A poem about mother (a poem in memory of mother)

1, miss the dead mother

Light turbidity

You smile on the wall.

I feel very painful in my heart.

Yellowing photos

A smiling and loving face

Gentle as water

A tear fell on the fence.

Two lines in the book

One mother, one me.

The dancing of trees swaying in the wind.

A leaf, dust and dirt.

A flower is in full bloom with branches.

There is no time for pity.

Mother was buried in the field.

I am bright in this world.

2. Gum Arabic

The mother sleeps in Gu Shan, and the son falls in Yueyang field.

Thousands of miles away, there are always tears.

3. Xijiangyue

The wind sends gold and silver to practice, and the clouds ride cranes.

During the Qingming Festival, the sky opens and the rain overflows the court.

A wanderer is heartbroken and lovesick.

However, I will drink wine on the balcony and worship my mother in the north.

I miss my mother.

Spine people are far away in a foreign land, and it has been five times since they bid farewell to their parents.

On Huai River, Pushan Mountain is empty, and Baling makes the water sad.

The west wind turns to sorrow, and blood and rain fly with tears.

Today, I knelt down and kowtowed three times, and even Chuncao was sad.

5. offering sacrifices to mother in Nanshan

The autumn rain lasted nearly half a month, and the water in four cities and eight towns turned into floods.

It is difficult to move south to the north, but northern poets don't frown.

I went to Nanshan to mix wine, and Zhu Ming asked Niang to go to the lonely grave.

The wind crow knows the meaning and shares the same sorrow, and hates the sky and the intestines.

6. Miss your mother

It rains at night, the lights in Xiaoxiang are dim, and listening to gēng in Qingming Festival.

Thousands of miles away hurt the soul, and a man came out of the meeting with tears in his face.

7. Think of your mother

First frost, Lu Hua, tears wet her skirt, bald and helpless.

Last May, Huang Meiyu Zeng Dian returned to his hometown as a cassock.

2. autumn scenery wrote about his mother's autumn.

Lush, fictional along the mother's eyes.

Belong to the world of warm spring

The willows in the street are always so clear.

Just like her, a strand of hair brushed her forehead.

Think of those years, carrying one child after another.

The line of sight is full of wings, melting in the soil under your feet.

Autumn came early this year.

The leaves are golden, falling one by one.

There is a piece in her gray hair.

At this point, she walked slowly forward.

Stumbling, confused

I really want her to stop.

Pick up the fallen leaf for her.

Say a few stupid words that are irrelevant.

Just like when I was a kid.

The stories and nursery rhymes she made up.

It's all about spring

The tree is green and in bloom.

Then, the late autumn will naturally be far away.

3. Meng Jiao's poem "Wandering Son" describes his mother, autumn scenery, farewell and missing his loved ones.

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring?

Autumn scenery: Preface to Wang Tengting by Wang Bo.

Sunset and lonely Qi Fei, autumn waters and sky are the same color!

Farewell: Don't Be Big by Gao Shi

During the day in Huang Yun, Wan Li,

The north wind blows geese and snow.

Don't worry about not knowing yourself,

Everyone in the world doesn't know you.

Missing my loved ones: Wang Wei's "Thinking of my brother in Shandong on vacation in the mountains"

I am a lonely stranger in a strange land, and I miss my family more often during the holidays.

When I think of my brothers' bodies climbing high, I will feel a little regret for not being able to reach me.

4. Poetry about maternal love

A loving mother loves her son and asks nothing in return. Liu An [Korea]

In October, the baby is heavy and the reward is light. Song of exhorting filial piety

One-foot-three baby, ten years and eight years' work. Song of exhorting filial piety

The mother said that the child was lying dry and the mother was asleep and wet. Song of exhorting filial piety

The mother's bitter son has not seen it yet, and the child's mother is uneasy. Song of exhorting filial piety

My mother is one hundred years old and often reads eighty children. Song of exhorting filial piety

With a loving mother, the prodigal son does not feel cold. Song of exhorting filial piety

I didn't know my parents when I loved them. Children's language

The old white-headed mother hid her face and cried, and her shirt and sleeves were broken. Han Yu

When the mother instrument hangs down, it is bright and the night platform is silent. Motto collection

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring? [Tang] Meng Jiao

Yesterday, Meng Mu chose a neighbor. In Mencius' laziness, she cut the cloth. Three Character Classic

