Homesickness masterpiece
Homesickness excellent composition 1 What is homesickness? Homesickness is Fan Zhongyan's "Manage Yu Shuang everywhere, people don't sleep, and generals have white hair and tears"; Homesickness is Du Fu's "where petals flow like tears, and lonely birds sing their grief". For me, homesickness is my homesickness caused by this spark.
My hometown should start with my grandparents. My great grandfather's home is in Henan, which is a beautiful country-Queshan County. Until my grandparents left there and came to Zibo. Queshan is also my hometown. Speaking of it, few people may know about this small town, but there is a national famous intangible cultural heritage-Tiehua.
Strike while the iron is hot, as the name implies, is to sprinkle molten iron into the sky. Although it looks simple, it is also a technical job. The origin can be traced back to the Spring and Autumn Period. At that time, it was a weapon, but over time, it has become an art, an art that shocked you.
I have been back to Henan once before and seen Tiehua once. It was during the Lantern Festival. I saw two men carrying a big bucket of molten iron, and one of them had a willow spoon hanging on his waist. According to fellow villagers, this willow spoon was burned, and only willow trees that can withstand fire can soak it for 7749 days and make it into a spoon. When Tiehua was hit, the scene was extremely macro: a bunch of people were stopped behind a line and the bridge was crowded with people. The performer fished the wooden spoon into the molten iron at 1600℃ and scattered it into the sky.
In an instant, the sky is full of hype, just like the goddess scattering flowers, iron flowers flying all over the sky, condensing into tiny iron particles from the sky, and some even evaporated. The formation of this phenomenon may be due to the addition of some chemical substance. Time and time again, iron flowers fly, people cheer and jump for joy, and homesickness arises spontaneously.
I don't know what makes the performers endure the burning of hot iron and skin. Don't they hurt? How can they stand it? Why are they working so hard? They are for the homesickness in the hearts of wanderers! They satisfied the homesickness of wanderers and helped a teenager realize a dream of returning home.
Strike while the iron is hot is a feast for the senses and a shocking performance. But all I know is that it is the antidote to homesickness. Every time I think of this performance, I feel a warm current in my heart.
Perhaps the homesickness in this spark will stay at that moment, at this moment.
The fallen leaves were lifted by a breeze, so it's time to go to Beijing to catch the exam. In desperation, I had to pack my bags and set out overnight.
Seeing that the whole family was asleep, I couldn't bear to wake them up. Full of green, a small courtyard, is full of vitality. Even in normal times, I am tired of parents' nagging and children's naughty, but at this moment, I can't help but feel very nostalgic.
It's getting light, so it's time to start. The first time I was far from home in a crow.
Time flies, in the non-stop trekking day and night, I finally have only one month left to arrive.
Suddenly, there was a loud noise and the horse screamed. We hurried to an inn.
"Welcome, come in." I tied my horse in the backyard and thought, why not rest for two days before leaving? I think the horse must be tired, too.
The rain gradually stopped and I came to the yard by the faint moonlight.
In the dark night, a very beautiful tree loomed. The green leaves on the tree set off the dense flowers, and even under the night sky, they look particularly shiny and spring.
At the moment, I don't know what happened to my parents, although I think of burrow. I wonder if I have received a letter from home. A deep homesickness stuck in my heart, and a few lines of tears fell from my face.
Although there are too many disappointments, I hope that through my efforts, my family can be proud of me and make me their pride.
Unconsciously, the dazzling sunshine brought me back to reality. At this time, the flowers under the sunshine are more beautiful. I climbed the branch and picked the most beautiful bunch of flowers. I want to give them to my relatives who miss me day and night, but that's too far away. I just hope my relatives can feel my heart.
It's time to start over. I waved goodbye to the inn and courtyard that brought me good memories. ...
What should come will always come. Finally, the day of the exam came. I walked into the examination room with anxiety and walked out with a relaxed mood. Although I am nervous about the exam, I am very happy when I think that I can meet my relatives soon.
I drove home in a brisk carriage, only to see that the road to home was getting closer and closer. ...
In everyone's heart, there is a very beautiful homesickness, which will always shine with the sun and the moon and grow old with the world.
This homesickness, like a thin long gold thread, will always tie us in the distance, because every wanderer is a kite flying high in the sky and wandering everywhere, and will always be firmly held in her warm hands by her hometown.
No matter how far you go, no matter how high you fly, no matter how big your official is, no matter how rich you are, even if you are poor, your hometown must be deeply lived and remembered in the softest heart of your life.
