Flower prose 1, open in your heart, smile like a flower, love like a flower, hope like a flower, life like a flower.

Everyone has his favorite flowers, and Lu You loves plum blossoms the most: "Everything is mashed into mud and ground into dust, only the fragrance remains." ; Tao Yuanming loves chrysanthemums: "Under the hedge of picking chrysanthemums, you can see Nanshan leisurely." ; Zhou Dunyi Ailian: "Mud comes out without dye." I don't mean to insinuate here. I am just an ordinary person, but I also have the right to like flowers. Everything I can see, whether it is peach blossom, pear blossom, Chinese rose, lotus flower, or even roadside wildflowers, will have a different feeling as long as I see flowers, which are always pleasing to the eye and refreshing. Bright and dazzling, they will attract all attention. Flying flowers follow me, the courtyard is idle. You don't need company to drink in the greenhouse.

I like flowers, but there are no flowers at home. It's always a pity. It's better to settle for the second best and be lenient. So I asked for a pot of Clivia at my mother-in-law's house and put it on the windowsill of the bedroom. I will look at her in my spare time, especially on quiet nights. I like to look at her quietly. But after a while, I found that the leaves of Clivia were not opposite, the leaves were no longer neat, and the edges of the leaves had turned yellow. See here, I don't feel a tight heart, it is a kind of pain. How did this happen? What if it changes in my hands? So I started looking for information and reasons, only to know that she likes warm and cold, avoiding cold and heat. It is because of the direct sunlight in summer that the leaves turn yellow and should be placed in the shade. The phototropism of plants leads to irregular leaves, which rotate 180 degrees every half month. Armed with knowledge, I began to play cards according to the routine. Pay attention to every link such as soil use, fertilization, watering, heat preservation and lighting. After that, Clivia embarked on a normal growth track. Now I think I used to like flowers, not flowers. My love only stays in my eyes, but it must be in my heart. Love is attention, love is heartache, love is care, love is giving, and love is companionship.

The effort has been rewarded. Now Clivia has blossomed, and the flowers in my heart have blossomed, a flower of true feelings and a flower of life.

The flower prose in my heart 2 wild plums withered without interest in the first light, soaked with pale and soft light. The thickness of the petals seems to be hidden in the purple sand teapot of the years, and a plum branch that has fallen into the clouds is tilted. The pale yellow buds on the branches are still bright, as if they were seen for the first time. Silence alone shows a kind of withered beauty, which can be described as "wasting flowers for Iraq, which is particularly charming"

"This is the real flower path." Grandpa stood in front of the flowers for a long time and then said, "Do you understand?" I looked down in some shame and said nothing.

Time flies. A few days ago, I saw red berries in full bloom in the yard, so I chose some beautiful flower arrangements in full bloom. The tall glass bottle does not touch the fine dust, reflecting the slightly tortuous plum branches, and the big bright red plum blossoms bloom on the branches, forming a dazzling flower. The crimson yellow in the flowers is indescribably bright, with an undisguised publicity, just like a proud lady with heavy makeup and high head, aggressive.

"This is not a flower pattern. You still don't understand the true meaning of the flower path. " While I was enjoying my work alone, I don't know when my grandfather standing behind me suddenly made a noise and interrupted this self-pity. I don't believe it. "You ah, still too impetuous. Since I am not convinced, I will be optimistic in a few days. " Grandpa left a sigh and turned to leave.

One day, two days ... the red plum in the bottle withered day by day, losing its luster and restoring people's brightness, until it finally withered into petals and brown, and wrinkled into pieces with thirst, refusing to leave the branches. Even the stamens are no longer bright, light and transparent, and the lining is gloomy.

