Fatherly love topic composition

No matter in school or in society, everyone has the experience of writing a composition and is familiar with it. With the help of composition, people can achieve the purpose of cultural exchange. Still at a loss for composition? The following is my father's composition on the topic of love, which is for reference only. I hope it will help you.

Fatherly love topic composition 1 There is a kind of love, deep, but deep into the bone marrow, into the blood, affecting every nerve of fatherly love.

Notes before the text of a book or after the title of an article.

My father is unsmiling and gives people a sense of distance, but I don't like him either. As long as I can remember, he hasn't hugged me and won't make me happy. Too many people have no initiative and have a distance.

When I was a child, I fell down by bike. I would sit on the ground and cry and beg my father to help me up, with tears of begging. However, he just stood there looking at me from a distance, watching me get up angrily.

Every time I have a parent-teacher conference, he doesn't sit with me, just looks at me from a distance and stands by. I remember that time, the school organized a "grateful parents" activity, and every classmate's parents stood by their children. When everyone was in tears in that colorful speech, every classmate snuggled up to his parents and hugged them tightly. On the other hand, I craned my neck to look back. At that moment, I wished my father could come, but he didn't. He just stood in the distance with a straight face.

After the activity, I ran to find him. He looked at me and said, "Why are you crying? Those are all lies. " Say that finish, he went straight away.

I hated him after that. Every time I see him, I will hide far away, and I can't help but feel a sense of fear.

With the passage of time and years, I gradually understood this book called Father.

School started that day, because the road was under construction, it became very muddy, and cars were stuck on that narrow road. I said, "I'll just walk in myself. You go first! " After that, I picked up my bag and planned to leave. "Have you brought everything? The weather is dry in autumn, drink more water at school, eat on time, and don't be picky about food. " "I know, I know, you go quickly, there are many cars behind." I said impatiently.

I turned to go, and my parents and students stood in the way. Because I am weak, I can't squeeze those people and keep colliding with them. I don't know where my father comes from. Just when I was wondering, he was holding my hand and carrying my schoolbag. It turns out that he has never left. He sent me to the school gate and said, "study hard, I'm leaving." He turned his head and looked at the silver thread in his hair and his hunched back, and my eyes blurred. For a long time, I looked at his back and shouted, "Dad, slow down on the road." Dad paused and strode forward again.

Those scenes have been playing in my mind, and I burst into tears and suddenly realized.

It turned out that my father never forgot me, but I was stubborn and never found out.

It turns out that fatherly love is not silent.

Fatherly Love Topic Composition 2 "Father is a ladder in heaven, and father is a cow pulling a cart"-Inscription

Father's love is like rain, nourishing our growth.

Father's love is like a high wall, which helps us keep out the wind and rain.

Father's love is like a lamp, guiding us forward.

Fatherly love is great and selfless. Up to now, I still remember that time. I had a quarrel with my father and went to make up lessons by myself. It was winter. After finishing the class, I walked out of the cram school. The cold wind blew on my face and I sneezed. Well, it's my fault that I didn't put on more clothes when I left, but every time I take the train, I think it won't be cold after taking the train, so I immediately go to the station. When I arrived at the station, I stamped my feet and put my hand into my pants. I was suddenly in a hurry. My money is missing. At this time, I turned my pants several times, so I had to go without money.

I walk on the road, the dark night is calm, and the nearest road to home is this road, but the only drawback is that there are no street lamps and few people live here. I walked on, and the cold wind blew on my face, making me tremble a few times. The creaking sound of my stepping on the snow scared me. Suddenly, I saw a black shadow, standing motionless in the snow. I'm even more scared. By this time, I had connected all the nightmares I had had. I feel a pair of eyes looking at me behind me. The cold wind made me feel a cold hand touching me. My hands are sweating a little. I suddenly made up my mind and ran home without thinking about anything.

When I found that I had finished the road, my feet were numb with cold, my shoes were full of snow, and I was panting. Then I saw a figure in front of me. He is dressed very thinly, but he seems to have a dress in his hand. I stood still, staring at the man to see who he was. Ah, it's my father. My father saw me and called my name.

