A poem about parents getting old 1. A poem about a son growing up and his father getting old.

Choose an evil, taking the filial piety of the first virtues as the first.

Children want to raise but can't stay, but how much love does grass have to give the sunshine? . A loving mother loves her son and asks nothing in return.

[Han] Liu An was pregnant heavily in October, but the reward was light. Song of Persuading Filial Piety is a one-foot-three-inch treasure, which has been a work for ten years and eight years.

The mother of "Song of Persuading Filial Piety" said that the child lay dry and the mother fell asleep wet. "Song of Persuading Filial Piety" is not seen by the mother, and the child is uneasy.

My mother is one hundred years old and often reads eighty children. Before "Song of Persuading Filial Piety", the prodigal son is not cold.

Song of Persuading Filial Piety is full of love and hardship. Who knew my parents when they hurt me? "Children's Words Are Unbridled" The bald mother hid her face and cried, and her shirt sleeves were broken. [Tang] Han Yu's mother instrument hangs down, the tube is bright, and the night platform is silent.

Mottos, a thread in the hand of a loving mother, makes clothes for her wayward son's body. Before leaving, I had a stitch for fear that my son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged.

Who can say that a filial child like the weak can repay his mother's love like the sunshine in spring? Meng Jiao used to live in and chose a neighbor.

In Mencius' laziness, she cut the cloth. The mother of Saint Amethyst, the first relative on earth; Motherly love is the first love in the world.

Strictly speaking, the only uncontaminated love in the world is maternal love. When Yan Yan succeeds, everyone is a friend.

But only mother-she is the partner of failure. Zheng Zhenduo lost his parents and gave birth to me.

The Book of Songs has neither father nor mother. The Book of Songs is the virtue of the father and the legacy of the son. Clear pronunciation and mellow voice, parents respected; Give children a good education.

Don't be happy to have a son, and don't sigh without one. [Tang] Han Yu people see that boys and girls are good, but they don't know that men and women make people old.

[Tang] Wang Jian's parents are both on earth; The rarest person in the world, brother. Motto Lian Bi is the best parent in the world; Being a child is the greatest filial piety in the world.

My father gave birth to me, and my mother bowed, caressed, nursed, nurtured, cared and answered me. In the Book of Songs, the father is unkind and the son is unfilial; A brother who is not a friend is disrespectful; If the husband is unfair, the woman will be unhappy.

[Northern and Southern Dynasties] Yan Zhitui's parents did whatever they wanted, and I will continue to describe it; I cherish the thoughts of those parents. This motto is hung on the wall.

2. What poems describe "When a son grows up, his father gets old"?

1, father is old. Author: Huang Shuang Modern Yesterday, my father took my hand and walked on a country road. Now, my father has been holding his grandson's hand and pretending to trot along the country road. My father is old, and the wind and frost have accumulated over time. How many rivers have he left? Father is as old as an ancient banyan tree in his hometown, sending summer wishes to his children and grandchildren. My father is as old as hay turned in the autumn wind, standing at the window watching the sun go down, watching migratory birds go south, stepping on the running water, waiting for news of my father's youth, and my father is old enough to hold my mother's hand to the road of happiness. My back is my long-cherished wish to walk with my relatives for many years. My father is old. Modernity is too heavy. Father's back is bent and his steps are dragged. Really old. My father used to be a child at home. If he doesn't go home, his brothers and sisters will not sleep well. Seeing his father come back, he shouted happily all the way. The tree that once stood behind him stood still in the wind and rain. I'm shaking all the time now. But deeply rooted in my heart, my father is really old. He doesn't let me do anything when he comes home occasionally. Just quietly listening to him talk about the past is his greatest satisfaction impression. My father is always unsmiling. When I was a child, I always thought my father looked serious. Now that I am old, I am engraved with wind and frost, and Cang Sang's face always smiles. It turns out that my father is also a sour person who can laugh. It's been a long time. My proud father all my life, how long will you wait? Father is old. Author: In the fields of modern autumn, the sunshine is always so bright. There is always some cough not far from my father with a hoe, and then I light a cigarette. The cool breeze is covered with wrinkles. In the slow time, the harvested land is getting lighter and lighter, waiting for the wind and frost to hit. Father is old, and the hard bones of ice and snow are like dim lights beating in the distance. I only heard the cough of the hoe. My father squatted on the ground, and I tiptoed along my father's mountain. Climbing the same back, young trees grow into big trees, and strings of fruits are full of warm dreams in countless tears. My father is old. Author: dorado is still a modern father, like a dead lotus bent over in the years, everything in front of him is blurred. One day, in the middle of the night, he asked me, "Is it this morning?" Once he walked around the bathroom for half an hour and couldn't find the door to go out. The father who digs the fields, the laborer who calculates water every year, the mother who sends me to school with a bag of millet, the father who is happy to join in the fun when there is a temple fair, and the father who teaches my children that more than half of the three words are wrong. Where have you been since then? I refuse the photo album and all the reviews, but how can I refuse the little flying knife made of dreams and laughter in dreams? My father is getting old. Author: Father is old. His wrinkled face is like a bloody maple leaf in late autumn. My blurred eyes are burning. My father is getting old. His silver hair is like snow in winter. My messy heart is shrinking. Seeing the disease made the blood pool seem to devour my whole world. At that moment, the air in Mount Tai solidified, and the pine trees nourished by the years stood on the top of the mountain, gritting their teeth and finally propping up the sun of life. Although there was only a little light, my father and the sun met again, and I became a permanent moon.

The more sentences describing father's aging, the better.