"This is very unsatisfactory. I didn't expect it. " Grandpa commented: "So this is not a flower path. Flower path is an eternal beauty. Come with me. " As he spoke, Grandpa came to a corner of the yard, where there was a wild plum tree that was almost forgotten. At this time, the wild plum is quietly blooming alone, dissolved in the snow color. Grandpa chopped a few branches at random, dug out the old teapot at the bottom of the box and put it in carefully. Snow blooms on the purple sand pot, unexpectedly harmonious, but out of reach, as if on the other side of the realm, so beautiful that people tremble. This flower is also changing day by day, but it has different beauty in this change, and it is still beautiful until the last moment of withering. This kind of beauty is incomparable with that bottle of red plum.

"Flowers are fleeting. The buds planted today will bloom tomorrow and wither immediately. Only a work that is not limited to what it looks like today, but also takes into account its blooming state tomorrow, can be called a real flower path. " Grandpa said this, and then said, "In fact, the flower path literally means' the sound of flowers'. I intend to think, listen to the voice of flowers, find our inner Huayin, and understand ourselves. "

I listened and listened, and my heart became clear. Everyone once had a beautiful flower in his heart, but this beauty was only temporary. The real flower pattern is to continue its beauty. Between comprehension, it seems that the empty white rose blooms in my heart forever.

Autumn wind gently blows into the door, faint fragrance, silent leaves, covered with track and field, crystal dew hanging on petals, giving autumn wind love, turning into dandelions all over the sky, with seeds of hope, falling in my heart.

The white mist flowers condense into ice crystals, covering up the indifference in winter. The arrogant wintersweet on the hillside still blooms beautifully like fire. The faint afterglow shines on the petals, and through the corners of the snow, it reflects brilliant light. I know this is a miracle of life. I firmly believe that there must be a wintersweet in my heart. When I am in pain, it will bloom beautifully, reminding me that there is always hope until the snow melts.

A few sparse stars set off the loneliness of the moon. It seems that the buds filled with water are quietly blooming, and the white petals are as crystal clear as white jade, attracting cold wind pity, freezing rain and tears, like water hibiscus, but it is a big village, like summer lotus, but refreshing. Like a graceful magnolia, but proud as a flower, I firmly believe that there must be an epiphyllum in my heart, even if it withers, I have no regrets.

The autumn wind blows away the clouds, the flowers wither, and the leaves slowly fall with autumn thoughts, but the autumn chrysanthemums between the fences are still beautiful, such as thousands of Danxia and thousands of red brocade, which seem crazy and brilliant, overflowing the whole autumn, and the fragrant aroma fills the sky and dances with the brilliance of the whole late autumn, like stars falling into the fence. With the breeze swaying, I firmly believe.

Pick a seed and plant it in your heart. No matter the seasons alternate, it is still beautiful and unbeaten. Bloom a gorgeous wintersweet, giving you unyielding loneliness and sadness. Even if you are ordinary and do yourself well, you can bloom miracles. Even in the face of success, you can be modest and generous, and you can be proud of yourself despite gossip. I laugh, I take my time. ...

When I was standing on the stage, I heard a flower blooming slowly under the nourishment of my voice, which was very clear in my mind. -inscription

I stood in the corridor and looked out of the window deeply. Misty rain enveloped the distant lights, and the firefly-like lights decayed the nearby buildings, which seemed peaceful. But I saw tears on the glass. Like a broken bead, tears fell from the cold face of the glass and were washed away by another string of tears, but I couldn't hide a piece of blue ash in the distant sky.

I looked down at the manuscript in my hand, and my eyes were always foggy. "You are next." The voice of LCH came faintly, and the sound of summer rain hitting the window shattered the white fog in front of my eyes. I hold my manuscript tightly, it is trembling in the wind, but my heart is dancing in the rain. I looked up, tried to suppress my despair, looked at LCH's gentle eyes and asked, "I really can't speak well at the parent-teacher meeting." Can I choose to give up? " LCH's gentle female voice said, "no, have you really asked yourself?" Maybe you want to give yourself a chance? "

"But, LCH…… ..." I was embarrassed. I am afraid to stand on the podium and feel helpless, afraid to face the eyes of scrutiny, afraid to break the dead silence, and even more afraid of ... my weak and incompetent self.