""It's good to correct mistakes, "my father said kindly. I left my father's arms and saw the clothes in his hand. This is my dress. I looked at him again. His clothes have been blown up by the wind. Looking at my father, I feel terrible. My father said, "put it on, I know you don't wear much." "Well, I answered excitedly. When I put on my clothes, I feel warm. This dress is warm, but not as warm as before. Dad said, "Let's go, the meal is ready." I nodded and went home with my father, but my eyes were already rosy.

Father's love is selfless, and he can tolerate children. Father loves as much as Xinjiang!

Father's Love Topic Composition When I was 3 years old, you provoked heavy work with your thin shoulders, leaving a vicissitudes and boring life in your memory. Fifty years of ups and downs have passed by in a hurry. The history you wrote down is so wasted, and time and life are so precious and important to you at every moment.

Over the years, you have carried too much, and the running time has written down your greatness and loneliness. You also have childhood, you also have youth, and you also have those beautiful memories and happy gambling. I can feel the warmth of home from your hearty laughter, and I can see the greatness of father's love from your loving smile. Kind you always love to whistle out the most beautiful music in the world, serious you always look at me with that kind of deep eyes, give me strength and make me strong. Ordinary you are playing wonderful music in your own land.

I deeply remember that riding on your back as a child was like sitting on a mountain, which made me feel very safe and practical. I always hide in your arms when I am afraid, and the memory you give me is warmth. You love to laugh, and you always smile naturally and brightly. You always do things so readily, from which I can appreciate your chivalrous spirit and elegant demeanor. Your character is like Li Bai. You are wild and unruly. You use a poem called "Walking out of the sky with a smile". Are we Artemisia people? " In your laughter, I can hear the indulgence and open-mindedness of an authentic Shandong man.

You have lived in this fertile land since childhood, and the beautiful scenery here records your ups and downs. In my life, you said you didn't want to be a farmer. I can clearly see that your helplessness, your strength and your indomitable will are all written on your face. Every time I go home, I see wrinkles on your weather-beaten face, silver silk on your forehead and calluses between your fingers. It's not as comfortable as before. Your eyebrows and eyes clearly show your dissatisfaction and helplessness with life, but your eyes tell me that you are fearless and indomitable. You raised our three brothers with your life, you educated us with all your energy, and you shouldered this family with generous shoulders.

Under your influence, now I am running for that dream in your heart. I believe I will create miracles, kiss my dream to create brilliance, and tell myself that courage is the best weapon and the wing of success. Look, the road ahead is shining with golden light!

Fatherly Love Topic Composition 4 "Only Mothers are Good in the World" is a well-known ballad. Indeed, maternal love is great and selfless. I have believed this song since I was a child, and with hundreds of poems praising my mother, I especially like my mother. So, my father became a stranger who lived with me for a long time.

As far as I can remember, I was raised by my father. My mother just came back from other places three years ago. I have been clinging to her since she came back. I am a complete "dutiful son" in front of her. This is not fake, I like it from the bottom of my heart, but I have never done this to a father who raised me for several years. In my mind, there is only "maternal love" and nothing else.

Probably because of the scarcity of maternal love since childhood, I especially cherish my mother's love for me, but what my father gave me was a sharp contrast: bad temper, beating and cursing, and I was trembling with fear. I don't want to recall, and I dare not recall. Every time I think about it, I can hear myself sobbing in a low voice and see my trembling hands. The word "fatherly love" was completely erased from my dictionary from that moment on.

At noon that day, I came home from class and my father was lying in bed taking a nap. I don't know why, I stopped at the door and looked at my father. His snoring is not even. This is the first time I have looked at my father so carefully after several years: when did the wrinkles on his forehead climb up? When did your hair turn white? Is father really old?

I was fascinated. I saw the scene when I was a child: when my father sat under the lamp and made me a slingshot with wire; When I was wandering around on my father's generous shoulders; When my father asked me what I would do if he left one day, I naively replied that my father would always be by my side ... My father's face gradually became blurred from clear. At the moment when the tears were dripping, I was scared myself. I didn't know what to do at the moment, so I hurried back to my room.

It was that day that I really understood fatherly love. It turns out that my father's love for me has never stopped, but the way is not as straightforward as maternal love, but this kind of love is as great and selfless as maternal love. Maybe it's because I never lost my father's love, so I'm used to it and numb. Because you are insensitive to love and sensitive to hate, your love for your father is denied.

