Homesickness is a warm sweater when you are ignorant. People who knit at this end are a shallow stream after going to school at that end. I stand at the end. My mother is growing up at the source. Homesickness is a distant flute music. He plays at that end and I listen at this end. Now homesickness is a round moon. People who look at it at this end are in pain and despair. Pain is such a long journey, so tiring and lonely. A person's dance begins with his own ending, and when he is in trouble, his pain is an infinitely extended space. When I want to leave, I can't find an outlet. When I doubt, my pain is a constantly dividing cell. When I was young, my happiness was a small candy in my mouth, but it was sweet in my heart. After graduation, my happiness was a thick classmate record. Later, my happiness was a beautiful family portrait. Time passed, but my smile was forever cast. Now happiness is a warm family letter far away, but it is warm in front of me. 2. Writing a composition of homesickness < P > It is drizzling outside the window; The wind is knocking on my window lattice again tonight, and my homesickness is like a soaked seed, which expands for no reason. The dream of wandering for many days vaguely climbed the winding path in the village.

who is that, playing the homesick song with the flute in the moonlight night, and the sad tune inadvertently fills the wasteland in my heart; Who is reading the homesick ancient poem every night, and the sad level drops the boundless and quiet homesickness. I once thought that I was used to living eight to five in this strange city. In the days of frustration like running water, the mountains and rivers in my hometown have gradually drifted away. When I suddenly look back, I find that the fragrance is sealed in my heart, and I understand that I am a flying kite. No matter where I am, the rope of my heart is always tied to the buttonwood in front of my hometown.

A rain drenched all my memories, and my homesickness was like a garden full of leeks. Long cut; Cut it long. Everything in my hometown flashes in my memory. In my lonely heart, my thoughts are like fish swimming. Once indulged in the frustration of life, however, the unchanging posture of that mountain and that water, that simple family and hometown faded into a song without words and a poem without rhyme in poetry, and my soul had already drifted out and returned to my hometown through thousands of waters in Qian Shan, and I was tasting the pure rice wine with simple and honest villagers.

When the geese flying south can no longer be seen in the air, when the leaves on the buttonwood are yellow and blue, my unchanging homesickness is playing so leisurely, just like the flute sound of Qingyuan in my hometown. Also like Li Houzhu's "hate is like grass, and it will live further and further".

3. Poems about homesickness

Yellow Crane Tower

Cui Hao

where long ago a yellow crane bore a sage to heaven, nothing is left now but the Yellow Crane Terrace.

the yellow crane never revisited earth, and white clouds are flying without him for ever.

every tree in Hanyang becomes clear in the water, and Parrot Island is a nest of sweet grasses.

but I look toward home, and twilight grows dark, with a mist of grief on the river waves.

thinking in a quiet night

Li Bai

so bright a gleam on the foot of my bed, could there have been a frost already?.

lifting myself to look, I found that it was moonlight, sinking back again, I thought suddenly of home.

a mooring under north fort hill

Wang Wan

under blue mountains we wound our way, my boat and I, along green water.

until the banks at low tide widened, with no wind stirring my lone sail.

...Night now yields to a sea of sun, and the old year melts in freshets.

at last I can send my messengers, wildgeese, homing to Loyang.

berthing in Guazhou

Wang Anshi

Guazhou, at the mouth of Jingkou, is separated by a few mountains.

The spring breeze is green in Jiang Nanan. When will the bright moon shine on me?

crossing the Han River

Song Zhiwen

The sounds outside the ridge are broken, and it goes through winter and summer and spring.

now, nearing my village, meeting people, I dare not ask a single question.

remembering my brothers on a moonlight night

Du Fu

a wanderer hears drums portending battle, a wild goose is singing in autumn.

he knows that the dews tonight will be frost, how much brighter the moonlight is at home!.

o my brothers, lost and scattered, what is life to me without you?.

yet if missives in time of peace go wrong, what can I hope for during war?. 4. Homesickness in Ancient Poems 1 Composition

A faint homesickness was quietly reading the book under the lamp, and suddenly I seemed to hear someone calling my nickname, and there was a faint "woof-woof" sound from my rhubarb dog.

I got up to the balcony alone, pushed open the window and looked, "Gee!" No one was there, but the sound went on clearly, and I listened attentively. It turned out that the sound came from the bottom of my heart. I know, I'm homesick ......................................................................................................................................................................

When homesickness comes, even my dreams are the shadow of my home, and all I do is cry for the flowers or express and comfort my heart with words. In spring, watching the flowers everywhere, the leaves turn green, and the grass swaying with green leaves, my mind sometimes overflows and my thoughts are endless, and my real external reaction is to laugh and cry.