I only feel that I am standing on the ruins, with the desolate sky overhead and the blackened earth under my feet. I hope a flower can grow in the ruins, even a wild flower, but I will end its life before it germinates.

So desperate, so bleak, you can't cross your heart even if you cross thousands of difficulties and dangers?

No, my heart can't despair. My world will never be desolate.

Seeing L not far away seems to capture a ray of light. "L, can you tell me how to make a speech?" I looked at her and asked. "Don't be nervous, be natural, right here." L said, and handed me some reddish sugar tablets. I think it is like a flower, a blooming flower. I laughed internally, threw it into my mouth, chewed it up, and then a little sweetness infected my taste buds. "This is just a matter of three to five minutes. If you are committed enough to let others listen to you instead of telling others, you will succeed. " I threw a piece of candy into his mouth, and his eyes were calm. I looked at the dim lights and the pouring rain in the distance and nodded puzzled.

The fog in my heart gradually dispersed. I saw the outline of my heart clearly in the dim light, turned to Ann and said, "Your words gave me the courage to speak on stage. Thank you. " "Don't thank me. You earned your courage, not mine." L's eyes are calm.

But do I really have the courage to face it? My thoughts just settled down became chaotic again, and LCH's voice interrupted my complicated thoughts: "Believe in yourself, you can do it."

"Let's invite the representative of the geography class to speak." In this way, as a soldier, I stepped onto the platform that looked like a death penalty for me, without any hurry or delay-even if the outcome was unknown, I would still walk towards it with an extremely solemn attitude.

Ignoring parents' expectations or disdain, I suddenly feel that I am the only one left in this world. I am the only one in this empty world, and this desolate world can only accommodate me. I suddenly feel lonely and sad for a moment, like vines, winding around my heart. I have been surrounded by them and there is no way out.

After a century of silence, I bowed stiffly and squeezed out a complete sentence from my throat: "Hello, uncles and aunts ... I am the representative of ... the geography class of our class." From then on, I felt that the lights in the classroom were as dazzling as my parents' eyes.

Retelling the first three paragraphs mechanically, my corner swept over the parents who were either in a daze or playing with their mobile phones. The paper in their hands has been pinched out of several creases, just like my smile at the moment, which is no different from the actor singing on the stage, except that the play is too bad for the audience to boo.

What is this? Being led by the nose? Are the fruits of your hard work for several nights just dispensable items in the eyes of others? My voice sounds hoarse-I can't go on.

In the face of my parents who have a good rest and are as casual as watching a play, there is really nothing I can do.

Yes, there's nothing I can do. Since I can't get their attention, what's the point of standing here? Is there only cowardice in my heart? Don't, I really can only be mediocre to live?

I hate mediocrity, but I can't reverse Gan Kun.

I suddenly thought of what I said: "Let others listen to you, not you tell others." "I earned my courage, not mine." Yes, I am clearly the leader, and I am clearly qualified to stand on the podium. Why should I be criticized for holding a timid look? Why not be brave and change the bad situation?

I raised my voice, suppressed the grievances in my heart, imagined myself as a cosmopolitan storyteller, touched the audience with my rich feelings and beautiful language, and turned my voice into a cold mountain spring, trickling down and flowing into people's hearts.

A wonderful feeling surged from the abdomen to the throat, flowed into the shallow time, overflowed a little brilliance, and finally got a full house.

Every time I laugh, the audience is full of laughter.

Whenever I am solemn, the whole audience is silent.

I imagine the podium as my own stage, interpreting various stories and reciting long and short poems. At this moment, I discovered that this stage belongs to me.

I heard something growing and slowly blooming, which was very clear in my mind.

I saw it blooming its own beauty, with crimson petals and pale pink stamens, holding its head high and swearing its own beauty.

I heard you.

The sound of flowers and my voice flow together in the classroom, like nature.

When I spit out the last word, I bowed deeply and walked towards vanity.

