Who can post a poem they wrote? Must be original .

Thinking back to the ancient Sui Dynasty, Emperor Yang created a scientific examination. The thousand-year-old township hall has been a precedent since then.

Soon the Sui perished, and everything was empty. Cang Huaxia land, Li Tang lord in Jinzhong.

Taizong frequently borrowed, three provinces and six ministries. The first dynasty elected the meritocracy, and then it had to be continued.

After that, the two Song Dynasty followed, but Yuan Meng was removed. To the bright test and birth, the scholar reads hard.

Carry it with you every day, and add four books to the Five Classics. There are few heroes in the world, and all the dynasties are Confucian.

When the mountains and seas are opened, what about the officials. It's ridiculous to worship Emperor Chongzhen, and he saw the Qing soldiers entering.

Outside the coal mountain Kyoto, the white hanging dead trees. The Manchu Qing Dynasty eight-share exam, the scholars are all sweet potatoes.

Countless people have brilliant spirits, and their talents have been put into the ground. Haohao students are diligent, and the vast scientific research road.

The talk is endless, and the former and the dead are connected. Feng Shui takes turns, and now it's finally me.

Plain dialogue rolls, long pen dance in hand. In a few moments, Mo Ku asked the end.

Looking up at the Admiralty, there is also more than half an hour. Idle for a while, swaying oil poems.

Write casually during the exam to pass the time.

Your poems are so creatively written.

A poem dedicated to your alma mater.

There are first-class teachers here.

Energetic students.

There is a land expo garden that brings together the scenic spots of various slag stool countries.

There is a biological garden planted with exotic flowers and plants from all over the world.

There are our most cherished memories.

Have our most memorable career.

There are our closest friends.

Although, albeit ......

Despite hating spring, flowers are still fond of it;

Despite hating summer, rain loves it;

Despite hating autumn, falling leaves are still loved;

Although he hates winter, he still likes the falling snow and knows that Liang Huai;

As much as I hate this world, I only like you.

Unity is the strength of Hongkai.

Unity is strength, this strength is steel, this strength is iron; Shouting out the silver.

This power can bring down everything.

As long as the 56 nationalities have a solemn feast, there will be no mountain that cannot be crossed, and there will be no river that cannot be crossed.

Fifty-six nationalities, fifty-six flowers.

Fifty-six brothers and sisters.

is a family. Fifty-six nationalities, holding hands and wishing together:

The motherland is better!

Fifty-six flowers.

Competing to open in the sun.

Fifty-six flowers decorate the great garden of the motherland.

Unity, unity, unity is strength.

This power is greater than anything else.

My mood. It's still as bright as the sun.

But as soon as I see you.

The sun turned into a haze.

Previous My state of mind.

It's as calm as autumn water.

But as soon as I met you.

The autumn water also rippled.

I asked Rotten Round Crack Myself.

What's going on.

Why as soon as I saw you.

I was inexplicably miserable.

I've hinted at myself many times.

I'm not in love with you.

It's impossible to fall in love with you.

Because. My heart was already in turmoil, and I was hungry 、、、

But. Your figure always appears inexplicably.

As soon as I see the look in your eyes.

I was inexplicably uneasy.

I asked myself many times.

What does this pain come from.

Resentment after love?

It doesn't seem to be. Because there is no hatred in my heart.

What's that, exactly?

Maybe I'll follow up.

I might just have to tell myself.

There is a pain that cannot be explained.

Because it doesn't just come from love.

There is also thinking about life.

This pain. There is no specific reason.

Some are just the big picture of life.

This pain. There is also no rigorous logic.

Some are just scattered fragments.

Maybe. Live and think.

Life is full of pain.

Because there is a kind of pain that cannot be explained.

It is difficult to meet in the rivers and lakes, and the end of the world is close at hand.

Xiaolou listens to the spring rain tonight, and the east wind is crying and tears are cold.

If it weren't for the deep love, the man's pain would not be talked about lightly.

Youth has no regrets and regrets, and the most beautiful life is the first time to see.

