How can you thank her?
You thanked her by yelling at her, kicking and cheating on her.
When you were one year old, she nursed you and bathed you.
You thanked her by crying naughtily.
When you were two, she taught you to walk.
You thanked her by avoiding it;
Hoe and scorching sun
Under the eaves in August
Idle scenery
The wilderness of my hometown
In August, my father raised crops with his life.
For his sweat.
Make an objective summary
The harvest is within reach.
Corn grinned.
Sorghum is shy and embarrassed.
These characteristics are all like fathers.
Pure inheritance
My father
And the father of crops.
He was gratified and sighed with emotion.
have/reap a bumper/copious/rich harvest
February to August
Journey on the calendar
Not far.
But father
A father in his sixties.
Crutch with farm tools
Tread hard
Father can't sit
An express train
Reach the finish line
Every calendar from February to August
Have a deep father's footprint.
Because he shoulders us.
macro-agriculture
How to praise my father
This plant combines food with food and clothes.
Give us crops.
Let's compare him to a painter.
Because my art friend said
Sunflowers in Father Harvest figure
The works of Bivan Gogh
It hasn't decreased at all
father
There is a festival in June.
You and I know each other well.
But maybe my father won't know.
You are still busy every day.
One's complicated affairs
You don't know that in the hearts of children
Father, what a kind and warm name this is.
You have been silent for so many years.
Outside the secular world
Live a life of obscurity.
You and your mother support each other.
Guard your love that has not turned into love.
Like two red willows in the desert kingdom.
Like two old pine trees on the top of a high mountain.
You are enduring humiliation.
Sow the seeds of love day after day.
Let young and ignorant children suffer day by day
A green hand
You're getting old.
The hair is getting whiter and whiter, and the waist is getting more and more arched.
Time is ruthless.
It stole your youthful and beautiful face.
On such a quiet night
I kept my eyes open in the dark.
I want my poem.
Flying in the sky
I hope you don't frown.
A smiling face that makes you sweet and happy.
Swinging in front of us all year.
You never tell me your troubles.
Because I am your daughter (son)
You never let me see your tears.
Because you don't want me to think
You are weak and incompetent.
But I think of you every night.
I want to tell you everything.
I love you deeply, my father.
Your happiness is my happiness.
Dad has spent his whole life, and your belief is only to seek happiness for the children. Thanks to your efforts, the harmonious and happy life of the family is getting better and better every day. Maybe only mom is better in the world, and not many people are calling for it, because it is undeniable that dad is no less devoted to his family than mom. In the real society, dad is the source of family income. He is silently supporting the whole family without any complaints. In dad's eyes, there is nothing like this in the world. More importantly, he depends on his family, so as a father, he is destined to work hard for the comfort and happiness of his family all his life. What a respectable and great father. There is no more selfless love in the world than fatherly love. It's time to express our sincere love to our father on Father's Day. When my father is hazy, my father is a big mountain. Sitting on his shoulders, I can always see far away. Far away, when I was sensible, my father was a stubborn bent pine, only to find that my weight was so heavy. So heavy and now, father, you are a deep poem. Your son silently reads tears and gently sheds his father's blue sky, a dark and mysterious mountain, a quiet and deep vast land, a vibrant opportunity, and how harmonious all creatures are with nature. The field ridge in Tanaka is a beautiful staff, the grains dancing in the wind are jumping notes, and the Jiuqu Mountain Road is the string of heaven and earth, which was pulled out by the light footsteps of parents, but it is the swan song of life. Sweat runs in the canal dug by years, stirring the waves of development. The blue veins are the Great Wall built by strength. Gong Yu's spirit of moving mountains extends from here. Moonlight moistens this quiet night. The running water in front of the house took away all the fatigue. I feel peace in snoring, and I feel the light of white hair in the mirror. The years when my father was built by wind and rain have profoundly outlined wisdom and life. Father's grace is no longer. There are traces everywhere. Dead leaves and lush grass have long since disappeared. Why are the years in such a hurry? I remember that night, my father took my little hand to see the sunset dyed red by hongyun. My father seems to be expecting a dream of mine. Guiltily, I dare not look directly at the large clouds that my father expected. It seems that my father loves me deeply. I want to cry for joy. When I was a child, my father always said to me: I am a big tree. You are a small tree. Now a grown-up little tree wants to say to his father: You will always be my big tree father, caressing the railings of the city and looking at the fragrant soil of my hometown. I thought of my father who was outside Qian Shan and above the soil. At that time, my father walked in the wind, changing all kinds of weeding postures, holding farm tools close to the soil, loving the soil and kissing us across the fields in March. At that time, my poems were not very rich, and I grew up in the fields. It has been my father's wish for many years to stand on his head and look like him. It has been many years since I left my hometown. A hunchbacked figure is vivid in my mind. I stood in September with a shiny sickle in my hand. I hope to write to my father and tell him that wind can blow away stones, rain can rust steel and time can bend your spine. Only if your will is indomitable and never changes will it arouse the weight of the whole family's life. Father's tenderness is the endgame of water and you for thousands of years. You lured me across the river with years of respect, and I bet you into the river with your youth. Your car swerved from side to side, sweeping my defense. My horse walked step by step to your nest. Father played a game of chess, and I can't destroy your moat. You can't break into my crystal palace. My father's way tells me that the tombstone erected will be a road sign for progress. This road continues in my life. Ordinary fathers have no carols. There are no feats, only stories I miss. I will stride forward with brave faith and extend my father's road to a brilliant future. Father's Day is coming again, but my father never knows it, just as he never knows he is tired. Father! How many times have you missed our dinner? How many times have you quietly left my dream and remembered the tenderness of your hands touching my face after doing farm work all your life? How many times have your strong body fallen because of us, father! Suddenly I smelled a thick smell of loess. No, that's a strong manly smell coming from you. My eyes are captured by tears again, father! Your blood is in my veins, father! It is Father's Day again. Have you received my blessing again?