Mother, the first relative in the world; Motherly love is the first love in the world. Strict words

The only unpolluted love in the world is maternal love. Strict words

When you succeed, everyone is a friend. But only mother-she is the partner of failure. zheng zhenduo

Mourn for my parents and give birth to me. The Book of Songs

What's wrong with having no father? What's wrong with not having a mother? The Book of Songs

A father's virtue is a son's legacy. Strict words

Parents are highly respected; Give children a good education. Motto couplets

Don't be happy with children, and don't sigh without children. Han Yu

Everyone knows that it is good to have boys and girls, but they don't know that men and women will make people old. Wang Jian

All parents in the world; The rarest person in the world, brother. Motto Lian Bi

Being a parent is the best in the world; Being a child is the greatest filial piety in the world. Motto Lian Bi

My father gave birth to me, and my mother bowed to me, caressed me, nurtured me, nurtured me,

Take care of me and answer me. The Book of Songs

Father is not kind, son is not filial; A brother who is not a friend is disrespectful; Husband is unfair.

This woman is not smooth. Yan Zhitui [Southern and Northern Dynasties]

There are no virtuous fathers and brothers in life, no strict teachers and friends outside, and few people can succeed. [Song] Lv Gongzhu

Parents do whatever they want, and I will continue to describe it; I cherish the thoughts of those parents. Motto Lian Bi

5. The sentence about fallen leaves 1. I stood among the trees and listened quietly. The fallen leaves fell to the ground with a faint rustle as thin as cicadas. At that moment, I imagined that vilen in autumn had Monet's golden color, so gorgeous. I think, out of the window, in the depths of Lin Qiu, there is a big manor with a spire, with a vague outline and silent affection. The cool autumn wind blows, and from time to time there are golden leaves fluttering slowly in front of my eyes, so gentle, so quiet and so light, as if guarding a fragile dream.

Autumn leaves are so colorful, yellow as gold, green as jade, red as fire and so on. Let the autumn girl look extraordinarily enchanting. A cool breeze blew, and golden leaves, waving handfuls of small fans, fell from the air as if telling a beautiful fairy tale.

The earth put on a golden sweater, and yellow poplar leaves and bright maple leaves fell down, as if several colorful butterflies were flying in the air. Although the frost came, Grandpa Song Qing still wore a green robe and looked greener. Chrysanthemums in the garden are in full bloom, red as fire, pink as chardonnay and white as snow, which is beautiful. All the leaves on the persimmon tree have fallen, but the persimmons in Huang Chengcheng are still hanging on their fingers, like orange lanterns, large and small, with red begonia pressing the branches.

6. A poem about mother is still a beautiful poem. Bing Xin's poem "Paper Boat" is a beautiful and classic work. Paper boat-for mom Author: Bing Xin I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper, and I always keep it-keep it, fold it into a boat and throw it into the sea. Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck to the bow. I am still not discouraged. I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go. Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wanshui Qian Shan, please bring her love and sorrow home. Of course, Meng Jiao's Ode to a Wanderer is the most famous ancient poem.

the Tang Dynasty

Make clothes for her wayward son.

Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.

Who said that?

reward

Hui!

7. There are beautiful poems with fallen leaves on the ground. It is always more comfortable to walk under the fallen leaves and wander in the clear sky. I sat in your shadow and watched the white clouds, sunshine and blue sky collide, and the fallen leaves passed through my sentences and fell into my poems.

When I looked up in the morning, the whole yard was covered with leaves. I looked up, but I saw that Lin Qiu had exposed twigs.

Just like the fallen leaves in the whole autumn, countless words about autumn are not as good as your smile.

"What's missing? Love to the depths, the sky is you; The cloud is you, and the slight vibration of the mobile phone is you; And when autumn comes, the leaves and even the dust from the wind are yours. Your face is hidden in the phrase "warm as spring".

A fallen leaf shows the color of autumn; A season has passed.

There are three colors of leaves in a season, and the leaves in Sanqiu have fallen. I give you this gift: Chun Lv, Xia Hong and Huang Qiu. For the rest of my life, you owe me winter white hair.

The lost years are like fallen leaves, scattered all over the floor. Like a scavenger, I stopped in a hurry, picked up the fragments of time bit by bit and held them carefully in my hand, trying to piece together the traces of time.

