Supplementary Essay Topics Refining into a poem?

Turn dance into poetry.

I don't know if you've seen the dance of life, you can refer to it.

When night fell, there was a familiar or unfamiliar ** from the person at the door, and the dance footsteps were tight and slow. It was a disabled couple who had just moved in, the man had a pair of feet backwards, and the woman was mute. When I saw them for the first time that day, a feeling of pity rose in my heart:

How difficult is such a life and such a family! It's not that I despise them, I think that as a normal person, there should be a little bit of such compassion. But then the truth surprised me, these days, their disabled friends come to the party after dark, and their **, dancing and laughing can be heard in the air.

I couldn't see their expressions, but I could feel their dancing fiery and passionate. In the face of such a group of people, I felt that all the words in the world had become pale and inappropriate. Saying that people with disabilities also love life and also need ** and dance, such an explanation is so weak and incomprehensible.

Only the dance with fire is appropriate. The fire is dancing, and the writhing and deformed dance is the expression of the tension of the life of the fire. The burning body sings in the dance of fire, and the burning body is endless, and the dance of fire does not stop.

Familiar or unfamiliar** is like a firework, which lights up the sky of my memory at once. I saw life dancing again in a different form through the distant years: in a humble brick kiln, the place where I had delegated my labor thirty years ago.

The kiln master's youngest daughter was only seven or eight years old, and she began to help the adults do things. This little girl, dressed in patches and at the age of reading and playing, took on the hardships of life prematurely. I looked at the little girl with pity, but the hard work became a dance in the little girl, and she jumped and danced with her tools, without any sorrow.

She immediately plunged me into contemplation and questioning: What is the essence of life? What makes life move forward in such joyful forms?

It is not enough to explain it with innocence, ignorance of the world, and optimism. It seems that God deliberately arranged for me to see different forms of the dance of two lives. From the moment life was born, it put on a pair of red dancing shoes.

This is the essence of life, the reason why people sing and rejoice in any difficult situation. The history of human life has traveled through thousands of years, during which war, disaster, sickness, and death cannot stop the joyful dance of life. Again and again, glorious temples appeared on the ruins, and after the catastrophe, mankind multiplied from generation to generation.

There is no fear, never pessimism, life dances and sings all the way, all because the essence of life is dance.

Years Refine the years into poetry.

A person's years are a journey, through all kinds of experiences or hardships or hardships, and the sweat that has flowed is the flower that blooms in life, that is, life.

Suffering, the flame of life, youth like fire

Great, it solved my urgent need.

One day, I heard from my old friend Hu Qian that he had dug up a thousand-year-old ginseng tree, so I set out to take a look.

Along the way, I kept thinking about what that ginseng was like, and before I knew it, I came to his house. When I saw that the door of his house was locked and that there was no one in it, I shook my head in disappointment. As he walked back, he saw a child sitting under a tall pine tree, and he came up to him and asked

Have you ever seen a man of height, eight beards? When the boy heard this, he asked, "What are you looking for my master?" As soon as I heard that Hu Qian was his master, I hurriedly told me my identity and origin. After hearing this, the child smiled and said, "Sir, you have come at a bad time, my master went into the mountain to collect medicine this morning!"

I asked, "Then which mountain did your master go into?" The child pointed to the left, and saw a "behemoth" standing there, covered in clouds and mist, and the trees on the mountain appeared from time to time, which was not spectacular.

I looked anxious and asked, "Then do you know his specific position?" "The child shook his head, and the two ram's horns argued like rattles, (the metaphor is vivid!)

"I don't know," he said. ”

When I saw how lovely the child was, I immediately composed a poem:

Panasonic asked the boy, and the teacher went to collect medicine.

Only in this mountain, where the clouds are not deep.

An ethereal fairy mountain, telling us about his ancient memories ......There may be too much helplessness to bear, and it has stood there for thousands of years, calmly facing everything with an inclusive heart. So, the ethereal clouds surged from his peak, and so, the mountains and rivers played the eternal swan song: all the fairy grass Ganoderma lucidum, all the plum wives and cranes, are born for you.

He persistently walked into the middle of nowhere; He persistently walked into the profound tacit understanding of the literati through the ages. With a sickle in hand, he walked away without hesitation, to find his own piece of heaven, a piece of free heaven. Seclusion, a desirable word, how many emigrants, how many prosperous honors and disgraces, have all dissipated in this piece of nothingness and merged into true freedom.

Perhaps one day, under a sturdy pine tree, a mortal disciple who is looking for you will carefully knock on the door of time and space. It seems that everything will change because of this, but this is only a false door, no one will see your return, you pass by the mortal world, leaving only deep helplessness for visitors.

Who is reciting the song that has come from eternity?

Matsushita asked the boy.

The teacher of the words took the medicine.

Only in this mountain.

The clouds are deep and I don't know where.

Translate and add your own imagination.