This is particularly profound in the literary manuscripts on the radio. The writing of literary manuscripts should consider not only the broadcasting skills of the announcer, but also the comprehensive quality of the announcer. As the saying goes, kung fu is outside the play. Let's read this literary broadcast with me!

Literary broadcast manuscript

Let go of the seeds of ideals and hopes.

Each of us is going from childhood to maturity step by step, just like sailing against the water with the brave along a river.

When we were young, we all had some beautiful, beautiful and somewhat naive and unrealistic fantasies, just like colorful pebbles by the river.

We were all drunk by those gorgeous colored pottery.

Gradually, when we grow up, our eyes shift from pebbles under our feet to the front.

At the source of this river, stands a majestic and towering snow-capped mountain, which is fascinating.

We call it ideal.

A most beautiful word! ~ Ideal contains our yearning for the future, our hope for the future and our longing for a better future.

Golden childhood, precipitation childhood happiness, precipitation faint fragrance.

Just like the old daughter is red, the longer it gets, the more fragrant it gets, and the longer it gets, the less satisfied it is with the aftertaste.

When I was a child, my greatest dream was that my parents could buy me more toys and delicious food.

Now it seems that I feel how naive I was when I was a child.

When I grow up, I gradually understand: The ideal does not lie in a delicate flower, it needs our eager eyes to moisten it and our sincere hearts to care for it.

? Indeed, everyone has an ideal, but the key to making this beautiful ideal come true is to look at yourself.

Cheer up in failure, work hard in cheer up, and win in hard work. This is the spirit we want.

As the saying goes:? Where there is a will, there is a way. .

I believe that as long as we study hard, be practical and reliable, we will definitely make our ideal come true! ~ ideal is stone, knocking out the fire of a star; Ideal is the lamp that illuminates the road at night.

Ideal is fire, lighting the extinguished lamp; Ideal is the road that leads you to the dawn.

Of course, the ideal is also a kind of motivation, which pushes us forward.

Let's put wings on our ideals and let's fly them together.

I don't know what to write, hehe, post what I wrote when I was still at the school radio station ~ ~ It's a blog ~ ~ lazy ~ ~

Background music from the beginning to now 4? 29?

The streamer easily dumped people, turning cherries into red and plantains into green.

Standing by the fence in front of the old gate, we overheard the footsteps of time.

Come from yesterday and go tomorrow.

It won't stop or change its speed. It just looked at the joys and sorrows of the world indifferently, looked at the carved face and mottled bark, and went on like this until the seas dried up and the rocks crumbled.

Open your dusty memory and hold out those carefully air-dried wines, whether sweet or sour, which I believe will become mellow.

Today, let's raise our glasses and enjoy the time together.

Welcome to sculpture time. I'm Song Mingfeng.

Deep in the memory of background music

In childhood

In my memory, the sky in my childhood is crystal clear, as if water seeped out with a pinch.

I still remember the big locust tree in front of my grandmother's house. On the day when the flowers bloom, the whole courtyard is full of fragrance.

I lived with my grandmother for a long time.

It is a pure land with unknown flowers blooming brilliantly. In the cool wind, birds are chirping deep in the branches.

At that time, I was young and liked to run around. When you are tired, stop and raise a naive smile in the wind.

I like catching bees with dirty gloves. Sunlight pours down and gently hits the petals of wild flowers, making the air smell sweet.

Small hands and feet, be careful.

Still stung by bees.

The delicate hand is swollen and painful.

I threw away my gloves angrily, frowned, and stubbornly resisted crying.

So, grandma was very enthusiastic and successful, so she carefully covered my cheek.

I looked at her with black and white eyes, and my little lips tilted slightly until my eyes were full of tears.

Then grandma raised her chin and smiled as brightly as the blue sky. The wrinkles on her face are like sunshine.

I laughed so hard that I was embarrassed to cry.

Later, the bee died.

I finally forgave that little bug.

But who will forgive me?

After all, I made it lose its needle and life.

Grandma raised my cheek buried in her arms with rough hands and said she forgave me.

Pat the mud and grass on your body. If you are hungry, go home.

Accompanied by the boring cicada singing in midsummer.

Grandma handed me a small dish of pumpkin pie, which was given by grandma next door. Eat slowly.

My eyes suddenly lit up.

Drooling while eating.

By my side, the crow's feet on grandma's face are very tolerant and have a kind of beauty.

In the blink of an eye, there was only one left on the plate. I licked my finger and wanted to take it.

Suddenly looked up, grandma hasn't eaten yet.

Grandma, you eat. I'm full.

I can't. Grandma's teeth are bad and too hard to eat.

Grandma said with a smile.

So I picked it up again and ate it quickly.

I just didn't realize that pumpkin pie was too soft and too hard to bite.

The thorn plum flower bed in the yard was old, so grandma asked someone to rebuild it.

The fresh cement is wet and shines in the sun.

Grandma said, listen, don't step on it.

I wonder why I can't step on it. I jumped off it yesterday.

Grandma went to take a nap. I sneaked in and stepped on it, and my shoes sank. It is so soft.

Next, one foot after another, the still wet cement flower bed was covered with my little footprints.

Later, grandma raised her palm high, but after all, she didn't photograph it.

Grandma loves me. Although I can be naughty sometimes, she forgives me and tolerates me because of love.

Then the water evaporated bit by bit, and those footprints were branded there forever. Now it seems that my feet were very small then, maybe not half as big as they are now.

The background music loves Zuo Ai right.