The wind blew, the leaves fell, and some sunlight leaked out from among the trees. Stepping on the fallen leaves of Ginkgo biloba leaves and turning on the camera, I just want to write the sentences about autumn longer and want to pass the warm time more slowly. The colors in autumn are all brightly dyed. Is the wind taking ginkgo away or does ginkgo yearn for the wind?

People's hearts are like fallen leaves, falling all their lives.

Listening to the night wind bypass a few streets, the leaves on the ground are thin in autumn, so all night, the emotional sentences wither and fade.

Pick up a dead leaf falling in the wind, put it in the palm of your hand and stare at the surface of the fallen leaf carefully. The vertical and horizontal veins tell the sadness of falling, and a kind of unprovoked pity rises to my heart, as if I could hear the leaves crying. I know. I can feel it. It is the attachment and reluctance of leaves to branches. The rain of buttonwood leaves is parting. Who can stop autumn hatred from turning the fallen leaves yellow?

When a fallen leaf falls into the threatening twilight, it reminds me that time flies like water and time is like a song. It turned out that, suddenly, the flowers bloomed.

If you are a blank sheet of paper, I would like to write a loving sentence for you with a drop of thick ink. If you were a fallen leaf, I would like to be a drop of blood to dye your autumn frost.

I like the autumn night when the breeze is rustling, and the fallen leaves are accompanied by the afterglow of the sunset. Wearing headphones, walking in the busy streets, closing your eyes, feeling the temperature of the wind with singing, as if slowly blowing into your heart and falling into restlessness.

I will still believe that through the sunny summer sun and the fallen leaves in autumn, you will eventually arrive.

Drifting is the loneliness of fallen leaves; Desolation is the clue of my writing; I can't write warm and tired sentences, and I can't write cool thin.

Fallen leaves on the ground, untitled sentences, I want to pick up the fragments of the years and stick them together to form a story, overlapping and overlapping, turning the footsteps of life into a paper symbol. I only hope that I can accompany you through the autumn cold at the moment I remember, at the moment when flowers are flying and before the leaves fall.

8. Help me find some poems or articles about fallen leaves. Jia Guo set sail, but toad lost the reunion.

Autumn wind gives birth to Wei water, and leaves are all over Chang 'an. There was a party here in the evening, when it was thunderstorm and freezing.

Lan Raoshu did not return, and the news was in the clouds. ———————————— When the rainy season of autumn leaves is over, we will still cry for the flowers.

After the rainy season has passed, I will still feel sorry for the first fallen leaves in autumn. Autumn leaves are no longer brilliant, perhaps it thinks that the dust in the turbid world can no longer hold the soil and needs them to cover up this stain; Perhaps it thinks that trees can no longer provide nutrients, so that it can stand proudly, and their fall can provide enough strength to make trees survive the cold in deep winter.

Autumn leaves have lost their original light, and life is short, but they also have their own unique life journey. It is also young and brilliant. At that time, its vigorous vitality was incomparable with those arrogant flowers and expensive grass. What it thinks of is not the nostalgia for life, but the whole process of life.

If you stand under a tree in late autumn, the breeze blows and the leaves rustle in front of your eyes, close your eyes and feel it wholeheartedly, you will find that a great life is conveying its deep love to you, which is imperceptible to the five senses, and you will understand in an instant that our usual verbal love is too shallow and narrow, and the real love is selfless and broad, just as you are being cared for now. The limitation of time and space is far from your life.

Short and eternal love brings you together, reminiscing about its life and feeling the love for life together. Everything is so natural and everything is so simple.

When you wake up in your own mood, the wind has stopped and the leaves are no longer falling. The fallen leaves have fallen at your feet, and simple and plain colors will make you cry. For no reason, you will cry because of your feelings and thoughts about this life.

It is no longer practical for men to cry lightly. This is the exchange of life and our admiration for life. Autumn leaves, which may be meaningless in your eyes, are pregnant with the simplest love in the world. You may have overlooked it before, but can you feel it now, so that your life can be completely sublimated? ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Autumn is like the clothes of pedestrians in the street. It's neither thick nor thin, neither too much nor too little. It's nothing like fancy in spring, bare in summer and bloated in winter.

Autumn, full of harvest, beaming, poetic, with a broad mind, shows a colorful picture. I love autumn, however, what touches my heartstrings most is the fallen leaves in autumn! The crescent moon in late autumn can't cut the grass in the wilderness, but it picks the birds from the trees and drives away the butterflies that turn from light green to light yellow.