In the heart of every wanderer far away from home, the mountains in home are the greenest, the water in home is the most beautiful, the people in home are the closest, the flowers in home are the best, the moon in home is the roundest, the stars in home must be the brightest, and the fireflies in home will always shine like lanterns.
My hometown not only gave birth to each of us, but also nurtured each of us. My hometown has our closest relatives, my parents, my closest brothers and sisters, and our childhood friends. There is our most familiar home, our most fertile land, and the root of our eternal life.
In many dreams, people will return to their hometown again and again. How many quiet nights, I will mumble my thoughts to the moon, because this hanging moon must belong to my hometown, and more often it is as bright as my mother's smiling face.
Because there is such a complex that life is too deep and too deep, deep homesickness will always condense in people's hearts, just like wine brewed by the sea in the glory of the sun and the moon, which will be memorable in retrospect.
Nostalgia is beautiful, because it is always beautiful in our hearts. Homesickness poems are beautiful because they make our feelings more pure and beautiful. The homesickness song is beautiful, because it is like a small river, which slowly flows out of our hearts and pours our endless love for our hometown until our death.
Homesickness Excellent Composition 4 "When I was a child, homesickness was a small stamp. I am here and my mother is there. " When I grow up, homesickness is a narrow ticket ... "This is Homesickness written by Yu Guangzhong. In fact, this kind of homesickness can also be found in my father. Thick and sweet!
Homesickness is a kind of nostalgia. Dad misses the days when he used to play games with friends. At that time, there were many games: hopscotch, shuttlecock kicking, guerrilla fighting, eagle catching chickens, fishing, catching cicadas and so on. Among them, catching cicadas is the favorite of my father and friends. In summer, naked, holding a bamboo pole, separately looking for cobwebs everywhere. As soon as they found the cobwebs, they wrapped them with bamboo poles, kneaded them into a ball, dipped them in some water and then stuck them. The rest is to find the target. Follow the cicada's cry and look around for the cicada's position. After finding the target, I crept closer, raised the bamboo pole and stuck the cicada with a sticky ball. After catching cicada, friends are bigger than cicada, or tie cicada with thread and let it fly everywhere. That's a live kite.
Homesickness is a piece of writing paper. Because there was no telephone at that time, my father went to school and boarded out, so he could only write to his grandparents. Usually once a month, it mainly introduces your study or asks about your grandparents' physical condition. After writing a letter, you usually have to read it several times, then fold it carefully, then fill in the envelope, put the writing paper in the envelope and put it in the mailbox, and a missing letter will fly out. Look at now, although communication is developed, telephones, mobile phones, QQ and WeChat are all available, but the weight written on paper is gone, and homesickness is not so strong.
Homesickness is a concern, and my father is most concerned about grandpa's back. At that time, I had to catch a train early in the morning, and my grandmother got up at 3 o'clock to make a fire and cook. After dinner, grandpa carried his father's luggage over two hills and came to the roadside to wait for the bus. Dad followed grandpa, looking thin and slightly hunched, with tears in his eyes. While searching anxiously, grandpa told his father to take care of himself outside. The moment I got on the bus, I was sad but didn't say it. Grandpa sent his father hundreds of times, and his father owed him a tight hug. Grandpa 1 1 died years ago, which is a great regret of his father.
In fact, homesickness is hidden in the bits and pieces of life. As long as you feel with your heart, you can find it!
Homesickness is the joy of my childhood. In a small village near the Lishui River, there is a resounding name called Victory. Here, we catch river crabs with our shoes. Here, we ride cattle to graze. Here, we can fill a schoolbag by dropping four corners. Here, we fight wave after wave from the west to the east of the village. Here, we play with leaves as bowls and grass as vegetables. Here, the whole village is our children's paradise, and flowers and trees are our amusement facilities.
My homesickness is my middle school. A school in a small town has a beautiful name called Dongting. Here, we know Newton's law because an apple fell. Here, we don't know love, but we talk about who loves whom every day. Here, our hair styles are all the same, and the hair on the left side should cover our eyes. Here, we can laugh as much as we live in school and sleep in a cold quilt. Here, the school stays longer than at home, and the food at home is much better than at school.
My homesickness is my high school, a school in a small town, with an enviable name, No.1 Middle School. Our best time here is playing basketball. At that time, Jordan was the god in our hearts. Here, the data on our desk can drown our bodies. At that time, we were burdened with the hope of the whole family. Here, after the evening self-study, we ride bicycles on the deserted streets, perhaps to release the vitality and passion of youth. Here, we see the girl we like can't sleep well, can't eat well, and dare not hold hands when she is in a daze. Here, some students are still burning the midnight oil in the classroom, while others are enjoying themselves in Internet cafes.