Father's love is like a cup of tea, with bitterness in sweetness and sweetness in bitterness. Only by careful tasting can we deeply appreciate its sweetness and enjoy it for a long time.

Fatherly love topic composition 5 Fatherly love is like a mountain, and maternal love is like water. Father is the pillar of a family. With a father, one day, he will take on responsibilities and jobs that we can't imagine. My father is the sun, my mother is the moon, I am the grass, and I grew up in my father's sunshine; Father is a breeze, mother is rain and dew, and I am a seed, growing up with my father; My father is a boat, my mother is a sail, I am a walker, and my father is driving me to the other side of my ideal.

Father is strict in life, and his strictness is sometimes kind;

It was a summer night. Although the sun has set, it is already dark. However, the sky is still sultry. I sat by the window and looked at my father's love composition. I don't know. I tore off the paper again and threw it into the wastebasket that I couldn't hold any more. Those waste papers, like ferocious monsters, dragged me into trouble, and the stuffy air was even more unbearable. After a while, a light came into my room. It was my dad. I said impatiently, "What!" "Dad was startled by my roar and said incoherently," Nothing, look, look, you are taking a nap. I'll give you a cup of hot tea to refresh yourself. " Say and put the tea on the table, quietly left. I didn't care either. I continued to write my composition. The bright moonlight shines on me at night. Several cold winds blew, and I couldn't help shivering. Looked at his watch, it was 1 1 o. At this time, the light appeared in front of my eyes again, and I shouted, "What are you doing? "I haven't finished my composition yet!" I knew it was my father, but I didn't look at him. My father put on a dress for me, looked at me kindly and disappeared into the night. I looked at my clothes, at the steaming tea, at the clock of 1 1, and saw my father's old figure. My heart aches faintly. This is an old father's love for his children, and this is an old father's love for his children!

I seem to see that a few white hairs have fallen off my father's head, and some wrinkles have climbed up my father's forehead. I seem to see that a gray hair of my father and a wrinkle of my father are all born for me.

If I were a poet, I would write a long poem to praise his love for children.

If I were a painter, I would paint his old back.

If I were a writer, I would praise his love for children with the most beautiful articles in the world.

If I were a musician, I would use the most magnificent notes in the world to express his expectations for children.

With this in mind, I added two words after "fatherly love": "speechless".

How can I describe this bowl of soup?

In front of it, there is a strong fragrance, and several small heads are exposed on the dark yellow liquid surface. More interestingly, there are even floating "islands" inside. Curiosity drove me to stir it gently with a spoon, revealing the true face of the soup: a handful of red dates, a chicken leg and several medlars ... they made this unique soup, and the thick aroma was emitted and floated into the nostrils. ...

This is the soup that my father brought back to me himself. I seldom drink her soup since my father went to town. On the other end of the phone, I seemed to hear a faint sadness. She was exhausted by working day and night and unsatisfactory business. However, she still did not forget to infuse her daughter with the nutrition of love. When the price rose sharply, she took time to stew black-bone chicken soup for me herself. Isn't this thick soup the best interpretation of deep love?

I picked up the spoon, gently scooped a spoonful, for fear of scaring the deep yellow, and then moved the spoon to the nose to let it enjoy its unique aroma first, and then put it in my mouth to savor this love. There was a bitter taste of medicine in the thick soup, and I swallowed it hard. What kind of good intentions is this? The senior high school entrance examination is just around the corner, and my father is afraid that I can't stand the study pressure of all subjects. He skillfully combined the bitter taste of tonic with the soup and told me that I must learn to endure hardships in order to win the fruit of the senior high school entrance examination. The so-called bitter comes sweet, and soon, a sweet smell hit my tongue

With a bang, the naughty jujube jumped down from the air with a spoon, and I turned my attention to it again. Xiaozao is wearing a T-shirt, and most of his "arms" are exposed. Although the thin jujube skin was damaged, she tried her best to protect jujube meat with her own body. Looking at it, an inexplicable feeling welled up in my heart: isn't father such a person? Even if I live far apart from my daughter, I don't forget to care about her, give me spiritual encouragement, be my daughter's strong backing, and let her have a strong body to accept the test of the senior high school entrance examination.

