Do you have any poems or essays about life in junior high school?

Wow, go read the junior high school books

You stand on the bridge and look at the view, and the people who watch the view look at you from upstairs.

The bright moon decorates your bai's du window, and you decorate other people's dreams. zhi

- Bian Zhilin DAO

Broken Chapter" Far and Near (Gu Cheng).

You, look at me for a while, look at the clouds for a while.

I feel that when you look at me, you are far away, and when you look at the clouds, you are close.

Don't (Gu Cheng).

In the spring you wave your handkerchief.

It's to get me away.

Or will you return right away?

No, nothing.

Nothing because.

It's like a falling flower in the water.

Like the dew on a flower......

Only the shadow understands.

Only the wind can experience it.

There are only butterflies that sigh and startle.

Still flying in the heart ......

A poem by Rabindranath Tagore - life is like the splendor of summer flowers, death is like the beauty of autumn leaves (or quiet beauty) (Let's go see the fireworks, okay.)

Go and see that.

How to regenerate flowers in the midst of flowers.

How to reproduce dreams on top of dreams.

Let's walk side by side across the desolate riverbank and look up at the night sky.

The ecstasy and tingle of life.

It's all in this moment.

Like fireworks) - Xi Murong's "Invitation".

Memory Lin Huiyin.

Staccato, the most beautiful or the most tender.

Night, with the stars of the day.

On the stalk of memory, who doesn't have it.

Two or three graceful, flowered with emotions.

The fragrance of the nameless wild lotus.

The moonlight in each quiet place.

The wind blows on the lake, and the hair is messed up, or.

The surface of the water wrinkled like a brocade of fish scales.

The vastness on all sides is like a dream.

rippling with the wandering past of the center.

No trace, no one.

Recognize the picture.

The reflection of memories sunk underwater.

A flowering tree Xi Murong.

How can I meet you.

In this most beautiful moment.

For this, I have asked for a copy before the Buddha.

for five hundred years. Pray to the Buddha to let me have a relationship with the people.

The Buddha turned me into a tree.

Grow by the side of the road that you must pass.

Flowers bloom discreetly in the sun.

The flowers are the hope of my past life.

When you approach. Please listen carefully.

That trembling leaf.

It's the enthusiasm I was waiting for.

And when you finally walk through in defiance.

Falling to the ground behind you.

Friend, that's not petals.

That's my withered heart.

This is one of my favorite poems, every paragraph of the text is beautiful, please believe, it is the pious prayer of the previous life, in exchange for the encounter in this life, cherish the people around you who love you and the people you love, life is an out-of-print movie that cannot be replayed, some people can only meet once, miss it, and never do it again.

I love this land.

Ai Qingbai: If I were a du

A bird, I should also sing with a hoarse throat:

This earth that has been struck by the storm of the dao, this river of grief that always responds to us, this angry wind that blows endlessly, and the incomparably gentle dawn ...... from the woods

Then I died, and even my feathers rotted in the ground.

Why do I always have tears in my eyes?

Because I love this land so much......

You are like Du Fu's promise, swaying in the sky. Like a vast long smoke, it disperses with the wind. Go and see that.

In the midst of flowers, how to regenerate flowers.

How to reproduce dreams on the dream answer.

Let's walk side by side across the desolate riverbank and look up at the night sky.

The ecstasy and tingle of life.

It's all in this moment.

Like fireworks) - Xi Murong's "Invitation".

The night was quiet.

People, deep.

The eyes looked at the starlight, shining.

Crickets, keep singing.

Light and sound are gradually entering the human ear.

The mind is still missing.

Net profit is like a flower in the dream.

After class, my companion waved to me from afar, and well, she didn't eat again. I'm alone again.

I slowly filled in the history choices that I didn't finish because I was distracted in class.

The class was almost gone, and the table mate who was nibbling on the roast chicken praised me for being calm, and I didn't deny it, just like he usually treated me with his occasional unrealistic compliment.

When I was about to leave, I turned the aisle, and a boy said, "Hey, I can't go, I still have to study!" Okay, I was speechless and ran away laughing.

Walk out of the Xinde Building, walk through the Mingde Building, walk through the canteen, and walk through the water room. I met many classmates, some of them were before, some were now, some were not in touch, and some were just a "hi" and hurriedly passed by. No matter how good our fellowship was in the past, most of them ended up being only half of a friendship.

The aunt who pretended to deliver the food was still waiting for the takeaway owner at the door of the playground, and there were always a few teachers who carried pots from the family yard to our territory to get hot water, but they had never seen their own teachers. On the way back, through the cage-like tunnel, I saw the two lovely blue hats chasing each other under the birch tree, and a pair of siblings on the stone bench were eating the meals brought by their parents, and I saw them every afternoon, but my mother never came.

Passing through the basketball court, the Layan banquet was very dangerous, and the sports students sang and lay on the army-green mat to enter the jujube brothers' muscle training, and the only few rounds of the silver basketball court were occupied, and there was a group of ** sitting on the edge, but they were all boys. Playing basketball is not tall or handsome are a group of enthusiastic high school students, I have seen them enthusiastically discuss who plays that position, I was surprised by their enthusiasm, I have asked, some students answered: Playing basketball is very helpful to grow tall, just like Yao Ming, is it tall?

For a moment, I thought she was right. What is rare is the enthusiasm of this love, boy, don't lose it, this past enthusiasm.

There was a noise behind the class, I avoided the noise and wrote down this daily routine, and then the ** before listening sounded, it was "Hello Tomorrow" of milk coffee, which was very reflective.

Excerpt from the diary. It's been a painless afternoon.

It's my senior year of high school that I won't be repeating.

This is a prose poem from my middle school days.

This is the hymn of my youth.

Strangers, no matter where you are and what you are doing.

May you have enthusiasm, feelings, and life.