A poem about Father's Day: Seeing Father in Childhood
Seeing my father when I was a child
Father is a mountain.
I am a bird in the forest.
Birds can never live without the influence of mountains.
See your mother in childhood.
Mother is a blue lake.
I am a fish.
Fish can never leave the embrace of the lake.
The mountains give me a strong character.
The lake gave me water laughter.
The mountains have evolved my flying feathers.
The lake shed all the scales when I swam.
Don't go to see your father until you are an adult.
Father became a forest in the mountains.
I am tall and straight, straight into a mountain.
Mountains can never repay the kindness of forests.
Don't go to see your mother until you are an adult
Mother became a weed in the lake.
I wandered into a lake.
Aquatic plants will always cover the waves of the lake.
The second poem about Father's Day: Dad looks at me in the sky.
1995 summer solstice, my father looked at me in the sky.
Laos said he was worried about me.
Dad, I can't see your eyes.
But I can recall your prediction.
It's already 1997, dad.
The solstice summer passed and the weather became cold.
The disaster you are worried about has already happened.
I can't avoid it because of love, dad, just like you.
In order to wake me up from the silence of death, and with the help of the psychic Lao Fang
I was killed by love and became a walking corpse.
Never go back to the summer solstice of 1995-that hopeful day.
Dad, only you know, I just hope disaster arrival.
Now I seem to see your eyes like freezing rain.
Dad, are you mourning me?
Appreciate dad looking at me in the sky
Han Dong's poems can add a little background knowledge. Han Dong's father is Fang Zhi, one of the founders of "Explorer" literature group in 1950s. Therefore, the poem calls his father "Lao Fang". When writing this poem, Han Dong has established a "mature and calm" image in the public, and most of his poems look "calm" without any emotion. However, this poem is expressive. Before his father, the poet seems to be a fragile child. Everyone needs a support, and poets are no exception, and the most important and eager support in a person's life comes from his parents.
Chapter 3 Poetry about Father's Day: Dad's Snoring
Dad's snoring,
Like a small train on the mountain,
It reminds me of the beautiful forest.
Dad's snoring,
Always on and off,
Makes me worry that the train is derailed.
Hey,
Dad's snoring stopped,
Has the train arrived at the station?
Appreciate dad's snoring
Dad's snoring is a childish song. The little poet keenly captured "Dad's snoring" as the theme of his poem, because he thought his father's snoring was very interesting. The little poet is good at using metaphors. He felt that his father's snoring was "like a small train on the mountain". Dad's snoring stopped. He felt as if the train had arrived at the station. The whole poem is full of childlike interest and affection between father and son.
Chapter 4 Father's Day Poetry: Thanks to Father
December of the year
Your pipe is full of poppies.
A warm family does not divorce.
Mind your own business, don't borrow money, don't laugh loudly
Quiet is cleaner than the ward.
The virtue of ancestors is as smooth as stone.
Never shed blood in the torrent of the century
The pattern is getting simpler and simpler.
As a father, you brought back bread and salt.
You sit in the middle of a long black table.
That is the position of professors and editorials belonging to the emperor.
The son tied to both sides is not a negotiator.
It's the golden buttons that make you shine.
You touched us with your loving eyes.
Like a stomach, gentle and persistent.
Let people learn to be human day by day.
You often had stomachache in your early years.
When you are attacked, your son will become a beetle.
I've never seen your back.
I didn't read your file until I was an adult.
Initiative, hard-working, enthusiastic, sincere and approachable.
Respect leaders and never leave early without reason.
Once you told me that I liked football when I was young.
Especially the two steps of dancing.
I am surprised that you are talking about a seal.
I knew you were a good man since I was a child.
There are more bad people than good people in the street.
When these pagans were captured and exiled, they never came back
You came out of the park and became the groom.
You became a father in 1957.
How hard it is for you to be a good father.