My homesickness is my parents. The aging face and the long-gone white hair confirm the passage of time. Every time I leave home, I dare not turn around and wave with them. I am afraid that my wet eyes will be occupied by tears, and I am afraid that my reluctant eyes will touch the soft underbelly in my soul. It is the greatest sorrow in the world that children want to raise and not kiss. Poet Yu Guangzhong said that homesickness is a small stamp. I'm here and my mother is there. I said homesickness is a little kite. I am floating at this end, and my mother is leading me at that end.
May parents in the world be happy and healthy, and Happy Double Ninth Festival!
The weather is always gloomy these days. According to the weather forecast, it seems to have been raining these days, and my mother's mood is a little gloomy and unhappy like this weather. I asked my mother what was going on. My mother said that the wheat will be harvested in a few days. The weather is always like this. How can I harvest the crops? I said there is nothing to worry about when we harvest wheat at home. My mother picked me up and talked about their childhood.
My mother grew up in the countryside when she was a child. At that time, every family was farming. Most of the time, wheat harvesting is done by hand. My mother said that at that time, they cut the wheat in the field one by one with a sickle and then pulled it out one by one. This is not only wheat grains, but also the appearance of wheat ears growing on straw. Then adults will drive the wheat away and separate the grains from the ears of wheat. After the separation, it's not over yet. Adults still have to clean up the wheat poplars and put the wheat together. There are straws and the like, which need to be manually chopped and placed on the side that does not occupy land. At that time, the wheat was kept at home, unlike the big machines in the countryside now, which were directly taken away by the wheat harvester. It's very troublesome just to listen to mom. I said, why not use a machine to collect it? Manual labor is too tiring. My mother said there were no machines at that time. At that time, unlike now, most of the labor was done by hand. However, although we are very tired, everyone is happy and lively when we work. Several families help each other with their work, and everyone is talking and laughing.
Now, although there is a big machine for harvesting wheat, farming is not as tiring as before, but it is not as fun as before.
My mother said that she wanted to go back to the countryside this year, for nothing else, because that's where she was born and raised. Although it is not the same as before, it is gradually close to the life in the city, but it is also her root. She wants to go back and see. I don't understand why it's just a simple time to harvest wheat. It seems like a big deal to come to my mother.
Mom said I don't understand now, but I will understand her mood when I grow up.
Looking at my mother's glowing eyes when she talked about the countryside, I suddenly remembered two words I saw in a book: homesickness.
Maybe when I grow up and leave home, I will be somewhere, at a certain time, like my mother, thinking about that different place in my heart.
Excellent composition of homesickness 7 Simple wooden houses, ancient bridges and flowing water, gently open photos and slowly push away childhood memories.
Every time I hear my classmates talk about their hometown, I will think of her simple face, the face that has long since disappeared.
When babbling, I got along with her day and night. It took me three years to get to know her. Her black and white wooden house is my reliable reliance; Her ancient bridge is the beauty of my running; Her trickle is to let me enjoy the fun of water ... she has seen my childhood crying; She heard my childhood laughter; She witnessed my growing footsteps.
Like a drop of water on the tip of a needle in the sea, my days are dripping in the stream of time. Suddenly looking back, I found that I had left her for ten years. In front of the cabin, on the bridge, by the running water, I said goodbye to her. Childhood romance was twisted into a rope, pulling her at one end and me at the other.
Now, I am surrounded by a noisy metropolis, and she is still there. But she is not who she was ten years ago. The wooden house became a three-story country villa; The small bridge has already been painted with dazzling paint; The running water is no longer crystal clear. She has changed, but I still love her.
She is neither rich nor prosperous and unknown. She, a beautiful town-Zhuji, my hometown.
When I left her, I was just the ignorant baby in my mother's arms. Time flies. Today, ten years later, I gradually understand and understand. In fact, we have never been apart, because we have the best time; No matter what kind of me, what kind of world, what kind of comings and goings, and the vicissitudes of the world, I am still the one who runs on the bridge, because I have had the best time; No matter when I meet you again, I no longer have an innocent smile, or I am full of joy and sadness, you will always be remembered by me because I have the best time.
Wooden houses, small bridges and flowing water are swaying the best time in my memory. In the sun, beauty shines there; In my memory, homesickness grew with me. ...