Spring equinox) is a drunken dream of spring dawn, and Lin Yan flies through the cold night;

Urging the horse to run off the phase of thought, the flowers are like snow and the moon is like a knife.

I wrote it a few days ago, and I guarantee that it is original.

Often write pen without edge, long put aside ink thicker, the pen bald someone laughs, the ink fragrance is not called.

The people of the world are so elegant, they come to buy calligraphy and paintings, calligraphy and painting books are priceless, who understands pen and ink.

Be specific about what type you want.

Same question. What type can qq?

Untitled, cool and cool water in the moon, fluttering and sprinkling flowers in the mirror.

On the eve of the National Day, the traffic was busy at the emperor's house.

Untitled who has a yellow decal on the mirror.

Who's riverside is sad and broken.

Who is crazy every year?

Who is crazy every year?

Untitled passers-by are the most sad parting, peach blossoms, plum blossoms, pear blossoms, and rain.

When the cold food and Qingming are both coming, the nostalgia is shivering.

Untitled headside pillow thinking people, riverside maple love the moon.

If there is no autumn breeze, Jiang Feng is like a butterfly.

Why Jiangzhou Sima, the green shirt is like washing.

Suddenly looking back. The embarrassed Chen Feng wept.

The sunset is crimson. Untitled moon and a half meet on the rooftop.

Occasionally know the fragrance of flowers, and the clouds press people.

Resentful of the wind?

I can't sleep tonight.

Thinking about the past, the pen is exhausted.

Written in melancholy language?

Untitled when the cold is climbing, you don't look at the mountain, only to see the shadow of the leaves.

If there are migratory birds, they will drink the turbid wine lightly.

If the perched bird knows the meaning of the wanderer, it should drive the clouds back to the clouds.

The lonely grave on the mountain wept, and the only son under the mountain slept sadly.

A few poems I wrote when I was in college without a name are absolutely original.

Maple leaf red, chrysanthemum white, a pair of small feet step on and step on the sun, the moon bends to make a small boat to lead you to come, I also come to move together.

Wait until the wind stops.

Wait until the wind stops.

Just put that fallen leaf in the book.

Look at it again. Will there be another splendid flower next year?

Wait until the wind stops.

Just comb through the messy photo album.

Look at those bright cheeks.

One day, he will gather around him and laugh hee-ha.

Wait until the wind stops.

Just slow down.

Go pet the soft kitten.

Climb the tall branches.

Wait until the wind stops.

Can memories still get back to their original home?

Wait until the wind stops.

Will you come back?

Farewell rain. A sentence of Tongru choked in his throat.

Didn't say it.

Thunder rumbled. Whose tears water the pain?

After the sky lights out.

Who waited for the dawn in the darkness and never bowed his head.

The dust magnified into clouds.

Memories retreat to the corner.

Shaohua walked in a hurry back then.

The sound of horses' hooves never stopped.

Ran to whose end.

The rain was also hazy. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Hairpin head phoenix. White embankment poplar, yellow branch mulberry, cold smoke and bleak water. Flying geese alone, broken in love, the moonlight is long, and the return is as clear as frost. Cool, cool, cool.

In the dream window, I know the sunset, where the wind and dust lock the spring fragrance. The stream is bottomless, the rain is pouring, the road ahead is far away, and the spots of lead are yellow. Long, long, long.

Categories: Culture Art.

Problem description: Must be original.

Analysis: Drifting Snow (Original).

When I came out of the forest, I saw snowflakes covering the timber and the fence walls.

On the wall, a swarthy kitten looked at me with melancholy eyes.

I timidly avoided it and walked a foot below the snow.

The hoarse sound of snow made the backpack on my shoulders heavier.

The air froze the loose snow.

Snowflakes are still dancing in the sky, to meet the sounds of winter.

Let the dead branches of the pines and cypresses tremble in the wind.

The snow continued to fall on the ice cliff behind him.

I want to blow through this lead-gray cloud with the saxophone's **.

Dance with the snow in the sky.

I want to plow this closed plane with the sails of the Crusaders.

and drifting snow in the ocean.