backbone

I never refuse to throw away a piece of paper. I always keep it, keep it, fold it into a boat and throw it into the sea. Some were blown into the window of the ship by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck to the bow. I still don't give up and fold every day. I always hope that a place can only flow where I want it to go. Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that it dreams for no reason. This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wanshui Qian Shan, please bring her love and sorrow home.

star

backbone

Mom!

The wind and rain in the sky are coming,

The bird hid in his nest;

The storm in my heart is coming,

I only hide in your arms.

the song of the homeless

Author: Meng Jiao

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son.

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?

Xuan (a girl without sadness)

Dry old clothes.

The robe is still there and the collar is still warm.

I can't bear to take it lightly when sewing again, and there are old thread marks of loving mothers on it.

Mother, parents

Mother is a master sculptor.

I am my mother's best masterpiece.

Compared with mother,

Rodin is nothing!

Rodin's stone, sculpture or stone.

Mother started a life!

Mother has the broadest mind,

Compared with mother,

Buddha is nothing!

My mother gave me all the happiness without complaining.

Took away my pain without regret.

The Buddha died,

And occupy so much land in the world.

Mother said:

I didn't sleep well when I was alive.

When I sleep,

Just find a place where no one bothers you.

The word great has been used countless times,

It suddenly dawned on me:

Great,

Give it to your mother!

Greatness is the mother,

Mom is great.

Greatness is a mother's patent,

Greatness is created for mothers.

When I'm not at home,

Every time I think of my mother's silver hair,

Every time I "see" my mother's gaunt face,

Every time I meet my mother's melancholy eyes,

Tears have filled my eyes,

Drop into my heart.

Mother is illiterate,

Is a person who can't even write his own name well,

One plus one equals several. You have to break your fingers and count illiteracy for a long time.

Don't shout slogans,

Not to mention dancing and writing;

Mother holds a pen, just like Confucius holds a hoe.

As clumsy as ever.

It is said that Confucius is the most learned and moral.

Compared with mother,

What did Confucius calculate?

Confucius helped the emperor do so many bad things,

Mom didn't do anything

A good deed or behavior done by a mother.

As many as the stars in the sky!

Mother is a farmer.

Mother not only raised our brothers and sisters with hard-working hands,

It has also contributed a lot of life steel to society.

Maybe it flows in your rice bowl.

Mother's sweat dripped down.

Mom is a poor man.

Mother's salary is paid to herself.

She paid for it herself for 60 years,

vomit

Rich people can't afford a banquet.

That was laid by some chickens raised by my mother.

Mom can't bear to eat.

I bought it at the farmer's market.

Whenever my mother holds hard-won "gold",

There is always a rare smile patting the wings of a chicken.

Whispered the last sentence:

"Good chicken, lay more eggs!"

Oh! mother

Do you remember?

It was a winter night,

I'm still sleeping.

Awaken gently by warm hands.

That's mom's hand.

I barely opened my sleepy eyes.

Ah!

What is presented to us is a bowl of glistening and shiny things.

Food like pearls,

Hot and fragrant.

I asked, "What is this?"

"Eat while it's hot."

I scraped it into my stomach with my brain.

"It's delicious! Is there anything else? "

"no!"

My mother answered me guiltily.

That was the first time I saw rice.

Eat delicious rice for the first time!

It's when my mother works in the production team and works overtime late at night.

The team split up.

Everyone has a bowl.

What delicious rice that is!

My mother was young and beautiful at that time!

In the past 20 years,

Mother gave up her youth and beauty for her children!

Eating rice now is just like eating rice and drinking water.

I have never eaten that delicious rice again.

What an unforgettable night it was!

Just because of the most delicious rice in that bowl.

Mom!

Can you give me that delicious rice again?

I want to wear your silver hair,

In exchange for your youth and beauty!

Mom!

Tonight is a starry night!

My companions and I sang and laughed.

The Spring Festival is coming again.

I will go home this Spring Festival.

I don't know how to express my feelings yet!

This is a great gift.

Can't change your past youth and beauty!

Mom,

Please don't bother yourself!

My son can't take care of you in other places!

My son works hard and never forgets!

Let you no longer be depressed about daily necessities.

Mom, mom!

You should have a good laugh!

A hymn to mother.

When I was a child, I heard that the moon looks like my mother.

All the stars in the sky are her children,

Stars, like many brothers and sisters,

* * * Love each other in a big family.

When I grew up, I traveled for the first time.

In silence, mom, you will mend your sewing clothes.

Even a selfless heart like the moon,

Put all your love in my bag.

In that starry dream,

How many times have you stuffed me into a quilt that fell on one side?