Time passed, I grew up inexplicably, then left my grandmother, left home and went to another city to study at university.

At the same time, my grandmother is getting old. When I went back from my first vacation, my grandmother's Alzheimer's disease had made her understand nothing, but she still knew me and only listened to me, just like when I was a child.

I washed my grandmother's face and feet, scrubbed her gully body carved by years, and combed her sparse gray hair.

I am light and slow, just as she is afraid of hurting me.

Time flies, we seem to be children again, but my grandmother and I have exchanged roles.

The holiday passed quickly. When I left, grandma held my hand tightly and refused to let go.

As before, I refused to leave her to go to primary school.

Grandma, please wait for me. Please wait for me.

When I went back for the second holiday, my grandmother had already left, and so had the person who loved me the most when I was a child.

No one told me to study outside, and I didn't even give her a ride.

The heart that hung for half a year was finally put down, and the tears flowed quietly like that, without even making a sound.

The thorn plum trees in the yard are blooming brightly, and the footprints on the edge of the flower bed are still there. It's just that things have changed, and I'll never see grandma again, her wrinkled and weather-beaten face, and the warm temperature of her rough hands.

I missed ten years of my life for her happy year, but I don't know who to make this deal with.

In our life, people who love you come and people who love you leave.

Happiness is unhappiness, happiness is unhappiness, and the palm of your hand is too close to your heart.

I have to leave my grandma's life.

Occasionally wronged, do not let tears flow down, look up at the sky.

Sunlight will fall, like touching my face, just like the temperature of grandma's palm.

Miss when I was a child, those stories about time may be suitable for grandma to tell at night, so let me listen to every word.

Play Dark Sky 3? 54?

Background music from the beginning to now 4? 29?

memory

I often walk alone after the rain; Let the rain wet my clothes and let the wind and rain fall on my face; On a drizzly night, I felt an unforgettable memory and a warmth that was only close yesterday.

Not melancholy, but also sadness.

Because the past days always seem to be happier than now.

I can't forget the original forest path, the quiet songs, the flowers that depress the branches, and the birds that suddenly pass by in the sky without leaving a trace.

Although the footprints behind us are getting longer and longer, although we are getting farther and farther away from the scenery.

But when we look back, they are still shining in the dark.

Those bright spots are people or things that we have loved, hated, loved, cried and laughed, and they are eternal scenery on our life.

Some people say that the process of life is like a war between the past and the future. Past? Always aggressive, the future? But it can only be defeated; Arrive? Future? When all the autumn, life becomes? History? .

This is a war with only one ending forever, and there is no suspense.

The scene of childhood has not yet dispersed, but the bad luck of youth has come.

When I was young, I always felt that the days passed too slowly, but now I try to keep up with the pace of time.

I don't know when the heart of celebrating my birthday has faded.

In fact, a birthday is the threshold of a year.

No matter how much cover-up, it is like a tree. No matter how lush its branches and leaves are, when you look at it, the vicissitudes of life are written on the bark, only the annual rings that gradually spread around will never stop.

Sitting by the river of the years, watching the time slide gently, there are colorful losers and our figures on the water.

The familiar figure is showing a movie called time, and then I understand it.

The director's fate is always too eager to intervene and arrange some conventional unhappy endings. Only when he is lazy and takes a nap will he occasionally flash a happy moment.

So we always cling to those rare moments and refuse to let go, so we have the happiness of memories.

The prelude to the background music "Looking Back", and then play the fourth song alone after watching it? 15?

At this dusk, with the afterglow of the sunset, let's look back again, recall our fleeting time and share those happy memories that belong to us.

Play the background music in the memory about three times. 2 1?

There are always some scenery that makes us linger, and there are always some people or things that make us cherish carefully and are reluctant to forget.

Only when we think about it and look back for traces, do we find that the world we live in always changes inadvertently, and everything has long since ceased to exist.

commemorate

Thinking of the sunshine that day, I was in a trance, as if the tall boy was coming face to face.

I think the first conversation between boys and girls should be freshmen. It was an afternoon in the school computer room. The warm sunshine shines on the blackboard behind the computer room through the cracks in the curtains, making the whole room warm and bright, and even the dust floating in the air can be clearly seen.

The boy came and said that he wanted to borrow the girl's machine to choose courses. From then on, the girl knew the boy's name.

When they meet again in the future, they will nod and say hello, and that's how they met.

The days are moving forward calmly, just like the life of a girl in Grade Two. Every day is a simple habit of repeating.

Occasionally look up at the sky when you are busy. Although they are all the same blue sky, I feel strange. I wonder if the sky in the city where I grew up is the same blue, and there are the same clouds floating by.

It won't be too sad to live alone in such a strange blue sky and white clouds. After all, we grow up every day and have learned to forgive.

Maybe life is too boring. The girl went to the club.

Coincidentally, I became colleagues with that boy.

They often work together and discuss problems, so they get to know each other day by day.

Girls find that boys are particularly sunny, as long as he is around, they will always be very happy, because boys always have endless happy things.

Sometimes even a little childish, a little cute and domineering, all have unique attraction, just like returning to a carefree high school.

This reminds the girl of the past.

Although not too sad, but also a little sad. After all, the past days were simple and beautiful, and we can't go back.

When she has nothing to do, the girl will go to the library. Although I hate my science and engineering major, the library is quiet and spacious, with big windows that will shine a lot of sunshine.

Girls like sunshine, and the feeling of being surrounded by sunshine is very warm and happy.

Just like being held, there is a sense of security.