When you were three years old, she prepared food for you.
And you threw it away to thank her;
When you are four years old; She bought you colored pens and taught you to draw.
You thanked her with graffiti on the wall;
When you are five years old; She bought you new clothes,
You thanked her by deliberately jumping into the mud to see if she could wash the dirty things off.
When you are six years old; She takes you to school,
You stubbornly refused to leave, stubbornly thanked her, punched and kicked;
When you are seven years old; She bought you a ball,
You broke the window next door with it, so thank her;
When you are eight years old; She bought you ice cream,
You thanked her by dripping all over the floor;
When you are nine years old; She scrimped and saved so that you could learn the piano.
You lost your temper and refused to practice thanking her;
When you are ten years old; She drives you to various places to participate in activities,
You think she is too slow, so you just go away and thank her.
When you are eleven years old; She took you and your friends to the movies,
You actually said to her: I don't want to sit with you;
When you are twelve years old; She reminds you not to watch bad TV,
But you have resentment in your heart, and I hope she will leave you soon;
When you are thirteen years old; She told you that your hair was beautiful,
How can you thank her? You said, "You are too old-fashioned."
When you are fourteen years old; She asked you to go to summer camp for a whole month,
You thanked her without any news;
When you are fifteen years old; She came home tired, hoping you could give her a hug.
You shut the door and don't let her into your room;
At the age of sixteen; She taught you to drive,
You thanked her with a car accident;
At the age of seventeen; She said she had to wait for an important call,
And you, on the phone line all night, ignore her;
At the age of eighteen; She cried for you when you graduated from high school,
What about you? Thank her, don't come back all night;
When you are nineteen years old; She sent you to college,
At the door, you think she is ugly and don't want your friends to see her. Tell her to go away quickly.
When you are twenty years old; She cares about you making friends,
You said: that's none of your business;
When you are twenty-one years old; She reminds you to study hard and choose a good career.
You said to her: I will never do what you do. What's the promise of someone like you?
When you are twenty-two years old; She attended your graduation ceremony,
You said to her: mom, give me money to play in Europe;
At the age of 23; You work, she helps you arrange accommodation,
You and your friends laugh at her choice of furniture;
When you are twenty-four years old; You have a friend who asks about your plans for the future.
You shouted testily: Mom-;
When you are twenty-five years old; You got married, she hugged you and cried,
How can you thank her?
You moved to a far-away place, didn't go to see her, and didn't let her see you;
When you are thirty years old; She cares about your children,
You said that the child is mine, don't mind your own business;
When you are forty years old; She reminds you to call a relative who is having a birthday.
You tell her that you are too busy now;
When you are fifty years old; She is ill and needs your help.
You said that the old man was really a burden to me, so burdensome-I finally forgot about her.
One day, she finished the road of life.
Then it suddenly occurred to you,
The tree wants to be quiet, but the wind will not stop.
The son has to be raised, and the relatives are not there.
What is a mother?
How to thank your mother?
