Whether in study, work or life, we are inevitably exposed to the composition, right, composition is a written form of expression of people's speech activities. So the question is, in the end, how to write an excellent essay? The following is my compilation of essays on the topic of flowers, welcome to share.
The essay on the topic of flowers 1Read it, a thousand times not tired. Bite the words, not to rival it branches luxuriantly: Tang poetry and Song lyrics, not to win it a tree of flowers; poetry and opera, no rhyme it murmurs between the leaves. Dreaming back to the hometown of the old courtyard, flowers blossom and fall, four alternation, its figure is still firm.
The first time I saw - tender
The early spring of the year when I was a child, the drizzle, quietly weaving the dream of spring. The hometown was like a newborn baby, full of vigor. I'm not sure if I've ever been to a place where I've had a good time, but I'm not sure if I've ever been to a place where I've had a good time, and I'm not sure if I've ever had a good time. I don't know where it came from, but I'm very happy, it's the beautiful expectation of my childhood life.
I carefully helped the sapling into a small pit of earth, and then closed my eyes and said happily small pear tree, my father said you and I are as big as, later, we grow up together! The rain is like a dream or a mist, witnessing a beautiful vow. I scooped up a handful of fine mud and gently sprinkled it into the mound. In my memory, every spring, summer, fall and winter after that, there will be a little girl whispering by a tiny pear tree. In my expectation, the pear tree also draws out the shoots every day to grow up, but never bloomed
Goodbye - wind and rain
Growing up a bit, I went to school in a school far away from home, the task of study is intense, that will not blossom of the pear tree is also gradually forgotten by me. I still remember that summer, I have failed a series of small exams, boredom, a rage back home. Those days have been stormy weather, the sky is as black as a piece of thick ink, pressure I can not breathe. The rain is getting heavier and heavier, the rain is getting stronger and stronger, the whole village was made to look like a complete mess.
That night, I overheard my father's voice in the house. He said in a low tone: Hey, the pear tree in the yard cut it, not long enough. I was shocked, quickly looked out the window, pear tree in the storm wild dance, leaves flying in the sky, the branches are broken. But! Pear tree is still struggling, the wind and rain, its trunk has been pressed to bend, but never broke, it is so resilient!
My thoughts went back to that early spring, and I remembered that year's vow, and the miserable test paper. And now that it was fighting alone, I chose to run away! I rushed into the house and shouted to my father, It will grow and blossom! It will bear fruit! Don't cut it down! I will work with it! I cried desperately, the tears were bitter but took away my weakness.
Father nodded. The storm outside the house remained, but my heart was no longer confused.
Later - the flourishing
Now, I have gone to junior high school, the hometown of the pear tree gradually restored
green, is now a robust pear tree. This spring, I went back to my hometown, the pear tree miraculously blossomed. I stood in front of the pear tree, this pear flower cluster, layer by layer, like a cloud brocade like the sky to spread, in the warm spring light, such as snow, such as jade, white million hectares, colorful, sparkling crystal. The first time I saw this, it was a very good thing that I was so excited about it.
I stick in front of the tree, gently touching the weathered
bark, the scars on the tree like a brightly colored word, is engraved on the years! I quietly stroked, as if reading an intriguing story, and bitter and beautiful. Swallow murmuring, spring breeze, I seem to be back to that early spring, only, the pear tree blossomed, and I was stronger.
Read it, a thousand times not tired. Yes, I read it, even if
The fate is difficult, life is not as good as expected, do not retreat. As long as the heart of the wisp of flowers, you can continue to interpret the story of growth, bloom a tree of flowers, harvest sweet fruit.
The flower as the topic of the essay 2
July time, hot summer, but let me miss the March and April humid rainy season, remembering that the blooming tree can not be called out the name of the flower, the road on both sides of the Pavilion, but also the colorful Ying Ying, paved the ground, the beauty of the season.
The beauty of things can always pull up the heart of that inexplicable frustration and touched, indefinable, indefinable. Now I think, it is the psychology of the loss, disappointment is not know when to lose, touched is the moment of possession. Sometimes there is always a little sigh of relief, people are always so complex, not to cherish the moment, but to the later sentimental.
The scorching summer, this bustling city is full of flowers, parks, roadsides, buildings in front of the endless flowers, or delicate, or fresh, or bright, or dark, and I always also hurry, not hurry to their beautiful cast a glance of surprise. A lot of good things in their own inadvertently become the past, wait until one day to remember Fang realized that they have long lost their shadow.
