Whether in school or in society, when it comes to poetry, we are certainly no strangers to it, the language of poetry is simple and rich in meaning, characterized by condensation and jumping. You are still struggling to find good classic poems? The following is a poem I organized about the years, I hope it can help you.
Poetry about the years 1It's not having you in the good times, it's having the good times because of you, thinking of you, looking up and smiling To my girlfriends!
That year, that day, I was terrified to follow my oldest brother, and heard him say: do not look for it, you are divided into 11 classes. Nani? The names on that class list were densely packed, but each one looked so strange. My junior high school career, my first year of life, with the GUTS on the victory uniform in the sun shimmering shimmering, with this one number 11, opened the curtain.
How much time has passed in the blink of an eye
The young man who once aspired to be in the four corners of the world was envious of the swallow that flew south
The figures who ran to their respective destinations hurriedly faded away
The future of the ordinary ah who gave me the answer
The people who accompanied me at that time ah where are you now
The people who I once loved ah what is the appearance of now
The people who once loved ah what is the appearance of now
The people who have been in the world are the most important thing for the future of the country.
Life is like a merciless knife
It has changed us
Will we wither before we bloom
I had dreams
Youth is like a running river
It's too late to say goodbye
I'm left numb and I don't have the same passion I had back then
Look at the flowers that are falling all over the place
I can't believe that I have to go to a place like this
It's not like I have to go to a place like this.
Who remembers that this world has been here before
Has my wish come true
Is this the only way to pay homage now
I can't find my true self again if I let the years dry up my ideals
I look up to the sky full of stars
The one that was with me at the time
Do you remember the story of the time you were there? Do you still remember
If there is a tomorrow bless you dear
That year, that day, I heard you shouted across the street in the middle of the hey, I saw you in the center of the square under the shade of the acacia tree waved his hand at me. I can't remember whether I ran to you or you crossed the street to meet me, I only remember you said: we both seem to go by the way, a ride away full. I have been alone for several days, your this one hello, this wave, let me three years are no longer alone. Dear big dish, do you still remember?
That year, that day, the big dish to me, said, come to know, this is Zhang Jing, nicknamed tile slag. You looked at me coyly like that and said, uh, I forgot. Then in the second semester of junior high school, the old class made you and Xiaoxia into the same table, sitting behind me and Xiang, and so on until the graduation of junior high school. I promise, I was happy every moment of every day that you were there, because you would imitate Liu Huan, you would imitate idiots, and you would let us bully you. Why were you so naive, dear old Va, do you remember?
That year, that day, the first time I heard the old Zhang said your name, but because of a certain talent to start a few days of school to miss class to please your parents to look for, the heart also a small pondering, yin is which yin, well, it should be silver is right. Not a few days I talk to the old class gabbled a meaning is to give me a seat, I still remember the scene ah: the old class looked around a few times and said: you with that who who has changed. Coincidentally, oh, just sat next to you, and then to the second year, the third year, the first year of high school, and now, we have always been at the same table, are the closest girlfriends. Have you ever heard of the saying: there is a fate to meet in a thousand miles, but no fate to not know each other. This is fate! Dear tablemates, do you still remember?
The day after the mid-term exams, we went to Xinglong Mountain together, climbed the West Mountain together, shouting madly and arrogantly at the top of the mountain, but also because of the steepness of the sky ladder tired and out of breath, picnicking in the back of the mountain in the shade of the thick green, and quietly enjoying the leisure and reluctance to leave after graduation ......
My Xiaoxia, my pineapple, my section chief, my sister-in-law, my Pippi, where are you all nowadays. Originally I thought three years can be a long long, now realize that three years is very short very short, a flick of the finger, a classroom a white paper, destined to our respective ends of the earth later. The same blue sky, the same starry sky, the same quiet night, just no longer see the familiar touch. But we are not responsible for the flow of light, not responsible for the youth, so, I hope that once grew up together, together with the fun 'you, but also to enjoy the quiet years.
Youth is the behavior of those who have committed a mistake, only to have something called memories.
Poetry about the years 2Bai Lu Mei's "The years are quiet and the present world is stable" reading and excerpts
A cut of idle clouds and a stream of moon, a journey of mountains and waters a year of China.
A world of floating life, a moment, a tree of Bodhi, a smoky haze.
Many people, walk to see a flower event, ferry to enjoy a lake spring water, from a city to a town. A dusty road, some people will be loaded into the bag, some people will be the story on the shoulders, they are looking for that belongs to the original home of the soul, but in a hurry and forget the way, do not know the way back. Hidden talent Bai Lu Mei, to write the red dust with Zen, to the Buddhist way of life, into the clouds and water Zen heart, into the earthly smoke and fire. With her *** there is a cut of Bodhi's light, but also listen to her quietly tell the fate of this coming and going, overlooking the fireworks of the world, tasting the quiet life, looking forward to the present world of peace and stability ......
Such as the water of a good time, warm a pot of white moonlight in the fallen flowers buried deep in the small courtyard, caressing a song of "clouds and water Zen heart". The dust flying in the daytime, this time has been dispersed, smoke and clouds convergence, the world forgets the machine. The red dust and cosmetics have all fallen off, and the birds have all returned to the mountains and forests. The water is silent, a wild boat crossing, the world of clear waves, has not seen the back of the past.
The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey.
The first time I saw this, I was in the middle of a long journey.
The wind blows in the mountains, and the moon shines on the flowers and shadows.
The red dust is like a dream of gathering and leaving, and there is a lot of love and sorrow.
I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm going to be able to do it," he said.
My heart is like a cloud of smoke, dancing in the air with long sleeves.
I am a man of thousands of miles, and my soul and dreams are always together.
The red face is empty,
A dream of Nanke is hard to wake up, empty old mountains.