Mother is a master sculptor. I am my mother's best masterpiece. Compared with his mother, Rodin is nothing! Rodin's stone, sculpture or stone. Mother started a life! A mother's mind is the widest. Compared with mother, Buddha is nothing! My mother gave me all the happiness without complaining, and took away my pain without complaining. The Buddha is dead and still occupies so much of the world. Mother said: I didn't sleep well when I was alive. When I sleep, I find a place where no one bothers me, and I am satisfied. The word great has been used countless times, and I suddenly realized that greatness is the purest gift for my mother! Greatness is mother, and mother is great. Greatness is a mother's patent, and greatness is specially created for her. When I am away from home, whenever I think of my mother's silver hair, whenever I "look" at her gaunt face, whenever I meet her melancholy eyes, tears have already filled my eyes and flowed into my heart. Mother is illiterate, an illiterate who can't even write her own name well. One plus one equals several, and she has to count her fingers for half a day. I can't shout the number in my mouth, and I can't dance with pen and ink; Mother holding a pen is as clumsy as Confucius holding a hoe. It is said that Confucius is the most learned and moral. Confucius is nothing compared with his mother! Confucius helped the emperor do so many bad things that his mother never did. Mother's good deeds are as many as the stars in the sky! Mother is a farmer. Mother not only raised our brother and sister with hard-working hands, but also contributed a lot of life steel to society. Maybe your mother's sweat is dripping in your rice bowl. Mom is a poor man. Mother's salary is paid to herself. She has spent 60 years on her own, and together, she can't afford a rich man's banquet. That's the eggs laid by some chickens raised by my mother. My mother can't bear to eat them, so she went to the farmer's market to get them. Whenever the mother holds the hard-won "gold", she always pats the wings of the chicken with a rare smile and whispers, "Good chicken lays more eggs!" Oh! Mom, do you remember? It was a winter night, and I was still asleep when I was gently awakened by a warm hand. That's mom's hand. I barely opened my sleepy eyes. Ah! In front of us is a bowl of glistening, sparkling and pearl-like food, which is hot and delicious. 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 and ate delicious rice for the first time! My mother works in the production team and works overtime late at night. Everyone has a bowl. What delicious rice that is! My mother was young and beautiful at that time! In the past twenty years, my mother has given 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 would like to put on your silver hair for you in exchange for your youth and beauty at that time! 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 heart yet! No matter how good the gift is, it 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! When I was a child, I heard that the moon is like my mother, the stars in the sky are all her children, and the stars are like many brothers and sisters, loving each other in a big family. My mother was speechless when she traveled for the first time after growing up. You sewed the clothes with your own hands, and even your selfless heart like the moon and all your love were put into my bag. In that starry dream, how many times did you cover the quilt that fell on one side for me, and the tears I missed knocked on the road under my feet. Every tear is a poem praising mother. Motherly love is a blood connection and a blessing for children. Motherly love is like the wind in spring. Motherly love is green, when she gently blows across the earth. It is a cloud in the sky, always letting the scorching sun pass her body first, a peaceful maternal love, always letting the washed earth lie in her arms, and writing colorful life dreams for her poetic mother in the high sky. I wanted to write a poem for you a long time ago, but I didn't write my mother well many times. I don't know how to start this poem for you, how to end it or what to write, just like when I was a child, I didn't know whether to accept it bravely or choose to escape from my mother. I thought of you again tonight, and I decided to write a poem for you, even if it is not well written, even if you can never read it in your hometown ... Mom, if you see a white boat in your dream, no! This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes. Wan Shui Qian Shan, ask him to take her love and sorrow home. Bing Xin, your pale fingertips manage my sideburns. I can't help holding on to your skirt like when I was a child. My mother tried to keep you from disappearing. Although the morning light has cut my dream into smoke, I still dare not open my eyes for a long time. I still cherish that bright red scarf, for fear that washing it will make it lose your unique warmth. The running water of my mother's years is as heartless as it is afraid of fading memories. How dare I open its screen easily? I cried to you for a thorn. Now I wear a watch and dare not moan. Mom, I often look up at your photos sadly. Even if I call for penetrating 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, the sea and the dawn, my sweet, soft and deep memory of my mother is not a torrent or a waterfall, but a dry well that can't be sung among flowers and trees-Shu Ting's mother is humble as moss, solemn as dawn, soft as the voice of the south of the Yangtze River, hard as a thousand years of cold jade, bright moon when she looks up, and vast land when she looks down. -Love (1) Your greatness condenses my flesh and blood, and your greatness shapes my soul. Your life is a journey of love. You weave a calendar with beautiful rings that smell of ink. I spend every year in your love, playing on your shoulders and knees. (2) You are a big tree. You dream of prosperity in summer and maturity in autumn. Winter depends on you to meditate on your height and width. Canopy ~ Let the fields never be barren. Mom, you gave me life. You are the land where I grew up. (3) M: 5 When I am sad, you are comforting. When I am depressed, you are my hope. You are the power to shelter me from the wind and rain in your little harbor when I am weak. You have broadened my horizons. You are my best friend forever, the driving force of life. (4) With love and caution, bend over to protect you and show your bright mind. Your exuberant energy and bright smile. Your boiling blood keeps running (5) 94 Let me immerse myself in your joy, enjoy your warmth, let me revel in your arms and snuggle up in your arms (6) There are faint poems in the idle clouds, and there are endless love, affection and affection in the poems. If my mother is rain, then I am the rainbow after the rain; If my mother is the moon, then I am holding the moon. Mother Star is the root of my growth, and I am the ideal fruit of my mother (8) m~\ B When I grow up, my mother's black hair is like frost on a maple leaf, but the stars are shining silver. I deeply kissed the traces of those years. J) `Give you my heart. May sweetness and fragrance haunt your life, and may my silvery laughter fill your brow. May all my blessings rub into your heart, and a green leaf is full of its friendship with the roots. An ode condensed my love for you. "Let the flower in your heart bloom like a cloud and make it fragrant." 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? The sun-dried clothes are still tattered, but 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 mother clock When you are disappointed, no matter how tall you are, your mother's mind can still surround you. I am willing to be your "master clock" until the clock breaks (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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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.
