Argumentative poem 1 Facing the pale star, braving the dense fog or the vast space, I set sail in the sea of life. -inscription
A sleepy afternoon in summer, poetry, crossroads, beggars. This is my little material memory of that moment.
This is not an earth-shattering and tear-jerking epic, nor is it "I am a Forgotten Man" or "Arthur Panzogan". But what happened during this time, my epiphany, like meeting Enkidu or drawing a sword in a stone, was a major turning point in my life.
At that time, I may be described by Charles Baudelaire's poem: "I love myself without feeling inferior." I have always loved reading, and I also love western literature. No matter "1984" or "Birds", I have dabbled in it a little, and I often talk about it in chapters. Therefore, it is praised as "a talented woman who reads widely" by classmates, parents and teachers. In the favorable comments, my love for reading almost reached the point of obsession, enthusiastically absorbing new knowledge and new words, but slowly declining in my study. That afternoon, I just came out of Shandong Book City, still remembering Borges' beautiful and profound language, but I was caught by a beggar squatting on the side of the road. Seeing me watching him, the old man stood up slowly.
His body is not wobbly, but broken. Just like the little old man behind Baudelaire on the corner of Paris, his spine and thighs are at right angles-how to describe him next? -I recalled the sentence in the book: "That cane tripped him and made him look like a lame animal." So naturally, this old man with obvious Asian characteristics reminds me of a carpenter in the Bible who was punished for not allowing Jesus to sit down and walk forever-poor, wandering Jew! My brain soaked with words has perfected the ability to cover reality. Even if he has wisdom or poetry that doesn't match his appearance, I will think that he is Homer who drinks a stream or Ulysses who lives in a cave somewhere-this image will leave a more vivid impression on my brain than an ordinary beggar, because I walked out of the bookstore door from this story, thanks to Mr. Borges-until my hand reached me. That dark brown, bony, bare, criss-crossing and dirty hand, with gray nails, sticks out in front of me with oil stains-maybe it's not a hand anymore. Even Satan's poems are much better than this. A living hand, a hand that can't even beautify any fantasy, tore up the empty words and delivered the reality to my eyes cruelly and solemnly.
It suddenly occurred to me that I read thousands of novels, essays and poems, and recorded thousands of elegant, magnificent and profound words, but I couldn't answer a pair of old hands.
Is it time? I woke up from the fantasy dream of words and found myself so empty, even poorer than that hand-no, I can't compare with that hand that has climbed mountains and experienced many vicissitudes in reality. Before I really realized life, I dreamed of galloping in the blue sky. How ironic! I thought I was brilliant, retelling the beauty of others and gloating, but I never got out of the ivory tower.
I dare not look at that hand again. In a trance, there seems to be an identical hand beside me, followed by the third one and the fourth one ... Macbeth surrounded by reality, will I watch the eighth one safely? Don't! Before I saw the mirror, I took a step back and escaped the illusion and the hand.
I went home without looking. After sitting in the chair for a long time, I locked the new book in the cupboard.
I began to arrange my time reasonably, stopped boasting about myself everywhere, and my grades began to pick up. I also tried to participate in outdoor activities with my classmates. I realized that reading is not to indulge myself in the environment of books, but to make life better through books.
Even the best masterpieces come from life. Facing the reality, I am no longer confused. I will hold up this poem of life with enthusiasm.
Argument of Poetry 2 Since I watched the China Poetry Conference for three consecutive seasons, I have been infected by poetry and become attached to it. At the poetry conference, those contestants' love and pursuit of poetry deeply touched me and nourished my feelings.
Poetry depicts beautiful scenery.
Show me the picturesque scenery from ancient poems. Singing a poem by the Qing Dynasty poet Gao Ding, "The grass grows in February and the willows are drunk with spring smoke", I seem to be wandering in a sea of flowers and intoxicated in the charming spring; Reading a song by Yang Wanli, a poet in the Song Dynasty, "The lotus leaves are infinitely bright, and the lotus leaves reflect the shadow of the sun in a different color", it feels like the wind blowing from the lotus pond in summer; Reading a poem by Du Mu, a poet in the Tang Dynasty, "Stop and sit and love the late maple forest, and the frost leaves are red in February", I seem to enjoy picking red leaves in the maple forest picked on the mountain; Reciting a frontier poet Cen Can's "Spring Breeze at Night Blows Ten Thousand Pears", I feel like walking in the snow, enjoying a pure color scenery, and snowflakes are falling quietly. ...
Poetry, beauty!
Poetry contains philosophy.