Work and the city's famous park adjacent to the occasional morning first to the company when they will step into the park, the door always feel out of place with this. In and out of most of the middle-aged and elderly people mainly, occasionally some small children holding the old grandparents hand shaking walking in the path between the only themselves, a young man, carrying a small bag, handbag young woman. But this sense of alienation does not hinder my interest in the garden tour.
The park does not know how big it is, seems to have been here several times, each time from a different door to come in, and from a different door to go out, only to remember that each door has undefeated flowers, I can not call out the name of the flowers, colorful, petals, however, they can not be deep in my favorite. The reason I don't like them is not because they are good, but they are just a kind of decoration, for the pleasure of visitors to be placed here, one day after the decay will have no place for them. In contrast, those quietly growing in the corner of the tree, the lake in the waterfront of the wildflowers and grasses can attract my attention, the hands of the shooting tool often for them to press the shutter. Perhaps one day, these wildflowers will be gardeners ruthlessly eradicated, but they are free to grow over, not to please others, only for themselves.
There is a path in the park is very much my favorite, the path on both sides of the planted two rows of trees, a kind of tree will bloom. A flower with five petals, the color is lavender, looks like a zinnia. When the wind blew, the petals fell slowly, walking under the rain of flowers, always imagining a couple of hand in hand in front, the corners of the mouth will unconsciously rise.
For flowers, they like those long in the tree Phoenix flowers, kapok ...... they are high up, their beauty is not to the world to pander to the world, not because they want to be praised and drooping, if you want to glance at its fragrance, can only tilt up their heads, only when they are defeated will let people take a close look at the decadence of the remaining after the aroma, the last of the beauty printed on the world's heart. The only way to get to the bottom of this is to get a close-up look at the aftermath of the decline.
The summer wind is always mixed with restless emotions, as if contagious, each passer-by's face as if they were knitting their brows. Walking on the sidewalk, looking at the guardrail on the flowers, their white petals covered with dust, lost the original flawless, but also lost those who appreciate the eyes. Under the scorching sun, they quietly dress up the city's roads, but no one for them to stop, out of the blue, I would like to be in the summer flowers bloom season, gently folded down a small unknown white flowers, don't in the lapel, to meet with a different kind of eyes fluttering to embark on a journey without an end.
The flower as the topic of the essay 3
Brother, your blue chrysanthemums will not wither
The beautiful grassland hovering above a lonely eagle, its eyes like electricity, looking down at the vast Mongolian steppe, it found a group of white fat sheep, but it is indifferent, because next to the flock of sheep there is an archer, he is a young Mongolian ... ...Soma, Soma from the age of five began to learn archery, now his archery has been practiced a hundred shots, the lonely eagle on this body trembled, fluttering wings to fly away. The sun gradually set the mountain, the afterglow dyed the grassland golden red golden red. In the distance, a teenager is riding a white horse to drive the sheep in the dusk of the sunset gradually disappeared, constituting a vivid picture. Soma came to the front of the yurt, he beat the sheep into the fence, jumped off his horse and walked inside. "Brother, brother, why are you back now?" Soma's sister Meiduo pulled up her brother's hand, with tears still in her eyes. Soma's heart was also very sad, their parents went together behind the mountain saying they would hunt wolves, and never came back after that. Now, he and his sister depend on each other, his sister is his only family, he is also his sister's only dependence. Soma took his sister in his arms and said to her, "Meadow, tomorrow I'll take you to the river in the back of the mountains to play, okay, there are a lot of horse deer there." His sister was happy to hear that, but in fact she didn't want to go there to play, she just wanted to be with her brother. Early the next morning, the sky just hung a bright star, Meadow can no longer sleep, she was full of joy to wake up her brother Soma, and her brother together on their tall white horse and set off. Along the way they admired the sunrise and the dew of dawn, listened to the pleasant chirping of birds and the tinkling of running water, and traveled a long, long way, but they did not feel a trace of fatigue. "Here we are," Soma said, carrying his sister off the horse and jumping off himself. Meadow's eyes lit up, "The river is so beautiful in the spring!" She ran up and down the river, which was covered in marjoram flowers, decorating the area like a wonderland. Suddenly, two gunshots rang out, and two marabou jumped out of the forest and ran fast, startling Meadow, who hurriedly hid by her brother Soma's side, and in a short time two more hunters jumped out of the forest, armed with long rifles, and shouted, "There they are! Don't let them get away!" Chasing after them in the direction in which the horse and deer had run. Soma was furious, he decided he had to do something about his favorite animal, he told his sister to wait for him by the river, and alone he mounted his horse and stopped in front of the two hunters, "Stop it, who are you to hurt these innocent animals!" "Get out of the way" one of the hunters snarled at Soma "Mind your own business or you'll be treated badly." Said he grabbed Soma's clothes and ripped him off the horse, Soma and the hunter rolled into a ball, the hunter was no match for Soma, the other hunter saw the situation and panicked, aiming his icy gun at Soma, with a 'bang', blood gushed out of Soma's chest. "Brother ...... brother!" Meadow cried as the two hunters fled, Meadow ran to Soma and took his brother's hand. The sun went down ...... On this day, many years later, Meadow walked to her brother's grave, took out her brother's flute, stroked it, and in her hand plucked a blue chrysanthemum that her brother had often plucked for her, "O blue chrysanthemum! What do you expect? May your petals never fade, blue daisies."