One day.
When I entered the rainy season,
Mom just passed by.
Give half of the umbrella for the child to shelter from the wind and rain to the mother.
Mother pushed it to me again,
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mom outside the umbrella.
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.
Life is like walking on a stormy road.
Mother is at the front.
Send some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain to their mothers.
Mother pushed it to me again,
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mom outside the umbrella.
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.
Dear mom, I love you.
I will always be your child.
I always need the touch of your palm.
Dear mom, I love you.
Just like a stream's affection for a mountain.
I hug you warmly and tightly.
Selflessly cherish the warmth of spring.
I am a wild goose flying south.
The desire to be as fresh as cream.
I love you, my dear mother.
I love you, the smell of mountains, air and water.
In my youth, you designed it carefully for me.
Every second, every minute of my life.
On many bright red days
With the poetry and enthusiasm of my stream
Write poetry on your wrinkled forehead.
Pick a bunch of the brightest roses,
With all my dear words to my mother,
Mom said I was stupid,
Roses are flowers that symbolize love.
I don't know,
It is also a flower that the child gave to his mother.
I haven't heard my mother tell jokes about my childhood for a long time.
I regret it,
Those who fall asleep before listening,
Mom said, silly boy,
A mother will never finish what she has to say to her children.
When I entered the rainy season,
Mom just passed by.
Give half of the umbrella for the child to shelter from the wind and rain to the mother.
Mother pushed it to me again,
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mom outside the umbrella.
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.
Life is like walking on a stormy road.
Mother is at the front.
Send some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain to their mothers.
Mother pushed it to me again,
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mom outside the umbrella.
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.
Dear mom, I love you.
I will always be your child.
I always need the touch of your palm.
Dear mom, I love you.
Just like a stream's affection for a mountain.
I hug you warmly and tightly.
Selflessly cherish the warmth of spring.
I am a wild goose flying south.
The desire to be as fresh as cream.
I love you, my dear mother.
I love you, the smell of mountains, air and water.
In my youth, you designed it carefully for me.
Every second, every minute of my life.
On many bright red days
With the poetry and enthusiasm of my stream
Write poetry on your wrinkled forehead.
Pick a bunch of the brightest roses,
With all my dear words to my mother,
Mom said I was stupid,
Roses are flowers that symbolize love.
I don't know,
It is also a flower that the child gave to his mother.
I haven't heard my mother tell jokes about my childhood for a long time.
I regret it,
Those who fall asleep before listening,
Mom said, silly boy,
A mother will never finish what she has to say to her children.
To this end, give another * * * encouragement.
1, mother in the storm
Life is like walking on a stormy road.
Mother is at the front.
Send some umbrellas to protect the children from the wind and rain to their mothers.
Mom pushed it to me again.
Ah, the child under the umbrella,
Mother outside the umbrella,
Rain is no longer rain,
It was a tear of happiness that God sent to the world.
Thank you for your hard work, Mom.
The human body can leave,
People don't leave,
Just as we will never forget our ancestors,
Forget about mother.
Mother is the quilt on her body,
Without her, she would feel cold.
Mother is the salt in the dish,
Life is tasteless without her.
Mother must have her pain.
The pain of wandering,
It often hangs on her face,
Interwoven with laughter watching children.
3. Great maternal love
Pick a bunch of the brightest roses,
With all my dear words to my mother,
Mom said I was stupid,
Roses are flowers that symbolize love.
I don't know,
It is also a flower that the child gave to his mother.
I haven't heard my mother tell jokes about my childhood for a long time.
I regret it,
Those who fall asleep before listening.
Mom said, silly boy,
A mother can never finish what she has to say to her children.
Is to sleep in the grave,
You are also my eternal concern.