Poetry always contains profound philosophy. Zhu's "Asked Channels" is so clear that we should be educated to keep learning new knowledge and gain true knowledge. Su Shi's "I don't know the true face of Lushan Mountain, but I am only in this mountain" explains to us the truth that "the authorities are fascinated and the bystanders are clear"; Lu You's "superficial knowledge on paper, but in fact nothing." It also tells us that we can't just base ourselves on books, but practice is also extremely important. Be a person who combines reading with practice. ...
Poetry after poem, truth after truth.
Sentimental thoughts in poetry
In poetry, there are always various emotions entrusted to the poet. What kind of melancholy is Yi 'an layman's "Don't worry, the curtain rolls west wind, and people are thinner than yellow flowers"? People are thinner than chrysanthemums, it must be because of her yearning for her husband; Nalan Rong Ruo's "A generation of two couples, fighting for two fascinating places" is congenial, but it is a longing and sigh for love; Li Taibai's "Looking up, I found that it was moonlight, and then sinking, I suddenly remembered my home". Even though the moonlight is so soft, the intention of my hometown under the moon is more desirable; Lu Fangweng's "Wang Shibei celebrates the Central Plains Day, and the family sacrifice will never be forgotten" is not only his last wish for his children, but also his love for the boxing of the motherland. ...
Poetry, feelings.
Poetry, full of charm and long feelings, grows with me!
Argument of Poetry 3 You warm every classmate's heart with fire-like emotion, and you stir countless hearts with poetic pride, either graceful or delicate, as if even your back is condensed with fiery eyes. ...
In my opinion, Chinese teachers need a lot of literary knowledge reserves and need to patiently interpret every word for us in class. Whenever I see you preparing lessons carefully at your desks, I can feel the responsibility and glory as a people's teacher. "Silkworms will weave until they die in spring, and candles will drain the wick every night." Don't burn yourself like that wax torch, just to teach us what you have learned selflessly.
Your thoughts and words are full of poetry and philosophy, and at the same time they are so magical. In my heart, how many wonderful ripples they have aroused!
Your bright smile always flashes in front of my eyes; Your character and personality will be treasured in my heart forever. In the sea of life, you are like a high beacon light, standing on the vast sea, guiding our forward voyage forever. You have taught us the truth in poetry and fu, and at the same time, the connotation and charm of poetry have been most truly reflected in you. You are in my heart, just like an ancient romantic figure, and I admire you in my heart.
"Orchids are thinking of rain everywhere, and the garden is full of peaches and plums." Your lecture is so colorful. Every chapter seems to open a window in front of me and let me see another colorful new world. It seems that the voice that gently shakes the soul still echoes in the ear. You have dyed the color of our youth with the love in your hearts ... Teacher, please open the window and have a look. All this love and this garden full of peaches and plums are paying tribute to you!
Without the nourishment of your thoughts, how can so many beautiful flowers of the soul bloom? Spreading knowledge is sowing hope and happiness. Teacher, you are the sower of this hope and happiness! It is you who shine the beautiful sunshine, moisten the beautiful rain and dew, make our hearts green and full of flowers!
You planted the seeds of poetry in our hearts, trying to give us the connotation of a poet. You are more like the unknown root, let the young trees grow sturdily, let the branches bear rich fruits, but ask for nothing in return.
"The rain is small and there is rain." I heard that when a seedling needs a glass of water, it is absolutely impossible to send a bucket of water; And when you need a bucket of water, never give a glass of water. Learning to give in due course is a skill of a good gardener. Teacher, this is your art of education.
Whether it is cold or warm, it is only fragrant for peaches and plums. Poetry is all over the world, painting is all over the world, talented people are smiling, only my teacher is also.
Chinese teacher, maybe you are just an ordinary one among all sentient beings, but in our hearts, aren't you the tallest one? "There are all ends of the earth, only teachers are infinite." When the sun sets, I can still see your quiet smile in the faint afterglow. You lead us, take dreams as horses, lead the way with poems, and finally reach the other side where the fragrance is overflowing and the peach blossoms are lingering!
The argumentative essay of poetry has lasted for 5,000 years. The long river of history passes like quicksand in an hourglass, but it can't take away the chapters lamented by predecessors in the long river. -inscription
Who called the most primitive labor song "Hum Yo, Hum Yo" into the poem? Who is singing softly by the river "Guan Guan pheasant dove, in Hezhou"? These beautiful songs of "naive thinking" appear at the source of human life memory and also at the source of China's long-standing poems. I have been attached to poetry since I was a child, and I heard from my elders that my name was taken from the Book of Songs, so I was very interested in poetry since I was a child.
