Excellent composition of senior one novels (1)
Take a dream book as a pillow at midnight.
I had a beautiful and secret dream.
I traveled in the Tang Dynasty. Spring is grass, evening is moon, autumn is wind and winter is snow.
Chang An Avenue
In March, in the rainy season of apricot blossom, Han Yu walked on the bluestone road with a cool body. A drop of rain falls and splashes into flowers, like a piece of ethereal music with high artistic conception, like the aftertaste of spring rain, which keeps ringing. I turned a corner and came to a secluded alley. The old fence wall was mottled in historical changes. Moss struggled to grow in the corner, swaying in the wind and laughing.
Whispering, it was cool in the wind, and Han Yu gathered her clothes. A drop of rain slipped into her palm, cool, and into her heart, getting wetter and wetter. Han Yu tied up his hair in Tsing Yi and looked into the distance. His eyes were deep and far away, and his lips pursed slightly. Suddenly, he looked up at the sky and saw that the sky was blue and the sunshine was just right. Far away, a little green, vaguely. Han Yu smiled and slightly bent his lips, revealing that "the rain in the sky is as smooth as crisp, and the grass color is not close from a distance."
Young grass is swaying in the wind in the distance.
Mingyueyao
At night, the moon is long and the stars are sparse.
In a secluded garden, a small pavilion stands upright. Around, the trees are swaying and the fragrance is floating. Li Bai, sitting alone in the pavilion, was drunk between his eyes and his eyes, as if reflecting the past years of mountains and rivers. It is like a huge picture scroll unfolding slowly in front of Li Bai, either angry or crazy, or happy, with different postures. Li Bai stood proudly in white and looked sad, perhaps thinking of his past. Take a sip of wine and it will get stronger. The moonlight is clear, like clear water spilled all over the floor, reflecting the mottled and swaying figure of Li Bai. The moonlight was deep and Li Bai's eyes were sharp, as if he had seen through the past and returned to the present and himself. Zhan Yan smiled, full of laughter, unbridled laughter, and hearty laughter wrapped around the branches. Li Bai raised his glass and sighed, "Until I raised my glass, I asked the bright moon to bring me my shadow and let the three of us be together."
I wanted to be the moon and was invited by Li Bai. I know that the moon is not as brilliant as his. Li Bai loves wine, three points in the body, seven points in the ink, a wave of his hand, it is half the prosperous Tang Dynasty.
Doomsday guests
The smoke waves are vast and swaying with the wind. On the lake, several bundles of thatch gently sway. The wind is like a sword, the sky is dark, and birds return to their nests. Du Fu was in rags, with a rickety body and an old face. But the eyes are bright, like a deep pool, only for poor people. Du Fu looked at Jiang Bo, watching the dark clouds approaching in the distance, the rain was coming, and the world was bleak.
Du Fu turned around, and the thatched cottage behind him staggered and let out a sad sob, which seemed to be pity. Sadness comes from the heart and turns into worship. When I started writing, a poem that has been celebrated for thousands of years jumped onto the paper. Du Fu opened his mouth and said, "There are thousands of spacious buildings, and all the poor people in the world are happy." Body slightly bent, face upwards sigh, high tone, but as sad as Du Juan crying blood.
I am a breeze between heaven and earth. What is Du Fu thinking? I know, you know.
Broken bridge side
Snowflakes swirl, wrapping the earth in white and silver, like a girl with a plain face, carrying fluttering snowflakes, and a little red in her hair is wintersweet, a proud frost.
Snow on the broken bridge, first frost, windy and bleak. Chimonanthus praecox lost its petals, one after another, one after another, and the red makeup was scattered all over the floor, with a faint fragrance. It seems to be the most dazzling lip makeup of winter girl, but the lip angle is faint, inexplicably vaguely sad.
Just because of this, it is inaccessible and no one appreciates it.
It snowed heavily, splashing white flowers all over the sky and blooming brilliantly in the air.
Someone came, a long winding road covered with thick snowflakes, stayed here and stopped.
I know, it was a land trip.
Perhaps it was because of depression that Lu You stopped in front of the plum blossom for a long time. It was getting late, the sunset glow appeared, and there was a touch of purples on the horizon, but there was no wintersweet red, and the snow was particularly red. The petals of plum blossoms are falling, falling all the time, mixed in the soil, ground into mud, losing color, only fragrance, if it is the first time.
Lu You left and walked along that path. His figure was lonely, drifting away and disappearing into the vast world.
I am a snowflake, which falls on the petals of a plum blossom, and I am fortunate to share a wisp of fragrance. Suddenly, a silvery laughter came, and I saw the branches of plum blossoms trembling with laughter. I seem to see a beautiful girl, wearing gorgeous clothes, weeping, but always smiling.
What is she laughing at? I realized later.
When a ray of bright sunshine shines into the window, the yellow leaves on the branches are tender and become a poem that has lost its dullness. I woke up, feel the cuff, it's wet. The whole Tang poem was lying peacefully under my arm, and I remembered last night's dream. They are happy, open-minded, or sad, all from the heart.
I touched the page, with the coolness of the morning, as if touching a delicate fragrance. I bowed my head and conjured up Li Bai's face in the flawless white pages, smiling at the sky, glowing all over, and the cool breeze shining in my arms, all of which became embellishments.