Listen to the clear spring ding dong ding dong seems unintentional,
reflecting my long night silence.
All the feelings are in the past
Idle reading, a small record, as a pleasure
Poetry about the years 3Once familiar with the old song, here and there
The rhythm of the present, the strong life struggle
The days of the past, a novel of the vicissitudes of life
The flow of the years
Some did not have the past for their own burial
The past was buried.
The tea is not cold, and the dust is occasionally stained
Just like this youthful scene, the old time
Twisting a piece of the past
She's gone, he's gone, they're all gone
You're not alone, you still have yourself
Turns out
No matter what kind of prosperity there was
In the end
It's all going to the inconsequential rainbow.
Just like this season, the yellow flower rain, free and easy to fall
But do not know the next second
Instantaneous flow of years far away, the dream of the flower is cold
Pool of spring water, 10,000 feet of the flow of years, how can I remember the past
A bend of the new moon, the heavy locks of the building, the qu qu qu qu poetry rhyme fragrance
The prosperity of the end of the end, but the end of the desert
The years have been the same, and the people of the world are not the only people in the world, and they are the only people in the world who have ever been in the world. p>
The years have been dead, the song of joy that there is no harm?
Looking at other people's stories, I felt all kinds of emotions
The red dust is past, and the tears fell
The winds of the years
Blow away the good old days
The confused eyes
The corners of the eyes of the people who have moved?
Is it the life of the unrepentant
Or is it the age of the dead.
Poetry about the years 4In this summer night of flickering fireflies, to let their own hands personally cut this sadness, and you, quietly tethered to a tie.
--Title
Gently waved his hand, cut off the parting sorrow.
And you, with a smiling face, send off.
That a cup and a lamp, that a plate and a dish, sadness is too heavy, tasteless!
The wine is so sad, but your words make the whiskers and brows look pale.
A husband in the world, the four seas.
Why? Sympathetic to each other, the children's love.
Although a few partings, and you are still uncomplaining, affectionate.
//
Looking back to the first time, spring cold, rain and smoke.
Inadvertently, the stay is to stay with each other, life seems destined.
And the twists and turns of life seem to be testing each other's fidelity.
Parting, and I was so determined.
Seeing you pearly rain of poignancy, and waving sleeves of determination, heartbreak.
It's just the same rain and smoke, with your attachment to set sail.
//
Tossing and turning the years, letting the lovesickness accumulate into a mountain.
Looking at my staggering steps, looking at my tired face, your tears turned into a smile.
Greeting a passerby who is parting again?
The ragged, haggard face of me, facing your frank and speechless tears.
When the spring once again called the footsteps of the wanderer, really, once again in front of you.
Dream? No, really I appeared in front of you, in your tender arms.
Said, no longer travel far, said, no longer parting, let the east wind to smooth out all the sorrow.
However, in the face of today's parting, another broken promise makes me embarrassed!
//
The fireflies are rising and the frogs are singing.
The gardenia flowers are blooming in the courtyard.
Your hand is twirling, and the song is deep.
I can only hear the frog drums stopping suddenly, and the fireflies gathering light;
I can only hear the wind stopping, and the moon covering my face.
The tea was sipped, the umbrella was no longer in the rainy alley;
The iron horse and the golden goose, the sword at the end of the world.
//
Tomorrow, we will go to the future, and hang our sails on the clouds.
The rain and smoke are in the heart.
Take the flute, the ear-splitting sound field, and the long, exciting wail.
Change the jade pipe, deep and distant, deep and sincere.
With you, there is no need to get drunk on the willow bank, see the wind and the moon and do not know where to wake up.
With your company, light song and dance, buried very attached, and left alone in the bosom.
It's just that I waved my hand gently and cut off the heavy emotions.
Anyone who has ever been in a hurry to get to a place where there is a firefly, or a frog drum, will be able to get to it.
//
Drunk in your arms, no worries tonight!
The moon is curved and hangs diagonally from the Qin Tower.
Tomorrow we will ascend to the future!
Thirty years of time
As the stars fall gently
Memories in the canyon gap
Cooking smoke like a rise flickering
The black old bike ah
In the heart of the father's warm hands
In the mother's loving and concerned caress
The old bike is a very good one, but it's not the only one. The tinkling bells of the bicycle meandered around
taking away the tender years of a girl's life
And so
the brightly colored cockscomb flowers
were crushed by the wheels of the years
and floated out into the beautiful poems in the briefs of the books
I was still looking at the neon lights
and I was still in the lilac bushes of the daydreaming
in the years of the rainy days.
The days have settled into a yellowed scroll
In every birthdate that creeps up on us
Pick up the moonlight that falls in front of the window
Open the bottle of vintage wine
Whether or not there is a blessing from you
In the light of the days that have fallen
There is always a poem that I sing softly and shallowly
Poetry about the yearsThe river of years passes through all the lightness of the wind
The wheel of history crushes how many flowers and moons in the past and present
Standing on the ancient city wall, touching the trauma of time
The box of memory has sealed the precipitation of the past for 90 years
When I abandoned the long shirt, no longer wandering
I can only sigh softly, like the water flowing years
Overlooking the
Once upon a time, people were displaced from their homes
Their eyes showed fear
In the midst of the brutal wars
How many innocent lives were lost in the blink of an eye?
How many great heroes have died trying to save the day?
The alternation of night and day hides too many
little-known glorious deeds
The death of a man in exchange for the peace of his life
The terrible price
The gap between life and death
separated by 90 years of time
I stood on the shore alone and looked out
The course of life is as far back as the river
The course of life is like the river
The course of life is like the river back
The course of life is like the river back
The course of life is as far back as the river back
The course of life is like the river back. p>
Coiling, twisting, haunting ......