short-sleeved mouth.

I didn't have time to say goodbye, so I bought a station ticket from the scalper with my savings for several months.

When you get the ticket, you will feel day and night.

The bustling crowd couldn't stop the wheel of missing, and stuffed the full hearts into the thin train.

Plant the boss's stingy and unpaid wages in the back of the head, north, north, north.

I really want to shout, just like the long sound of a train.

Young children and elderly parents have long looked down on the entrance to the village.

Too short to pass, and there are not many tears left.

The warm wind in the south of the Yangtze River softened my hard eyes.

I can't find the direction of tears.

When I left, only the silent land smelled of wheat.

The spicy taste of string of red peppers in front of the house dyed his chest red.

The person who called after hearing the news is still the same.

It's just that the waist is not as strong as before.

The laughter in the yard masked the loneliness in winter.

No matter what I am, the land will always be my hometown.

The other end of the phone shouted for dad's child.

Now I am leaning against the door frame with my head down far away, just squinting from time to time.

Familiar and unfamiliar eyes stopped at their feet in disorder, and there was nowhere to hide.

Maybe only roots know the smell of fallen leaves.

A small toy makes his face shine and he goes crazy everywhere.

Before the firecrackers sounded, the old mother served a big bowl of hot jiaozi.

Stubborn as a child

Every jiaozi is a portrayal of his parents' life.

The outside looks soft and slippery, and the inside is wrapped in ups and downs.

Jiaozi reached his throat and didn't want to slide down any more.

Direct connection is like an old father's body.

Standing by the door all the time waiting for the return of the wanderer from afar.

Eye-catching red, dripping thick flame

Melt the awkward New Year.

What kind of New Year is more enjoyable than family reunion?

6. A poem about going home for the New Year. When I tore off the last page of the calendar with trembling hands, my unsuspecting heart suddenly broke, like fallen leaves caught in an endless ice cave in the cold winter. An unguarded yearning began to fall off in the drizzle, and a cracked riverbed in my hometown grew in my short sleeve. It's too late to say goodbye. I bought a station ticket from scalpers with my savings for several months. Without the noise of people in my heart day and night, I can't stop the wheel of missing. I stuffed my filled heart into the thin train, leaving the boss's meanness and unpaid wages behind me. I want to yell at you, North, North, North. Just like the train blaring, young children and elderly parents have already narrowed the entrance to the village and looked short. I don't have many tears. The warm wind in the south of the Yangtze River makes my hard eyes soft and I can't find the direction of tears. Only the silent land still exudes the spicy taste of the string of red peppers that leaked out in front of Maixiang House when I left. The villagers who came to see me when they heard the news were still the same, but their waists were not as strong as before. The laughter in the yard masked the loneliness in winter. No matter what I look like, the land will always be my hometown. The child crying for his father at the other end of the phone leaned his head against the door frame at a distance. He just squints at familiar and unfamiliar eyes from time to time and stops at his feet in disorder. There is nowhere to hide. Maybe only roots know the smell of fallen leaves. A small toy makes his face shine, and the crazy firecrackers haven't sounded everywhere. The old mother served a big bowl of hot jiaozi, as stubborn as a child. Every jiaozi is a portrayal of her parents' life. It looks soft and slippery outside, and jiaozi is wrapped in ups and downs and reaches her throat, never wanting to slide down again. Like her old father's body, she always stood by the door waiting for the return of the wanderer from afar. The dazzling red drops of thick flame melted the embarrassing New Year. What kind of New Year is more gratifying than family reunion?