I remember a long time ago, my mother told me the story of Qu Yuan. She was pure and clean. She woke up alone in troubled times and spent her whole life reciting zhanghua and composing Li Sao and Chu Ci. Describe Tao Yuanming strolling leisurely in the green hills with a hoe. The crisp and tactful bird song lingers among the green hills. He suddenly looked back and saw the picture of Nanshan, and sang a beautiful sentence of "picking chrysanthemums under the east fence and seeing Nanshan leisurely".
In class, the teacher taught Li Bai's sentimental landscape, and the swan song "How the water of the Yellow River moves to the sky, enters the ocean and never returns" flows freely; Praise Du Fu for worrying about the country all the time. "There are thousands of buildings, everyone in the world is happy, and the wind and rain are calm!" ……
A book "Appreciation of Poetry in Past Dynasties" is my most loyal friend for many years. It gradually made me realize the situational beauty of poetry under concise words.
Children's every move, a smile will always attract the poet's attention: among the flowers, "children scramble to chase Huang Die and fly into cauliflower, and there is nowhere to find it"; On the grass, "Come back from a full meal at dusk and lie in the moonlight without taking off your hemp fiber"; Next to the stream, "I like the death of children, and the lotus is peeled at the head of the stream"; In the forest, "the shepherd boy rides an ox, and the song vibrates the forest"; By the pond, "a unkempt teenager learned to hold onto nylon tightly and sat beside raspberries and moss"; On the boat, "it's strange that there is an umbrella without rain, not to cover your head but to make wind" ... childhood dreams seem to reproduce a childlike scene; Innocent children are so close to me!
Appreciation of poetry in past dynasties has taught me to understand the deep feelings hidden below through the surface of words. For example, in the farewell poem, Liu Yong chanted that "sentimental parting is worse since ancient times, leaving the autumn festival in the cold", and Wang Wei's "advising you to make more wine and go out for no reason" was so sad. Standing by the river, Li Bai saw that "the lonely sail is far away and the blue sky is exhausted, only the Yangtze River flows in the sky", and the feeling of parting is beyond words. However, Wang Bo's "However, China holds our friendship, and heaven is still our neighbor" and Gao Shi's "Mochow has no bosom friend on the road in the future, and everyone in the world knows a gentleman" convey a bright future to friends and inspire them to make great strides.
China's classical poems are so charming that it seems that we have crossed this time tunnel, and the great poets in ancient China and I "can feel the harmonious heartbeat of the sacred unicorn". I wandered in the long river of Chinese civilization for five thousand years, bathed in the sunshine of knowledge, absorbed the nutrition of culture, and let poetry grow with me.
Poetry Argumentation 5: The sky embraces the sea and makes itself bluer; The sunshine embraces the white clouds and makes itself softer. How wonderful is a hug? -inscription
Embrace the mountains and you will feel the grandeur of the mountains; Embrace the sea and you will appreciate the vastness of Wang Yang; Embrace the earth and you will feel the vitality of everything; Embrace the sky and you will feel the elegance of white clouds. ...
I love mountains, I love the sea, I love the earth, I love the blue sky, but I will not leave my first hug between heaven and earth, because I love poetry more. I will take my hug through time and space to embrace the poems and songs of the past dynasties.
Embracing Chinese poetry is the grandeur of "the wind is rustling and the water is cold, and the strong men are gone forever." I am moved, I choke, I am sad, I admire. How much emotion is incorporated into a short poem. I can only sigh that "people are empty, and the water is still cold today."
"Embrace the Three Kingdoms" is a poem by a generation of heroes Cao Cao: "If the trip to the sun and the moon is beyond its borders; Xinghan is brilliant, if it is unexpected. " What kind of ambition is this! In that war-torn era, there was no love for children, only a kind of heroism and "singing to wine, what is life like?"
Embracing the poems of the Eastern Jin Dynasty, I was moved by the leisure romance of "picking chrysanthemums under the east fence and seeing Nanshan leisurely". Poets who don't bend their backs for five buckets of rice fall in love with chrysanthemums to the point where they have nothing to say. Only with poetry, implicit and deep. His sentiment was ennobled by poetry.
Embracing the Tang poetry, I realized the lonely realm of "until I raise my cup, I ask the bright moon, bring my shadow to me and let the three of us", and loneliness was comforted by poetry. I finally learned "Oh, let a brave man take risks where he wants to go, and never point his golden cup at the moon empty!" " Therefore, I firmly believe that "I was born useful, spinning a thousand pieces of silver, come back all!" .
Embracing the poems of the Song Dynasty, I seem to hear the whispers under the grape trees, which are sweet words of the cowherd and the weaver girl, and the poetry of "thin clouds and clever words, flying stars spread grievances, silver and Chinese are all black, and the golden wind and jade are everywhere, winning countless people." How much lingering?
hug ...
