Ancient poetry creation

"Silver candle cold painting screen, light luo small fan flapping fireflies. It's as cool as water at night, sitting and watching the morning cow and the weaver girl. " This is an ancient poem "Autumn Night", which describes the extremely beautiful scenery. It is this beautiful story that fascinates me with ancient poetry. Whenever I see ancient poetry, I can't extricate myself! When I was a child, my grandmother and I loved Tang poetry and listened to her recite all kinds of sad and desolate ancient poems all day. Over time, under the influence of my grandmother, I also became poetic and emotional. I often take the initiative to read all kinds of ancient poems.

Don't laugh at the farmhouse music brewed in the muddled month. In the harvest month, the dishes for guests are very rich. There is no way to go because of the winding water flow in the mountains, and a mountain village suddenly appears in the willow-green flower bay. The first two sentences of this ancient poem express the simplicity and friendliness of farmers. The last two sentences describe a beautiful scenery with mountains and rivers. At first, I suspected that there was no road. Suddenly, my eyes lit up, willow trees flourished and flowers were beautiful. This is also a beautiful village, just like a paradise. There is a profound truth in the last two sentences: there is always infinite hope in adversity. As long as you work hard and dare to explore, a brand-new bright world will appear! Ancient poetry can also inspire us with useful truth.

Ancient poetry is a combination of painting and writing, which constitutes a beautiful picture, cultivates my sentiment, brings me beautiful enjoyment and makes me addicted to it. I almost never leave my hand. I often fantasize about what my views and feelings would be like if I were a poet. After a long time, I became sentimental.

No matter how I express my love for ancient poetry, in short, I love your ancient poetry! I have benefited a lot from you. I not only gained knowledge, but also purified my mind!

Composition of Ancient Poetry (2)

Take a lonely boat and relive the long river of history. What attracts me most is still ...

When you look up, you will think of "a row of egrets in the sky"; Looking down, you will think, "Will there be frost already?" ; When you look at the river, you will think of "a river flowing eastward"; When the leaves wither, you will think, "I say autumn is better than spring."

I like ancient poems. Singing a song "Good Jiangnan", the beautiful artistic conception makes people linger, I like it. Singing a song "Although the tortoise has a long life", "Old and vigorous" comes to mind at random, which I like. Hum an untitled, selfless dedication, candle silkworm, I like it.

In my opinion, vernacular Chinese is too monotonous and classical Chinese is too boring. Only ancient poems, I really like them. When you are frustrated and want to back down, think about Du Fu's words, "Reach the top, the other mountains all appear dwarfs under the sky.." Be full of blood and aim high. I appreciate it and admire it. I said I want to learn from Du Fu, and I want to understand this poem thoroughly. I am willing to work hard and strive hard. I also want to see the joy of success after the sweat of hard work!

From poetry, I saw beauty, unparalleled beauty and unique beauty.

I saw the leisure of Tao Yuanming's "picking chrysanthemums under the east fence and seeing Nanshan leisurely"; I have seen Confucius' ambition to "climb Mount Tai and be small in the world"; I saw the sincerity of Li Bai's "Peach Blossom Pond is deeper than thousands of feet, not as good as Wang Lun". I saw the melancholy of Li Qingzhao's sentence that "everything is a person who is not doing anything."

In the dead of night, I appreciate ancient poems, and the bright moonlight sheds beautiful seeds. I wandered in the alley, expressing the originality of "parting, dying and giving up". Oh, lovely ancient poems brought me into a wonderful and pleasant mood.

The trace of sunset and dusk, the trace of withered flowers and leaves, were all taken into my heart by ancient poems. After reading it, it was engraved into my soul. Whispering, "I am a kite with a broken line, and no one knows how to make it dissipate." Turn into a wisp of smoke, the years will run aground, and you will brush your poems. Don't go further and further. Have a drink. Oh, these words, I am no longer a broken string. The wind is blowing again, and my heart will not leave. "

I learned a lot from ancient poems. I know life can't be peaceful. () In this case, I will learn to bear it, join hands with my favorite ancient poems and contend with the so-called fate! In my world, there is only a solitary sail, and the wind and waves are too big. I have also fallen, and it is ancient poetry that has taught me to be strong. "Asserting that Qingshan does not relax, the roots are broken. A thousand blows are still strong, and the wind is east, west, north and south. " I swear to set off the most beautiful wave in my life!

The future voyage will not be smooth sailing. I have ancient poems. I will sit firmly in my boat and sail for my dream. "The wind knows the power of grass, and it will wither when it is cold." The grass is still strong, so naturally I shouldn't be timid. We should all. Ancient poetry, endless words, endless feelings!

Composition of Ancient Poetry (3)

Shashasha! Shashasha! "It is raining again. Rain, as light as cow hair, as fine as silk thread, and dust as fog, falls from the sky. The rain fell gently on the branches, and the buds on the branches drilled their lovely little heads, opened their beautiful little eyes and looked at everything around them curiously. The rain fell quietly on the grass, and the grass stubbornly pulled open the soil pressed on it, trying to break free. It stretched, yawned and began to greedily suck the dew of spring. A pile of grass here, a pile of grass there, covered the earth with a layer of green clothes. There are colorful flowers in the grass, including yellow rape, red roses, purple bougainvillea and white tulips, which are competing to open and compete for beauty. A few swallows buzzed in the air, as if to say, "Spring is coming! Spring is so beautiful! "

But such a beautiful scenery in the rain can't attract the attention of pedestrians coming and going on the road. They come and go in a hurry, and they are all preoccupied Some pedestrians are carrying brooms and offering sacrifices to sweep graves, thinking of their dead relatives and feeling very sad; Some leave their homes and go out to make a living, with uncertain future and depressed mood; Some people walk on the road of visiting relatives and friends, their future is uncertain, and they are more upset. The gloomy sky overhead made their mood heavier in the light rain.

Among the pedestrians, a scholar-like person is particularly eye-catching. He is Du Mu. He is thin, white-skinned, wearing a hat and carrying a bag. Mutu's gaunt face and frown formed the word "Sichuan". He shook his head and sighed as he walked. He has been on the road for several days, and this kind of "bad weather" is overcast and rainy everywhere, which makes him depressed. At this moment, his stomach growled with hunger and his throat seemed to smoke with thirst. How much he wants to find a place to rest, eat a hot meal, fill his stomach, drink some old wine, quench his thirst, warm himself up, and then have a good sleep. However, this man is a stranger. Where can he find a restaurant?

Suddenly, there was a clear and melodious flute in the distance. That voice is so crisp and sweet. Du Mu's spirit can't help it. He looked up and looked around, only to see a scalper coming head on, with a shepherd boy sitting on his back. He is about eleven or twelve years old, with a red face and bright big eyes. He is somewhat clever, cute and naughty. Mutu believes that there are villages where there are shepherds, and restaurants where there are villages. By the way, shall I ask him? Thinking of this, he stepped forward and asked politely, "Little brother, is there a restaurant here?" When the shepherd boy saw him, he nodded, smiled, grimaced at him and pointed in the direction behind him with a flute, meaning: Go ahead and there will be a restaurant. Mutu understood that he quickly thanked the shepherd boy, cheered up and stepped forward. Sure enough, soon, a village was looming in the rain and fog, where the roads were full of apricot flowers, and several wine lids danced in the wind, as if waving to him ... Mutu was excited and inspired, and a seven-character quatrain blurted out:

It rained a lot during my stay in Tomb-Sweeping Day.

Pedestrians on the road want to die.

Excuse me, where is the restaurant?

The shepherd boy just laughed and didn't answer Xingshan Village.