My hometown, my home, my relatives in my hometown ... I am your concern, and you are my lingering concern. My hometown is a beautiful place with beautiful mountains and rivers. Many people have said that I exude a kind of aura since I was a child. I smiled and said, "It is the good mountains and waters in my hometown that gave birth to me."

Really, the mountains in my hometown are really beautiful. When I was a child, we loved to play in the mountains. At this time, the mountains in my hometown must have been green long ago; The colorful wildflowers everywhere must be dotted with red faces and bright smiles; There must be golden rape flowers on Dongshan Mountain, and countless butterflies and bees must be beautiful. The peach trees all over the hills on the western hills must be pink. Are there many people shuttling in them? Oh, I don't know if the rows of ubiquitous ginkgo leaves have opened, and the leaves can make tea soon; Is it still the same under the small suspension bridge as I went back last time? There are countless small goldfish jumping to probe me in the clear water.

When homesickness is written, the more homesickness grows, the tears begin to tick on the text, and the last time I went home, the scene seems as clear as yesterday. Tears filled my eyes. I saw me, my lover and my child standing in front of my scarlet door. My rhubarb dog wagged his tail at me and heard my father say, "The dog rhubarb is really sensible. I haven't seen Nizi for several years and I still know him"; I saw my mother firing in a panic to make my favorite fried bag, which is absolutely impossible for a clever chef to make; I saw my little niece, Qing Er, calling her aunt to run to me with joy; I saw the pomegranate tree sprouting in the yard, and then it must be full of red flowers. I remember when I was a child, my favorite girl and my sister folded pomegranate flowers and put them on her head, and when the pomegranate was ripe, there were always a few small heads of children next door on the wall of my house. My mother always smiled and picked a few and handed them over. Their gluttony was really funny. I saw that the ear of my walnut tree was so long, and it must be a small walnut with a big grain of rice. When I was a child, none of our sisters could wait until the walnut was cooked, and when it was really cooked, it was almost eaten by us, hehe, in fact, we were greedy enough; Also, the big jujube tree in the yard has small yellow flowers, right? The jujube flowers are small but really fragrant ... Well, the most beautiful thing in my big yard is spring.

I took a light step and walked up to my beautiful three-story building. Standing on the roof, I began to look around. I saw Aunt Wang washing clothes and her little granddaughter playing with water. I saw Grandpa Du watering the flowers in his yard, next to his big black dog wandering around funny; I saw uncle Li reading a newspaper in his yard with reading glasses, and a cup of tea next to him was still smoking; I saw dad and his neighbor's grandparents playing cards by the big bluestone in front of my house. My lover stood by and watched, while the children were playing. But these old people never played to win money. They all won corn seeds. There were a lot of corn seeds in front of dad. It goes without saying that he must have won again. Ah! Grandma Liu's girl came across the hall, carrying a lot of bananas in her pocket. Grandma Liu walked into the house happily with her daughter. It was not easy for Grandma Liu. Grandpa Liu left early, and Grandma was widowed and brought up five big girls. Grandma didn't shed less tears when she was young. Now all five girls are very filial. Grandma is enjoying herself ... DuDu, a few motorcycles, a look, ah, my brother rode a motorcycle and took his sister-in-law off work.

Sister-in-law said with a smile, "I called my elder sister and younger sister. They probably came together.". I got up and went out with my lover quickly. A very exquisite van stopped at the door. My sister and I have had a good life these years, so they all bought cars.

You see, before the adults got off the bus, the naughty nephew took his little menstruation's sister and jumped out of the car. My sister and brother-in-law, sister and brother-in-law all smiled and said, "It will take a few more days to come back this time." My wife and I smiled. Dad quickly stopped playing cards and came home. My son took grandma's hand and sat down. It was a rare happy day.

Eating mom's fried dumplings, asking about each other's situation, and then chatting together. Well, my parents are in good health, and our sisters are doing well in their work.

My mother pointed to a group of children screaming like magpies and said to us, "See, you were like that when you were young." Several of us laughed, and then the whole yard laughed. ..... In the blink of an eye, I haven't been home for a long time. Everyone usually contacts by phone. Dad said, "Don't be careless when you work."

Mom said, "Everything is fine at home. You should have a good meal outside by yourself." Brother said, "Don't worry about it at home, I'm here!" " Sister-in-law said, "mom and dad have us, but come back and see everyone talk when you are free."