Embracing poetry makes me understand that true friendship is deeper than peach blossom pool; "If two kinds of feelings last for a long time, sooner or later"; The idea of "I'm freezing to death alone". I finally understand that when love is silent, poetry can speak for itself …
"I touched God with my poems, just like mountains and waterfalls touched the distant sea." Tagore's deep throat poems touched every corner of the world, as well as you, me and him.
Poetry is an inexhaustible river.
She comes from ancient times, from the singing of hard struggle, from the forest in the wheat field, from the Great Wall in the south of the Yangtze River, north of the Yangtze River; She absorbed the homesickness and expression, the pipa of Hu people and Yue Nv's; She accepted the gorgeous sunset, the bright moon and the twinkling stars; She gave birth to the Han and Tang Dynasties, nourished the Song Dynasty, nurtured Dayuan from the grassland to the south, and played a dazzling voice of poetry and music. She flows into the rolling Yellow River and Yangtze River, and finally rushes to the vast East China Sea.
There is wisdom and understanding in poetry. Poetry gets inspiration from the changes of nature, fragments of life and historical changes, and teaches people a kind of compassion. She taught people to listen to the rain, beat bananas and appreciate the smoke in the kitchen; She taught people to treat Zisi's mother, the working plowman, the soldiers guarding the border and the lost relatives and friends with compassion. She teaches young lovers to be passionate about each other but not necessarily about each other; She teaches people to have a thorough understanding of reading, but it takes practice to be ignorant. Every poem, without exception, burns the life of that era and exudes the breath of life of that era; Every poem shows the poet's exploration and exploration of the essence of life. It is a manifesto of the poet's spirit, inspiring and outstanding in his time.
Poetry also has a unique national way of thinking. The collective unconsciousness accumulated by this nation in the long-term social life permeates everyone's blood and stretches endlessly. Therefore, today, with the blood of Chinese culture, we can easily cross the barriers of time and space and understand the deep feelings behind the poems of our ancestors. Chinese characters are hieroglyphics, and China's poems are also thinking in images. Zong Baihua, a master of aesthetics, said: "The literary genius of China people makes them imagine with concrete thinking of images." Therefore, we see a lot of metaphors, metaphors, symbols, hints and associations in poetry. With their help, we go into the core of poetry, into the poet's heart and into the human heart.
Poetry has the national spirit of Chinese children. There is a persistent determination to pursue the ideal with one heart and one mind. "Although I have died nine times, I still have no regrets." There is a boxing heart that is "humble and afraid to forget my country." "The blade comes from grinding". Self-improvement urges us to forge ahead, and the virtue of "freezing one person is enough" makes others warm; The infatuation of "there is a way to make progress in Shushan" has not been forgotten, and the integrity and honesty of "keeping innocence in the world" will always be passed down; People with lofty ideals have a broad-minded mind of "throwing the window into the river", and Yu Qiao's brow reveals the calmness of "then sitting and watching Yun Qi".
In this way, poetry has been flowing slowly with the river of time. Time flies, in the reinforced jungle of modern society today, she seems to have lost her former appearance! Looking around, on both sides of the river, the skyscrapers of new technology have long been sensational; Looking back, the garden of pragmatism has spread all over. Poets who sing by the river are lonely. They may have been enslaved by things? The poem sung by the well is vague and disillusioned. Has she quietly disappeared in the noisy world of mortals? The poetry of Hongyan's biography is declining. How can I change it into a novel and funny expression pack? Even the young Mu Xin once sighed by the Huangpu River: "Sometimes, life is not as good as Baudelaire. Sometimes Baudelaire is not as good as a bowl of wonton. "
Is poetry in life gone with the wind? No, the green hills are still there, and the setting sun is a few degrees. Is there no room for poetry to be handed down from generation to generation? No, far from poetry, we have obviously begun to be confused and confused. Do you remember that who didn't bathe in poetry, imperceptibly inspired, and finally let life shine? ! When I was a child, who didn't watch the bright moon with my mother and read Looking forward to the Moonlight? When you grow up, who hasn't experienced the ignorance of "saying worry and adding new words" Pursuing ideals, I only hope that "it is time to ride the wind and waves"; Encounter difficulties, but beg for "a lifetime"; When I am old, I sigh that "time is fleeting"; When friends leave, send a sentence "Everyone knows a gentleman"! Yes, poetry has never alienated us, but we sealed her up as a yellowed memory!