Tears of my concern beat the road under my feet,

Every tear is a poem praising mother.

mother love

It is the communication and fusion of blood and pulse.

It is the blessing of the child and the pain of the mother.

mother love

Like the spring wind.

She gave it a gentle brush.

The earth will be green.

mother love

It is a cloud in the sky.

Always let the scorching sun

Go through her first.

Give the earth wind, rain and peace.

mother love

This is the sunset after the rain.

Always let the washed earth

Lying in your arms and never giving up.

Write colorful life dreams in the high sky.

A poem for mother

Mom, for a long time

I just want to write a poem for you.

But I wrote it many times.

I haven't written it yet

Mom, I wrote this poem for you.

I don't know how to start.

I don't know how to end it.

I don't know what to write.

It's like slapping you hard when you were a child.

I don't know whether to accept it bravely.

Or should I choose to escape?

Mom, I thought of you again tonight.

I decided to write a poem for you.

Even if it's not well written

Even if you are far from home.

Never read ...

Mom, if you see a small white boat in your dream,

Don't be surprised that he dreams for no reason.

This was folded by your beloved daughter in tears.

Wan Shui Qian Shan begged him to take her love and sorrow home.

-Bing Xin

Your pale fingertips touch my temple.

I can't help acting like a child.

Hold on to your skirt

Ah, mom.

In order to keep your fading figure

Although the morning light has cut the dream into smoke.

I still dare not open my eyes for a long time.

I still cherish that bright red scarf.

Afraid that cleaning will make it

Lose your unique warmth

Ah, mom.

Isn't the running water of the years just as ruthless?

I'm afraid the memory will fade, too.

How dare I open its screen easily?

I cried to you for a thorn.

Now I'm wearing a Jing Guan, and I dare not.

I dare not moan.

Ah, mom.

I often look up at your photos sadly.

Even if the call can penetrate the loess

How dare I disturb your sleep?

I dare not show the sacrifice of love like this.

Although I have written many songs.

For flowers, for the sea, for the dawn.

Ah, mom.

My sweet, soft and deep memory.

Not a torrent, not a waterfall.

It's a dry well, and it can't sing under the shade of flowers and trees.

-Shu Ting

Mother is as humble as moss,

Solemn as the morning light,

As soft as the voice of Jiangnan,

Hard as a thousand years of cold jade,

When I raised my eyes,

She is Hao Yue:

When I looked down,

She is a vast land.

-Love

( 1)

Your greatness has condensed my flesh and blood.

Your greatness has shaped my soul

Your life is a journey of love

You use beautiful annual rings

Weave calendars with fragrant ink.

I spend every year in your love.

Play with your shoulders and knees.

(2)

You are a big tree.

Spring depends on your fantasy.

Summer depends on your prosperity.

Autumn depends on your maturity.

Rely on your meditation in winter

Your tall and wide crown ~

Let the fields never be barren.

Mom, you gave me life.

You are the land where I grew up.

(3) Male: 5

When you are sad, you will be comforted.

When you are depressed, you hope.

When you are weak, you are strength.

Take shelter from the wind and rain in your little bay

You have broadened my horizons.

You are my best friend forever and the driving force of life.

(4) 。

You leaned over and guarded with love and caution.

You show your clever mind to your heart's content

Your exuberant energy and bright smile.

Your boiling blood keeps flowing.

(5) 94

Let me immerse myself in your joy.

Let me enjoy your warmth.

Let me be intoxicated in your arms

Let me snuggle up in your arms

(6)'

There are faint poems in the long clouds.

There is continuous love in a faint poem.

There is affection in constant love.

Affectionate and meaningful.

(7) yLl

If mother is rain, then I am a rainbow after rain.

If my mother is the moon, then I am the star holding the moon.

Mother is the foundation of my growth.

I am my mother's ideal fruit.

(8) m~\b

When I grow up, my mother's black hair is like a maple leaf.

The frost sparkled with silver stars.

I deeply kissed the traces of those years j)'

Give you my heart.

(9) y

May fragrance and mellow fragrance haunt your life.

May my silvery laughter fill your brow.

May all my blessings rub into your heart.

A green leaf is full of its friendship with the roots.

An ode condensed my love for you. "

Let the flowers in your heart bloom like clouds.

Let the fragrance accompany you through the long years.

Wandering in Meng Jiao

The mother used the needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son.

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?

Dry old clothes.

The robe is still there and the collar is still warm.

I can't bear to take it lightly when sewing again, and there are old thread marks of loving mothers on it.

Author: (Qing) Zhou Shouchang

Mamazhong

When you come home disappointed,

Son,

No matter how tall you are, your mother's bosom can still surround you.

I am willing to be your "master clock" and I will not stop working until the clock breaks down.