Thank you for being so brave.

Thank you for trusting me so much.

Thank them, they are willing to listen to me.

Out of the classroom, leaning against the window, thinking back, infinite emotion.

Outside the window, the rain stopped.

In my heart, flowers are in full bloom.

Seeing such an exam composition topic, I didn't start writing, because the biggest and most delicate flower in my heart is undoubtedly the flower of love. I am willing to continue to water all my efforts to make it invincible and enduring in my heart, and let it exude permanent charm. This is also the responsibility of a mature man, isn't it? The article on such a sensitive topic as "love" is not suitable as a model essay for students, so we have to hide this most delicate flower in our hearts and make up for it by weakly drying another flower in our hearts!

-prequel

The blooming of every flower is "soaked with tears of struggle and shed blood rain of sacrifice", and the folk song "Why are flowers so red" often rings in my ears, so I am willing to pay all my efforts for the blooming of this flower in my heart.

When I was in junior high school, the school held an essay contest. I was recommended to compete with my seniors and sisters, and finally won the second prize. Later, he was selected as the correspondent of this class. At this time, I planted a seed in my heart.

After three years of high school, I was lucky enough to attend Cai Ming's class. Teacher Cai's teaching is very distinctive, especially his composition teaching, which once attracted wide attention from all walks of life. Teacher Cai often takes us wandering in the literary garden after teaching, reading those famous books that have been passed down through the ages, and it is still unforgettable. For example, during the Warring States period, Qu Yuan, a great poet of Chu State, recommended to us the work Ode to an Orange, and I can recite it. It is a poem that praises Chenpi on the surface and actually expresses the poet's firm will to pursue good quality and ideals. Qu Yuan's great spirit of being in adversity and not changing his ethics deeply infected me and strengthened my belief. I seem to see the poet singing in the wind: "Empress, beautiful trees, beautiful oranges ..." It also makes the seeds sprout quietly in my heart. In particular, the articles I wrote became type, and I was lucky enough to be included in the school's corpus. My seed finally broke through the ground.

After I went to work, the quiet rural teaching life and many years of experience in studying and working abroad provided a lot of material for my writing, and I insisted on leaving my spiritual track at that time every day. I searched the school library and left many reading notes. I also copied some books in my spare time and gave them to my daughter as birthday gifts. Such as "Stars", "Spring Water" and "Appreciation of Poetry in Tang and Song Dynasties" ... I am as familiar with libraries as librarians. This flower spreads its branches and leaves in my heart and flourishes.

Educators once said: "To give students a glass of water, teachers should have a bucket of water." Facing the diligent eyes of the students, I dare not slack off and keep learning to charge, hoping to be their teacher and role model. At the same time, I also work hard for this flower in my heart. Now this flower of literature is in bud.

I am also looking forward to it in my heart. What kind of style will this flower bloom? How long can it last? Let's talk about the future with actions! At the moment, I just want to water it with a hundredfold effort!

How many people stick to words and how many people plant flowers of words like gardeners? This classical symbol makes me know the world, see the past and look forward to the future. If a word is a flower, it will bloom brilliantly and fragrant, infiltrating the heart and spleen.

It was in the military camp that I really expressed my feelings in words. At that time, I had nothing to do, so I learned to write essays, poems, essays and news reports in newspapers according to articles. I didn't know much about these styles at first, so I kept reading and writing.

In the dead of night, I read the classics carefully, appreciate the ancient rhyme of Tang and Song Dynasties, and draw writing nutrients from those fine works. I just watch, write and think. Sometimes when others take a lunch break at noon, I use a table used by more than a dozen people to record the training situation of the day, so as to practice writing. More than 30 people share a dormitory at night, and the environment is very bad. Everyone has his own hobbies, playing the piano and singing, and each has his own love. It's noisy here, especially in summer. It's sultry, noisy and bitten by mosquitoes. In this case, I tried to get rid of the interference, let my heart calm down, put a pot of cold water under my feet, put on a big military underpants, read with a candle on my back. In the evening, the troops asked to turn off the lights at 9: 30 on time. In order not to affect everyone's rest, I hid under the bed with a flashlight and read a book. In this way, I wrote while reading, wrote one manuscript after another and sent one manuscript after another. In less than half a year, I wrote 150 articles, but all of them fell into the sea.