Some people love the rich and noble peony, some people love the dignified and generous orchid, some `people love the fragrance of the jasmine, and some people love the graceful moon - I, however, love the autumn chrysanthemums proud of the wind and frost.
The courage to fight with the wind and frost, this is the nature of the autumn chrysanthemum, can also be said to be its character, habits. In the late autumn season, the wind and frost pounced at the autumn chrysanthemum, the autumn chrysanthemum did not hesitate to meet the challenge of the wind and frost, the wind and frost could not do anything to the autumn chrysanthemum, but it did not die, the wind and frost was bigger, wanting to make the autumn chrysanthemum yield, the autumn chrysanthemum was not afraid to face it bravely, and the wind and frost could take it how it was!
Autumn chrysanthemum is beautiful, like a little angel in the late fall, to bring people the warmth of the soul. That kind of proud frost and blooming spirit is more valuable. It is not in the spring and March open, but in the flowers withered in the late fall bloom, different varieties of chrysanthemums compete to open, beautiful. Single, side by side, full bloom, dense as stars, a colorful. Some of them are flying; some of them are standing; some of them are small and exquisite; some of them are complicated and huge; some of them are as serene as moonlight; some of them are as gentle as feathers. The red ones, the white ones, the yellow ones - they are delightful.
The colorful chrysanthemums, in a thousand shapes and sizes, some like fountains, blooming gold and silver threads; some like hydrangea flowers, ringed into a cluster; some like anemones, with curved petals. The striking cliff chrysanthemums blossomed, standing tall on the trellis, like a peacock opening its screen, like a phoenix spreading its wings, and like a young girl dragging her skirts, standing tall. Nearby, the red fire red, yellow gold, layers of flowers together, like a small pom-pom, stamens like a small mushroom. White flowers have another interest: a single layer of petals, sparse, like an enlarged crystalline snowflakes, and the green stamens are not dense, like many silkworm eggs, crowded one by one. Red, white and yellow flowers from the pot hanging down, long, wide, just like a colorful waterfall, a majestic momentum! And the "Fuji Snow Peak", is a snow-white case of chrysanthemums, petals and thick and more, the middle of the curved petals slightly rolled inward, the outermost petals slightly stretched out, the whole flower becomes a rounded, from a distance, like an imposing snow mountain, the sturdy branches and trunks of a few pieces of green leaves outstretched, like a grassland under the mountain! The flower is a very beautiful and beautiful.
Autumn chrysanthemum grows in the late autumn, it does not matter how bad the weather, still flourishing and full of life; its spirit of perseverance, as if fighting with the cold; it quietly embellish the nature, and yet they do not want anything. Grandpa said to me: "Chrysanthemum is a famous flower, it is not only beautiful, but also a kind of traditional Chinese medicine, use it to make tea, it is even more fresh and refreshing".
I have seen the beautiful and outstanding moon season, admired the peony, however, I like this soft in the strong autumn chrysanthemum. I gazed at the chrysanthemums for a long time, as if I saw millions of ordinary workers selflessly dedicating themselves to the motherland; as if I saw the border posts, the People's Liberation Army uncle holding the steel gun and vigilant eyes; and as if I saw the drilling rigs, the oil workers busy figure and a little bit of mud - are they not as ordinary as the chrysanthemums? Yes, however, they all have a hard-working, courageous spirit, and have the confidence to revitalize China. Just like the chrysanthemum, they do not choose conditions, are not afraid of difficulties and obstacles, and contribute their life's strength to the prosperity of the motherland in their ordinary posts. I love chrysanthemums, and I love people with the quality of chrysanthemums, who struggle and work for the motherland's tomorrow.