I heard him say, "Go out and laugh to the sky. My generation is Artemisia."
I turned to the title page of the book and struggled to write:
There was a dream book as a pillow in the middle of the night, and when I woke up, I was in tears.
Excellent composition of senior one novels (2)
Red willow leaf
-I would like to write this article to those regretful loves in the war years.
The snow outside the window floated quietly, covering the whole gray sky.
She counted the willow leaves used by the bed, which happened to be eleven.
A year ago, she sent him away from home with a willow leaf under a willow tree and went to war.
When seeing her off, her tears fell from the corner of her eyes, and her face froze before she could drip on the willow leaves. He took the willow leaf from her frozen red hand, stroked her forehead and comforted softly: Why are you crying? I thought you weren't coming back.
From the day he left, he asked the homing pigeon to send a willow leaf every month. Sometimes I can't find a willow, so I fold it into slender willow leaves with hay and let the homing pigeons bring it back.
She counts these leaves over and over again every day, treating them as treasures. Looking at them is like seeing the hope of life, which is the mark of his life and the testimony of the years.
She made an appointment with him to meet again in a year.
Tomorrow is the appointed day.
She has been waiting quietly, and under her calm appearance, her heart has already surged, so that she never fell asleep that night. So she counted the willow leaves again in the moonlight, and I don't know how many times before she fell asleep.
The next day, before waking up in this small village, she had dressed herself up carefully, wrapped herself in a thick cotton-padded coat, rode on the old bike and rode under the big willow tree at the entrance of the village. She waited for his appearance.
She just sat there, watching the sun rise slowly in the east and listening to the Woods become lively.
Her red hands kept rubbing, and the hot air exhaled from her mouth had already turned into ice crystals hanging on her eyelashes.
In the pocket of her underwear, the twelve willow leaves are still lying quietly and warm.
I don't know how long it took, but I know that the ice crystals on her eyelashes are getting thicker and thicker, and her hands are frozen.
Carrier pigeons still arrive as scheduled as in previous months.
The wind blew Liu Yeer between his legs into the snow not far away.
Pieces of red, oozing from under the willow leaves, dyed the snow red and stung her eyes.
Not far away, the troops coming home to visit relatives are getting closer and closer, and the creaking footsteps are getting more and more neat and powerful, as if carrying infinite expectations and eagerness.
But her waiting footsteps have melted into heartbreaking red.
Never, never come back.
The wind didn't give her a chance to cry, so the tears froze on her face. But the wind is also sobbing, and the whimper has been hovering in her ear, blurring the noisy voice and her own sobs. And his appearance, but in my mind more and more clear. He walked with a gentle smile and firm eyes.
She buried the crimson willow leaf under Zita Law and their willow trees together with the previous eleven willow leaves.
But when spring comes, the snow will eventually melt.
The wind blew these twelve willow leaves into the distance. No one knows where they will fly. But that must be the bright direction.
Excellent composition of senior one novels (3)
Run into the city
Runtu came to the station with big bags and small bags to buy tickets. By this time, the station was already crowded with people. Runtu joined the queue without hesitation and looked around in the crowd.
Today is New Year's Day, but the station is still full of festive atmosphere. Moistening the soil has an unnatural expression. When he walks, he always lowers his head slightly and moves carefully, even afraid to look at strangers.
There are more and more people at the ticket gate, only people enter and no one leaves. Besides, I have a lot of luggage in my hand, which is difficult to move at all.
It was almost twelve o'clock when he got on the train.
The noon sun is lazy, as if it didn't wake up. Everything in the afternoon is so calm.
In the carriage, you can vaguely hear snoring.
Runtu stood quietly on the train and waited for a while, carrying big bags and small bags. My legs are numb, so I sit on the floor. His eyes are full of longing.
When I was a child, I sat on the reef by my hometown and dreamed of going to the city to fight hard. Now, after nearly 30 years of vicissitudes, he finally decided to go to this city.
But the city is very big, but there is no room for a small migrant worker.
After a long time, the flight attendant found the leap soil sitting on the ground and quickly helped him up.
"Come on, let me see your ticket."
It took a lot of effort to moisten the soil to dig out this precious train ticket from his broken linen bun.
"This is not a seat? Come with me and I'll take you there! "
"But ... but I'm, I'm dirty," Runtu muttered.
The flight attendant didn't hear it. Leap soil had to nod, tie the luggage neatly one by one, carry it on his shoulder, and follow the flight attendant.
Sitting on the leap soil seat is a young city woman, wearing gold and silver jewelry, and two earrings as big as silver bracelets seem to be able to hang down her ears.
"Excuse me, madam, are you sitting in this seat?"
"Why?" The woman doesn't even look up, and her tone is very strange.
"Well, please show me your train ticket."
The woman turned a deaf ear and looked disdainful.
"ah! That stewardess! " A man in the year of know life shouted, "Can you get him out? He smells so smoky! "
"Really, rural terrapin!" Complaints filled the whole carriage.
The city in the sunset is somewhat sad. The afterglow spilled on the cold train and brushed the hot face of the flight attendant.
Middle-aged leap soil, quietly disappeared in the train into the city.