There is encouragement in ups and downs, and care in fragrance. This is the most delicious soup I have ever tasted. Naughty air leads the heat in the soup and hides in an unknown corner. And I, still sitting quietly, savoring its fragrance. ...

Father's Love Topic Composition 7 When I was growing up, I seldom got the care of my parents, and I was able to grow up healthily.

Among them, my father's love for me can't be left in my mind.

I remember one Saturday, the teacher asked everyone to write a composition entitled "Persuade Dad to Quit Smoking". At that time, I thought to myself: Dad never smokes. How should I write it? I think hard, but I still can't figure it out. My eyebrows twisted into a word "chuan" Dad looked at me in a hurry and asked me, "What's the matter?" I heard this and told my father about it. After listening, he casually said, "Then imagine that I often smoke." But stubborn, I refused, saying, "If you don't smoke, I won't advise you. I can't write! " "At that time, after hearing this, my father immediately walked out of the house.

I thought to myself: Is Dad angry with me? Five minutes later, my father suddenly came back. I saw a lit cigarette in his hand! I think it's strange! Dad doesn't smoke. What does he do with a cigarette when he is free? Dad seems to have read my mind and even smoked a few cigarettes! I coughed several times before I saw him spit out smoke rings. I looked at his painful expression and said a lot of words to persuade people to quit smoking when I was in a hurry. My father said, "Why don't you write down what you just advised me to do?" Dad coughed several times when he said a word. At that time, I was so moved that I couldn't speak and hugged my father tightly.

Dad is a man who is not good at words. He pays more attention to me, supports me and accompanies me. I clearly remember my first trip after I learned to ride a bike. To show my courage, I refused my father's company. Just when I was on cloud nine, a big truck suddenly came. When I was in a hurry, the handlebar swayed from side to side, lost its balance and fell heavily on the ground. At that moment, I wish my father could be by my side to help me! At that critical moment, my father descended from the sky like an airborne soldier and came to the rescue. At this time, I really realized that my father was my protector. My father's care, love and support nourish my body and mind.

Dad's love penetrated into my heart, a seed of love gradually expanded in my heart, and a grateful heart grew from my heart. This kind of love has accompanied me through a wonderful childhood and will lead to a brilliant tomorrow. ...

Fatherly love topic composition 8 Some people say: Fatherly love is like poetry. Some people say that a father loves a mountain. But I think a father's love is like a root.

Isn't it? If home is a lush tree, then the trunk connecting the leaves is my mother, the green leaves are me, and the roots buried deep underground are my father. It is because of my down-to-earth roots that I support the world I love, let me fly in the vast sky of my father's love like a bird, and let me swim in the warm ocean of my father's love like a small fish.

In my memory, I thought my father didn't love me very much, because I often saw my father's serious face and heard his stern tone. Dad brought me more tears of injustice, and today, when I dug up three thick "My Growth Diary" written by my father, I was almost dumbfounded. There are hundreds of thousands of words, both handwritten and printed, which record my growth and reveal a true feeling of my father between the lines. So I couldn't help crying, and I couldn't help feeling "strict father is a loving father" to my father.

I even feel a little ungrateful when I think about it. In fact, from birth to now, I have a little-known "power" to sleep and kick the quilt. I also have a stubborn "old friend" who comes whenever I catch a cold. His tonsils are inflamed, and he has a cold, fever and cough, which makes his father very nervous all the time. When I swim in the sweet dream kingdom every night, the quilt is always quietly left by me.

At this time, my father always comes quietly and tucks me in at midnight. Especially in winter, my father came out of the warm bed and put on a cold coat to cover me with a quilt. How determined he is. Once, I just woke up and vaguely saw my father shivering with cold, carefully covering me with a quilt.

I thought: Dad, that's enough. As a result, the "night owl" father is always listless during the day, sometimes yawning all over the sky, and he will fall into inexplicable pain because he often catches cold. Sometimes I play dumb and say, "Dad, is there a sleepy head in your head?" Dad pointed at my little nose and laughed it off. "There is a bug that always sleeps in our house." Now that I think about it, didn't this kind of thing last for ten years by the power of love?

Yes, we should acknowledge our father's love, and we can't ignore his existence. If we observe attentively, we will find that what you need to be grateful for in this world is your father, because fatherly love is like a root, and fatherly love is also a beautiful song.