Confess and expose secret reports
After doing this, you will get off work with your wallet in your hand.
I can't sleep at night. I've been listening.
You get up quietly, check your son's diary and talk in your sleep.
As serious as the Gestapo
Your own tiger worries you.
If a boy speaks disrespectfully, it will implicate Jiuzu.
You queue up to buy coal at night and change a certain amount of oil into milk powder.
You go to Shanghai to explore and it's dusty. You buy clothes and shoes.
Do you know the headmaster, the driver and the doorman?
Wily, flexible and smooth as a stone.
In this way, in the dark ages, in the chaos.
You raised me and got my ID card.
It's not easy to grow up, dad
I'm an adult like you.
Diligent, simple and spotless.
The boy was born with a suspicious appearance and a bad personality.
Maybe you will lose courage or die of encephalitis.
Maybe you will run a red light, break your leg and become disabled.
Maybe he was lured by the bad guys and finally sentenced to reeducation through labor.
Maybe drinking, fighting, gambling, taking drugs and getting AIDS
Dad, I've never done anything like this. I didn't kill myself.
Parents are not far away, study hard and make progress every day.
Go to bed and wash clothes at 9: 30 on Sunday.
The boy passed the marriage examination at the age of 28.
Three bedrooms, a living room, parents in the classroom, children around their knees.
The family is warm as spring around the round table.
It's not easy, my white-haired father
Chapter 5 Poems about Father's Day: Dad's Teacher
People who don't know my father,
He is a great mathematician,
Even the most difficult questions can be answered,
Hey, he is really learned.
My learned father,
today
A serious look.
What's his emergency?
I went to see the teacher!
My father and teacher?
How fresh you say,
What kind of person is this teacher?
I really want to meet.
I've been begging my dad,
Take me to him.
In the blink of an eye,
Said to me, "Well, all right!"
But before dad left,
Remind me again and again,
Told me to pay attention to this and that,
Of course, I promise anything.
I thought about this teacher all the way,
What kind of person.
He must have a long beard,
Full of knowledge.
Of course he's better than dad,
He is an old mathematician.
If he were not an old mathematician,
How should I teach my father?
But as a result, you can guess:
Who does dad bow to?
Even if you guess three days and three nights,
You can't guess for sure.
If I were the one who bowed,
This is normal,
Because dad, the teacher,
It is my teacher!
But I'm in the third grade,
What about her,
Still teaching first grade.
She is my father's teacher,
How interesting you say!
The teacher looked at his father,
It's like watching a doll:
"You in mathematics over the years.
The achievement is really great ... "
What do you want dad to say:
"I have to thank the teacher,
My teacher taught me,
Know that two plus two equals four ... "
I just found out that my dad,
In spite of his profound knowledge,
But there was a first-grade teacher,
I once taught him.
Father's Day Poetry: A Dialogue with Father
My father and I sat under the window.
The light in the room is dim, and this window
This is a bright place.
My father didn't say a word
I've always wanted to have fun for so many years.
Say a word to him quietly
And my father is old, and the window is a place.
A good place to rest, we can
Look at each other. I, as
His son is always his shadow.
Hanging out of the window
He planted plum blossoms himself.
Now they are all blooming like snow.
This window is really a good place,
The crystal sugar in the cup is very small.
Cubes, they are all transparent.
I always feel sad.
Father said that the mice in the house
More and more, those mousetraps
I can't either. About this old house
As an old man, he always
There is a lot to talk about.
When the house is old, some deaths are inevitable.
The appearance of those red lacquer furniture.
It also gradually reveals its own fine wood grain.
On the table, old newspapers are piled up every day.
And a pair of reading glasses, he seems
Always watching the news in the back.
And that domestic cat is too old.
Always eating fishbone silently.
As his son, I watched
All this has a sense of happiness again.
I know that in a few years, maybe.
There won't be this window again.
Windows will become brighter and bigger.
Like the sky, like death.