My sister said to me with a smile on the phone: "Little sister, find a good husband's family, and a good son-in-law will forget about it"; My sister asked on the phone, "Sister, when will you come back?" Old classmates always say with a smile on the phone: "I know you are nourishing by listening to the voice. Come on, do you want us sisters?" ..... At this time, thinking about these things and these words makes my heart feel extremely warm. Oh, the tears of homesickness are so sweet, and I feel my heart smile. Homesickness, my homesickness, winter has gone and spring has come, and my clothes are getting thinner and thinner, but your weight in my heart is getting heavier and heavier.

it's over there. 5. Write a poem with homesickness as the topic

Under the Full Moon, there is moonlight everywhere, and no one cleans it. Then fold a lotus leaf in Zhang Kuo, wrap it in moonlight, and go back and put it in a Tang poem. It's flat, Like the crushed acacia ... the moonlight is full of the fragrance of lotus leaves. "Homesickness" Yu Guangzhong's homesickness was a small stamp when he was a child. I was here when my mother grew up at that end. Homesickness was a narrow boat ticket. I was here when the bride was at that end. Homesickness was a short grave. I was outside when my mother was inside. Now homesickness is a shallow strait. I am here on the mainland and homesick at that end. The song of Xi Murong's hometown is a Qingyuan flute. It always rings at night when there is a moon. The face of my hometown is a kind of vague sadness, like waving my hand in the fog. After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings and will never grow old. The heavy dream of Taoxiang season hangs in the vast fields, and the fragrant breeze blows away the infatuated heart dream of the farmer. It's not touching, but the colorful golden waves in the festive atmosphere swing in the arms of the water town. People are just like sucking a thousand cups of wine here-when Woye is fragrant for thousands of miles. Wangxiangtai boarded Wangxiangtai, stepped at the foot of the mountains and looked at the sky, and sent a touch of Yun Feng to the countryside. There is no Lin Taoshan Road around, which is curved and narrow. Only the hometown road leads directly to Wangxiangtai, seeing the hometown mountains and water, seeing the hometown willow and locust, and the pine tree in front of my home, which is like my grandmother turning thousands of miles away from home. My eyes have been homesick for years, and I always come to Wangxiangtai every year. I think of my hometown, and I miss it namelessly. My hometown is an old wine brewed by wanderers with millet. The longer it is put on hold, the more mellow it will taste. When I think of my hometown, I miss my hometown quietly. My hometown is a delicious food with all colors and flavors, which lures wanderers from afar to taste it. When I think of my hometown, I silently miss my hometown. It's a fragment in the memory of a wanderer's childhood. The more he manages, the more he can't make sense of it, and the more he can't cut out a complete picture. When I think of my hometown, I miss it in my heart. The longer I miss my hometown, the deeper my experience of my hometown will be, and the greater my touch on my soul will be. In what way does a wanderer miss my hometown? Missing my hometown is actually missing my childhood partner, the old house and the land. However, what I miss most is my parents who are already old. Hometown, missing my hometown, missing my hometown doesn't need any reason. Whenever I face the bright moon, I miss my hometown like a flood. Hometown, missing my hometown, You don' t need any excuse. Wanderers miss their hometown all the time. In the mid-autumn, the moon and the night, they miss each other for thousands of miles. A bright moon hangs high and reminds them of their infinite leisure. The gesture of looking around is more pious than that of a pilgrim. Looking at the same full moon over the distant north, I hope that the glow of my hometown will bring back my warm and moist tears. The cries in my ears suddenly rose under the laurel, and my mother' s kind face fell in the flowers. The shadow of my father standing in the sunset is thin, and the autumn rain and tender feelings seem to rise. The wandering duckweed leads the thread of missing, and how far it will fly. The footprint of wandering extends the blood of family, and how wide it will penetrate at most. I am ashamed of this heavy debt and sigh when I can be filial to the moon. The flying eagle passing by the moonlight hometown snowfield was once the fruit of my first love. Is it still hanging on the memory laurel, giving off fragrance? On this moonlit night, the bleak autumn wind will make a floating heart more and more cold. In the autumn, the moon and the night, the drizzle will fly, and the rising tide in the chest will break through the missing river embankment and flood the disaster. The mountains of the wanderers miss their hometown are so green, the water of their hometown is so green, and the clouds of their hometown are so light. The homesickness of Xi Murong's hometown is a flute that always rings on a moonlit night. The face of my hometown is a vague disappointment, like a wave in the fog. After parting, homesickness is a tree without rings. I will never grow old. Homesickness Author: Easy to read. When the bell of dawn strikes, I wake up a sleeping dream. Perhaps it is a dream of homesickness. The spring breeze and autumn breeze send away the rhyme of yesterday's parting melody. What I can't give up is that the wind and rain in my hometown turn into tiny drops of water. Follow the wind's footsteps, take root in the lingering feelings, and brush the willow branches and leaves to call my hometown. Are you okay? Shuttling between the stars and the moon, I always miss my hometown. David Jiang's song "Where the Peach Blossoms Bloom"