Poetry will not dry up, nor will it dry up. Marx said: "I was surprised to find the latest thing from the oldest thing." In poetry, we rediscover ourselves, regain confidence and find the direction! Don't you see: the poetry meeting is like the spring breeze "green" flooding the north and south of the river; The poems and paintings of "Old Tree Painting" are also like a gurgling stream repeatedly brushing the screen in the circle of friends; The Chinese-English translation of lingering poems makes people smile like a dream; And Mu Xin will eventually write his rough life into a high-pitched and passionate poem. We will review old poems and learn spiritual nutrition; We will create new poems and turn them into the driving force for flying!
In fact, poetry has always been there! Poetry, never exhausted!
During the seven years of 5,000 years, China, one of the ancient civilizations, that is, our motherland, was permeated with a strong cultural atmosphere. They are like dazzling night pearls, attracting people's attention. Walking on the road of custom, you will feel the traditional color of China; Walking on the road of history, you will see the legendary past in the long years; Walking on the road of poetry, you will feel the elegance of ancient China. ...
Poetry is like peony in a flower; Poetry is like a firefly in the dark; Poetry is like the morning star in the sky. Looking back on China's 5,000-year-old culture, what attracts me most is undoubtedly poetry.
When it comes to poetry, people will definitely think of that most prosperous era. Yes, it's the Tang Dynasty. China's poetry was the most prosperous at that time. There were many kinds of poems at that time: landscape poems and frontier poems. ...
Among them, Meng Haoran and Wang Wei are outstanding representatives of landscape poems. From their landscape poems, it seems that we can be there. "It's too light for anyone to hear, except my comrade-in-arms Mingyue". When I read this, I seem to see that in a quiet bamboo forest, there is no noise of the world, only the Mingyue accompanies the poet. What a harmonious scene!
The representatives of frontier poems are undoubtedly Gao Shi and Cen Can. From the frontier poems they wrote, you can read the fearless patriotism of the soldiers who died in the battlefield and went forward bravely; I can also read their deep nostalgia for their loved ones and their hometown when they were in the frontier fortress. You can read the poet's nostalgia for his hometown and his desire for peace.
Walking on the road of poetry, we feel the thoughts of the ancients and the color of the splendid culture of the motherland! Let's inherit the culture of China and carry it forward!
Argument of Poetry 8 There are poems everywhere in life. Naive children's songs and simple folk songs often echo in our ears. China is a country of poetry. The earliest collection of poems, The Book of Songs, has a history of more than two thousand years. Many great poets have emerged since ancient times, such as Qu Yuan, Li Bai, Du Fu and Guo Moruo. Lines of beautiful poems and soft notes, it is in this bit by bit that I began my journey of poetry.
In my memory, the first poem I learned was Luo's Ode to Goose: Goose, Goose. White feathers, floating in green water; The red soles of the feet stir the clear water. This is my first contact with poetry in the first day of junior high school. Since then, the unique charm of poetry has deeply attracted me.
As I grow older, my love for poetry grows stronger and stronger. I always have one or two books of poetry in my desk. When I am free, I will take them out and recite some new poems. Every winter and summer vacation, I recite several ancient poems of China every day. Up to now, my poetry reserve has been very rich.
The year before last, I fell in love with the poetry conference. Every night at eight o'clock, I will come to the TV on time, pick up my parents' mobile phone and take part in answering questions. Every master of poetry has a very rich reserve. Compared with them, I am really "dwarfed"! From this, I secretly made up my mind to accumulate more poems, hoping to shine at the poetry conference one day. In the process of answering questions, I learned a lot of new contents, and I benefited a lot from the explanations and comments of the judges and teachers. Poetry convention makes me love poetry more.
In poetry, I can also feel a lot.
Of all the flowers, I love plum alone. "A few plums in a corner, cold ling alone." I saw plum blossom's tenacious will to fight frost and snow; "Mei's snow is white, but the snow has lost a piece of plum fragrance", which shows Mei's pride, and at the same time, it also acts as the messenger of spring. ...
Autumn is my favorite season. "A year's good scenery must be remembered, just when it is orange, yellow and green", which writes the rich scenery of late autumn, revealing vitality and giving people a sense of high spirits; "The sunset in the lonely village, the old tree in the west of Western jackdaw smokes, and the shadow flies a little", which shows the bleak of autumn scenery, but there is no sadness. ...
Happiness is like a river that breaks the ice in winter, like the revival of everything in spring, like trees in summer, like fruitful results in autumn. The source of happiness is poetry. When I am sad, I will overcome the difficulties with me. Share it with me when you are happy.
Walking with poems and books, it's good to have you in my world!
Label: Argumentative Poetry