Yes, Ye Qiu, you are mature, tired and old. Since the end of the north wind, the first green bud has emerged tenaciously, destined to withstand the test of seasonal changes in spring, summer, autumn and winter: the biting cold in early spring, the storm in summer, the bleak in autumn and the cold in winter.

However, you caught the spring breeze and added a touch of green to the earth; Resist summer and provide shade for people; Autumn has come, it's time for you to go, so you quietly leave the branch where you live and sing a final hymn for the earth with your dancing language. After singing, you will throw yourself into the arms of Mother Earth with autumn feelings and have a good sleep.

Regardless of wind, frost, rain and snow, it will eventually blend with the earth and become a new life. In the coming year, when the spring breeze thaws and everything recovers, new life will be born from fertile soil.

This is your ordinary life. Oh, fallen leaves, you are yellow and have no regrets, but you have no regrets. Aren't you the same as our retired old comrades in Qian Qian? They either worked hard for the construction of the motherland, or devoted themselves to the cause of the party, or risked their lives for the people, or contributed their lives to ordinary jobs, but never cared about personal gains and losses, and sang a brilliant poem: leaves and butterflies will eventually fly away.

He felt the glory of falling, the comfort of losing! Ye, don't care about Ye, and don't compete with anyone. With persistent pursuit, he spent his life with flowers and fruits.

Yan Yan came to comfort. Complete it silently and selflessly, and leave happily! Autumn leaves, I love you! But I admire the old man's autumn leaf spirit! ———————————————————————————————————————————— Autumn leaves. In autumn, the trees are covered with fallen leaves, like a thick golden carpet.

Look over there, another big leaf has fallen unsteadily. As soon as I saw it, I ran over and stretched out a pair of small hands to pick it up.

Ah, this leaf is like a small golden fan, very beautiful! There are so many leaves on the ground that I don't know which one to pick. I just picked one up and took it home. I put my favorite in a book, and the leaves became beautiful bookmarks. —————————————————————————————————— Autumn leaves and autumn rains are tireless, obliquely and densely woven with sadness, which permeates the whole season.

And the intermittent melody, shaking countless dead leaves, just like my general mood. If you compare this autumn rain to my tears, then today's fallen leaves must be your soul.

Although it is another autumn in terms of time division, I really can't forget every bright smile of yours, which will appear in front of my eyes from time to time; Every clear figure of you seems to be not far from me; Even when you leave, your eyes are full of infinite nostalgia, helplessness and sadness. I remember, you once told me that you like autumn best all the year round, and you like falling leaves because you think falling leaves are the destination of life; I remember, I once wrote such a passage: "Footprints printed on fallen leaves are a feeling of intoxication."

One or two dead leaves floated gently with footsteps, curled up on the ground a few times, and then lay on the ground delicately, still trembling slightly, as if excited about the beauty of life. The mood is also full of love. "

After being seen by you, every day in Qiu Lai, you will always symbolically comfort me: fallen leaves make way for trees and make them grow better.

9. A poem about "fallen leaves" and "everlasting regret".

the Tang Dynasty

Bai Juyi

The emperor of China, eager to shake the beauty of an empire, has been in office for many years, searching and never finding it.

Until a child of the Yang family grew up in the inner room, almost before she grew up, and no one knew her.

However, due to the gift of heaven and no concealment, it was finally elected royal one day.

If she just turned her head and smiled, there were a hundred spells, and the powder and paint of six palaces disappeared without a trace.

It was early spring. They let her bathe in a pure pool to warm and smooth her creamy skin.

Because she was tired, a maid lifted her up, when the emperor noticed her for the first time and chose her as his bride.

On the night of spring, the warm hibiscus curtains covered her fluttering hair, petals on her cheeks and golden ripples on her head.

But the night in spring is short and the sun rises too fast. Since then, the emperor has given up his early hearing.

He wastes all his time on parties and revelry. He is the lover of spring and the tyrant of night.

There are other ladies in his court, 3,000 of whom are stunning beauties, but his love for 3,000 is concentrated on one person.

The golden house is dressed up to serve the night. When the table in the jade tower is cleaned, she will wander around and drink wine slowly.

Her sisters and brothers were both given titles, a poor portal.

When a girl is born instead of a boy, she brings happiness to every father and mother in the empire.

... high rose plum palace, into the blue clouds, and the wide breeze carries magical notes.

