Is there a modern poem about motherly love, a modern poem about motherly love?

Poems praising maternal love include Bai Juyi's "Mother and Son".

Mother and son, son and mother, crying bitterly without light during the day.

The general of the Kansai Hussars, last year he broke the new Ce Xun.

Given 2 million in money, Luoyang welcomed like a flower man.

The new person ushers in the old man abandoned, and the lotus flower in the palm of his hand is a thorn in his eye.

It is not sad enough to welcome the new and abandon the old, and the sadness is to leave two children in the Jun family.

At the beginning, he sat at the beginning, sat and cried, and led people's clothes.

With your husband and wife's new Yanwan, my mother and son were separated.

It is not as good as the black and magpie in the forest, and the mother does not lose the male and female.

It should be like a peach and plum tree in the garden, and the flowers fall with the wind in the branches.

Newcomers and newcomers listen to me, Luoyang Infinite Red Mansion Girl.

I hope that the general will regain his meritorious service, and there will be more newcomers than you.

"Paper Boat".

Send to the mother. Bingxin I never wanted to abandon a piece of paper, I always kept it—kept it, folded it into a very small boat, and threw it off the boat and into the sea.

Some were swept into the windows of the boat by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck on the bow of the boat.

I still don't lose heart and stack it every day, always hoping that one of them will flow to where I want it to go.

Mother, if you see a very small white boat in your dreams, don't be surprised that it falls asleep for no reason.

This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes, thousands of rivers and mountains, begging it to carry her love and sorrow back.

2. "Poems to Mother".

Bingxin's mother, for a long time.

I just want to write a poem for you.

But it was written many times.

Still not written.

Mother, this poem for you.

I don't know how to start.

I don't know how to end it.

I don't know what to write about.

It's like a harsh slap in the face of you as a child.

I don't know if it's time to be brave enough to accept it.

Or should you choose to escape.

Mother, I think of you again tonight.

I've decided to write a poem for you anyway.

Even if it's not well written.

Even if you are far away from home.

Never read ......

Mother, if you see a very small white boat in your dream, don't be surprised that he fell asleep for no reason.

This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes, thousands of rivers and mountains, begging him to return with her love and sorrow.

3, "Mother".

Shu Ting, your pale fingertips brushed my temples.

I can't help but feel like I was a child.

Hold on to the hem of your shirt tightly.

Oh, Mother. In order to keep your fading figure.

Although the morning light has cut the dream into a wisp of smoke.

I still didn't dare to open my eyes for a long time.

I still treasure the bright red scarf.

I'm afraid that the raccoon washing will make it lost.

A loving mother loves her son, not for retribution. Han Liu An was heavy in October, and the reward for three lives was light. "Song of Persuasion of Filial Piety" One foot and three inches of baby, ten and eight years of work.

Song of Persuasion of Filial Piety" The mother is called the child lying dry, and the mother of the child is wet and sleeping. "Song of Persuasion of Filial Piety" The mother has not seen the child, and the child is uneasy. "Song of Persuasion of Filial Piety" The old mother is 100 years old and often misses her 80 children.

Song of Persuasion of Filial Piety" The former mother is here, and the prodigal son does not feel cold.

1, "Home at the End of the Year".

Qing Dynasty] Jiang Shiquan.

The love of the son is endless, and he is happy to return home.

The cold clothes are densely sewn, and the ink marks of the family letter are new.

When he met Pian Qingqing, Hu'er asked about the hardships.

He was ashamed of the son of man, and he didn't dare to sigh for the dust.

Translation: A mother's love for her children is endless, and when I came home during the Chinese New Year, my mother was so happy!

She was sewing a cotton coat for me, and the letter I sent had just arrived, and the ink was still fresh.

As soon as I saw my mother, she lovingly said that I had lost weight, and asked me again and again if I was suffering outside?

I bowed my head in shame, not daring to tell her about my wanderings.