My own poems about the Qingming Festival include the following:

1. It rained heavily during the Qingming Festival, and I didn’t know what it meant when I was a child. Singing along the way, relatives have gone with the predecessors. Every year on the gloomy Qingming Festival, I walk all the way to the cemetery. To commemorate the martyrs and ancestors, every memorial is written on the memorial platform.

2. During the Qingming Festival, the spring rain falls, and the pines and grasses are lush. Tears shed, thousands of lines of paper money are burned, and incense is burned at the grave to express condolences. It is difficult to calm down when I bow to the ground, and my thoughts are lingering when I drink wine in the wind. What is the most important thing in this world? Honor your family as early as possible.

3. When the Qingming Festival arrives, people feel heavy-hearted and pay tribute to their loved ones at their graves. Thinking back to the happy scene in those days, how can one not shed tears. Life is a good time, and happiness comes when your loved ones are by your side. Cherish family affection and friendship, and everything can be treated as a cloud. I wish you good health, peace of mind, peace of mind and good news!

4. It is difficult to miss you, and it is difficult to see you. I send jade letters with a heart full of ice, full of sorrow and nowhere to complain, and it is getting late at night and the sky is getting colder. It is difficult to move forward, and it is difficult to retreat. How can this situation be unbearable? Things in the world are unpredictable, and it is difficult for heaven and man to meet each other.

5. Like mist and spring rain, there is always sentimentality, and listening to a piece of nostalgia is different. With a head full of compassion, I patrol the ancient roads, and those who are crazy about outing admire the fairy wind. But it is difficult to understand that after thousands of confessions, Jiezi will remain famous for hundreds of generations. The dust of thousands of years will eventually be exhausted. How many people can be so pure?

6. Spring has come and it’s Tomb-Sweeping Festival again, with incense and smoke flying for nine days. Gradually, I felt sad and sad as I listened to the crane's voice, and the sound penetrated my ears and reached my heart.

7. The shocking tears and rain are nowhere to be found. I would like to ask about the late Qingming Festival and the spring. Who knows if the flowers fall without saying a word? At this time, my heart is broken and I hate leaving people.