Dad is much older and thinner, his temples have turned white, and deep wrinkles have climbed up his cheeks, but his eyes are still so bright.

Looking at my parents' aging faces, rickety backs, frosty temples and clumsy steps, I began to regret myself. Regret your ruthlessness and cruelty. In the eyes of the world, I can't find a trace of my parents' youth; On my parents' kind faces, I clearly saw the traces of years and wind and rain. If I can exchange my life for my parents' youth, I would rather not have this life; If I can exchange my efforts for yesterday, I would rather give up everything and spend my life. However, there are some things in life, once gone, they can never come back.

When I close my eyes, all I see is my parents working hard for me. I saw my father with a whip, plowing against the rising sun; Seeing my father walking on the ridge of rice flowers, his face reflected the joy of harvest; Seeing his father hunched over, he laid baskets of stones on the road behind the house.

With the care, love and care of my parents, I am rich and the richest. Parents' inculcation is my magic weapon of self-motivation in life; The pure and beautiful heart my parents gave me is an inexhaustible precious legacy for me. My parents' words and deeds, diligence and kindness are my life's learning examples; The hard work and suffering of my parents are my motivation to never give up and go forward bravely; My parents' earnest hope is the direction of my life.

I hope I can help you. Please give me a favorable comment. O (∩ _ ∩) O。

4. Poems lamenting parents' aging

1, my white hair has accelerated my aging, like a pale beam that ends the old year. -(Tang) Meng Haoran's Return to Zhongnanshan at the End of the Year.

2. A hundred years will take more than a hundred years. You must still love today. -(Ming) Wang Shizhen

3, an inch of time and an inch of gold, an inch of gold is hard to buy. anonymous

4, flowers will reopen one day, and people will no longer be young. -Yuan's "Dou E Yuan" and "Dou E Yuan"

5. Be encouraged in time, and time waits for no one. -Tao Jin's "Yuan Ming Zashi"

6. Time flies when people are old. Although Bian Hua never changed his original intention, he still tried to listen to old songs in a golden coat, still like being drunk in the past. -(Northern Song Dynasty) Ouyang Xiu's "Picking Mulberries"

7. There is nothing to do. It's like knowing Yan. -Yan Shu's "Huanxisha"

8. The shadow of the idle cloud pool is long. How many years have things changed? Where is the emperor in the pavilion today? The Yangtze River flows freely outside the sill. -Wang Bo's poem Teng Wang Ge

9. The sunny season is wasted again. What will happen in old age? There are fewer spring days in a year, but more than a hundred years old. -Bai Juyi's Spring Festival Evening is a Gift for Huangfulang.

10. Flowers will re-open and people will not be young. -Yuan's injustice to Dou E

5. What poems describe "When a son grows up, his father gets old"?

1, father is old. Author: Huang Shuang Modern Yesterday, my father took my hand and walked on a country road. Now, my father has been holding his grandson's hand and pretending to trot along the country road. My father is old, and the wind and frost have accumulated over time. How many rivers have he left? Father is old, like an ancient banyan tree in his hometown, sending summer wishes to his children and grandchildren. My father is old, like hay turned in the autumn wind, standing at the window looking at the sun going west and the migratory birds going south, stepping on running water at his feet, waiting for news from his father as when he was a child. Father is old, holding mother's hand to the road of happiness. The distant back is my long-cherished wish to accompany my loved ones. My father is getting old. Modernity is too heavy. Father's back is bent and his steps are a little slow. Really old. When my father was at home when he was a child, my brothers and sisters would not sleep well if they didn't go home. I shouted happily all the way to see my father come back. The tree that once stood behind me stood still in the wind and rain. It's a bit shaky now, but its roots have been deeply rooted in my heart. I'm really old. I'm not allowed to do anything when I go home occasionally. Just listening to him quietly about the past is his greatest satisfaction. My father is always unsmiling. When I was a child, I always thought my father looked serious. Now that I am old, I am engraved with wind and frost, and Cang Sang's face always smiles. It turns out that my father is also a sour person who can laugh. It's been a long time. My proud father all my life, how long will you wait? Father is old. Author: In the fields of modern autumn, the sunshine is always so bright. My father with a hoe always coughs a few times not far away and then lights a cigarette. The cool breeze is covered with wrinkles. In the slow time, the harvested land is getting lighter and lighter, waiting for the wind and frost to hit. My father is old, and those hard bones are like dim lights in the distance. I only heard the cough of the hoe. My father squatted on the ground. I stood on tiptoe and climbed up the small tree along my father's mountain-like back, growing into a string of fruits. A warm dream full of countless tears, singing only the songs of my hometown. 4. Father is old. Author: dorado is still an old modern father, like a dead lotus bent over in the years, and everything in front of him is blurred. One day, in the middle of the night, he asked me, "Is it morning now?" Once he walked around the bathroom for half an hour and couldn't find the door to go out. The father who digs the fields, the laborer who calculates water every year, the mother who sends me to school with a bag of millet, the father who is happy to join in the fun when there is a temple fair, and the father who teaches my children that more than half of the three words are wrong. Where have you been since then? I refuse to look back at the photo album, but how can I refuse the dream and the little flying knife made of laughter in the dream? 5. My father is old. Author: My father is old, and his bronzed wrinkled face is like a bloody maple leaf in late autumn, burning my blurred eyes. My father is old, and his silver hair is like snow in winter, shrinking my messy heart and seeing that the disease seems to have swallowed up my whole world. At that moment, the air solidified and Mount Tai was about to collapse. The pine trees nourished by the years stand upright with their teeth, and finally hold up the sun of life, although it is only a wisp.