But I am not discouraged, this flower of words that is open in my heart is still brilliant.

But enthusiasm alone is not enough. I think, after all, my foundation is too thin and I am not ready to read and write articles. I once thought about giving up. For more than a week, I stopped reading and played wildly with my comrades, but my fate seemed wrong. Just as I was writing, it appeared in the newspaper one day in February, 198 1. Look, write more, and you will succeed! "Looking at the instructor's cross, as if he took the list. Actually, it's just that I participated in a knowledge contest organized by a newspaper, and I got it right. Newspapers are just "encouraging". Although it was only my name that first appeared in the newspaper, it was very remarkable for the instructor and was specially praised at the military conference of the whole company. The next day, I was at the sentry post, and the company commander talked with me for more than an hour, encouraging me not to give up. I was moved to tears after listening to the company commander's words.

I remember that sunset evening, I was reading a book behind the camp and wrote a passage like this: "The grass never gave up, but it merged into a green space from bit by bit;" Because the waterfall never leaves, it piles up from flowing water into the ocean; Because the hill never gave up, it broke through the obstacles and became a mountain. "This passage deeply touched me.

I picked up the pen I was going to put down again and insisted on writing one article every day. Perhaps my diligence moved the editor, perhaps my article made some progress, and then I slowly saw the battle report of the military region. I remember the first manuscript I read in the newspaper turned out to be an argumentative essay, as if to say that you should study hard. There are 2000 words in it, and then edit and polish it. There is only one sentence posted in the column of "Tales of Warriors", which I still remember clearly: "Achievement and honor can be your driving force, but failure cannot be your slide. Comrade, please don't sit on the slide when you fail! "This sentence is not so much addressed to readers as it was given to me by the editor. I cut and paste it into my scrapbook as a treasure to motivate myself.

That year, my name kept appearing in newspapers. As a backbone, I was transferred to political organs and embarked on the road of writing. From then on, I often indulge in reverie, such as drinking nectar. I fell in love with out-of-control words. I didn't know there were such wonderful symbols in the world, and a few lines of rhyming words could show the joys and sorrows of the world and the noise of the world of mortals so vividly!

Some people say: beautiful words are like a flower, blooming in one place and soaking in the soul. Let those words with aura touch people's heartstrings and warm our hearts, and these words like flowers will lead us to pursue the realm of "truth, goodness and beauty", make timid people brave, make humble people proud, make clumsy people smart, make people tend to be elegant and avoid vulgarity, and move towards a better realm step by step.

Nowadays, whenever I calm down, I will habitually sit in front of the computer, typing and planting flowers in my heart. Although sometimes my heart is blocked, through the half-closed window, accompanied by a cool breeze, I will wake up my groggy thoughts and wake up a lot at once. Eyes inadvertently swept the text on the screen, instantly lost in this beautiful artistic conception. Savor the meaning of each word carefully, and your thoughts drift between the lines with your eyes.

Words intoxicated my soul. Looking at other people's kind words, I seem to see a flower blooming gracefully, and I seem to smell the agarwood of that flower. I often revel in the garden of my heart, appreciate those beautiful sentences, appreciate the touching scene and appreciate the beautiful artistic conception, which makes me lose my heart. It let me touch the author's kind and soft heart, and I will feel the same feelings with the author, feel the same intersection of sadness and joy, taste again and again, and experience again and again. I watched and thought, what kind of people can describe such words? What kind of heart is behind this text? This is the charm of words. From the text, I saw beauty and realized beauty, unparalleled beauty and unique beauty!

Words are just a flower blooming in my heart!