Soft songs and slow dances, strings and bamboo music, the emperor's eyes can never stare at her.

Until the sound of drums came from Yuyang, which shook the earth and broke the tune of rainbow skirts and feather clothes.

The Forbidden City, a nine-story palace, is hidden in the dust and travels southwest from thousands of chariots and horses.

The imperial flag opened the way, suddenly moving and stopping, 30 miles from the capital and passing the west gate.

People in the army stop, and no one will move until they are under their hooves. They may trample on those moths.

The gorgeous hairpin fell to the ground, and no one picked it up. A golden finch with green wings scratched his head.

The emperor couldn't save her, so he had to cover his face. Later, when he turned to look, there was blood and tears.

Hidden in the yellow dust blown by the cold wind, they crossed a cloud line at the crack in the path of the dagger tower.

Under Emei Mountain. The last few came, and the flags and banners lost their colors in the fading sun.

But the water in Shu is always green and the mountains are always blue, so your majesty's love is constant and deeper than the sky.

He gazed at the desolate moon from his temporary palace. It rained at night and the bell sounded heartbreaking.

On the same day, in last contact, the train was heading home. At this time, I hesitated to go.

The memory and pain are buried in the soil of Maweipo. Where is her white face? .

Rulers and lords, when their eyes met, cried on their coats. They rode horses, loosened the reins and slowly returned to the capital.

Pond, garden, palace, everything is the same as before, Taiye Lake hibiscus, Weiyang Palace willow.

But the petals are like her face, and the willow leaves are like her eyebrows. Whenever he looks at them, what can he do but cry? .

Peach and plum trees are in bloom. In the spring wind, after the autumn rain, the leaves fall to the ground.

The palaces in the west and south are scattered with evening grass, and the steps are piled with red leaves that are not swept.

Bai Fuxin, a disciple of Li Yuan, and eunuchs in her pepper yard. .

Fireflies were flying on the throne, and he was meditating in the twilight. , he will extend the wick to its end and still never fall asleep. ..

Bells and drums will slowly ring the long night, and before dawn, the Milky Way in the sky will become clear.

And the porcelain mandarin ducks on the roof grow thick morning frost, and the jade is cold, so who and who * * *.

The distance between life and death is year after year, but no beloved soul has visited his dream.

There lived a Taoist priest in Lingqiong. He was a guest in the sky and could summon the gods through his concentration.

People were moved by the emperor's constant meditation, and they begged the Taoist priest to see if he could find her.

He opened a path in space, like lightning, cut through the sky, up and down, looking for it everywhere.

Above, he looked for the green void, below, the yellow spring, but he didn't find the one he was looking for in two places.

Then he heard a story about a magical island at sea, which is part of the invisible world.

There are pavilions in the five-color sky, and exquisite immortals walk back and forth.

And one of them, they call it forever true, has a face like her snow and flowers.

Jin Que knocked on the jade fan in the west wing and asked a young girl named Baoyu, telling her both.

This lady, after hearing the news of Emperor China's envoy, woke up from her dream in her canopy.

She pushed open the pillow, got dressed, shook off her drowsiness, opened the pearly curtain, and then opened the silver screen.

Ji Yun is half asleep, and her flowered hat is loose when she walks along the balcony.

A breeze blew her cloak and fluttered with her movements, as if she were dancing with a rainbow skirt and feather coat.

Tears fell from her sad pale face, just like the spring rain on pear flowers.

But when she asked him to thank her monarch, her eyes shone with love. Since they separated, her form and voice were unfamiliar to her.

Because happiness ends in the courtyard of the sun, the moon and dawn become long in the palace of Xianshan.

But when she turned to look down at the earth and tried to see the capital, there was only fog and dust.

So she took out the keepsake he gave, and gave him a shell box and a gold hairpin through his messenger.

However, one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box were kept, and the gold of the hairpin and the shell of the box were broken.

"Our souls belong to each other," she said, "just like this gold and this shell." Somewhere, at some time, on earth or in heaven, we will be together.

She sent him a message through his messenger, reminding him that only the hearts of the two of them knew the oath.

On the seventh day of July, in the Palace of Eternal Life, we secretly told each other in the quiet midnight world.

We hope to fly in heaven, two birds become one and grow on the earth, two branches of a tree. ..

The earth endures, and the sky endures; One day both will end, and this endless sadness will last forever.