I appreciate excellent works best.

In normal study, work and life, everyone will come into contact with composition to some extent. According to the characteristics of writing proposition, composition can be divided into propositional composition and non-propositional composition. Do you know how to write a good composition? The following is my favorite excellent composition compiled for you. Welcome to read the collection.

I appreciate the excellent composition 1 most, just like the fresh and natural breath.

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There is a breath of spring in the breeze.

Stepping on the slightly moist morning light, with a childlike innocence to pursue the long-lost spring breeze.

Willow Yi Yi, blooming buds the size of rice grains; The gurgling sound of water awakened the fresh fish and shrimp that had just awakened; Laughter, who is playing with the wings of butterflies and bees?

Quietly, isn't that the "Liu Feng" that has been pursued for a long time? At this moment, I understood Zhinan's state of mind.

Gently through the hair tip, the wind smiles through the fingers and rushes to another place. What a strong wind! What a big willow wind! Jiangnan fireworks in March, also floating catkins?

The wind came and blew away.

Midsummer is a thunderstorm season, so the wind in midsummer is somewhat unpredictable.

Before the rain, the sun let go of its heat, let the dark clouds cover the sky wholeheartedly, and the wind came to add fun, trying to drive the dark clouds away together. The wind in the air is not hot, but it is stuffy.

After the rain stopped, the sun continued to work dutifully, but the wind disappeared.

The dark clouds disappeared in a hurry, because the wind drank them and they were scared away. After the rain, the wind came back to clean up the mess. This is probably "the wind comes and blows away"!

Another gust of wind, blowing through the Woods, through the alleys, wandering the streets and crossing the city, made the seedlings that had just been washed by the rain "crash" and took off the water.

The west wind withered the trees last night.

Autumn written by poets is not always like Liu Yuxi's "Autumn is better than spring". Although spring blossoms and autumn fruits, autumn is always a little sad in the poet's heart.

I don't like autumn rain, I don't like autumn fog, but watching the autumn wind cool and falling leaves all over the ground is a breathtaking scenery.

"Last night, the west wind withered the green trees, and I went up to the tall building alone and looked at the horizon." The faint brushstrokes, only a few strokes, outline a deep melancholy, desolate sunset, lonely distant mountains, bleak autumn wind, dead leaves and lonely poets. In the afterglow, the lonely back is gently outlined, the locked brow is full of sadness, but the distance extends forever, with no end in sight. ...

Such a sad picture unfolds slowly in the poet's sad heart, creating the poet's sentimental heart.

"The west wind withered the green trees", which shook off a green leaf and shook off the poet's heart in the moss marks of the season. Enjoy life quietly, isn't it the sound of autumn wind?

As if a spring breeze had blown overnight.

I've seen too much fighting and killing in costume dramas, but I can't get enough of the endless desolate frontier.

Maybe I like the rough edge of the frontier fortress! Go straight, go ahead! Maybe I like the eagle flying freely in the wind over the frontier fortress! Born in the wind, died in the wind!

I haven't seen the scene of "the north wind breaks the white grass, and eight In the snow crosses the Tatar sky", but I can imagine that snowflakes fluttering in the wind should be similar to reeds! Just without the bitterness and sadness of frontier life.

On the frontier, the wind has faded away from the shyness peculiar to Jiangnan, the indifference peculiar to the mountains and the mystery peculiar to summer. When it is mature, it puts on armor and the iron horse gallops in the vast desert.

Wind, in the historical years, witnessed the vicissitudes of life, different regions naturally gave birth to different personality of the wind, I would like to become a free wind.

I appreciate excellent compositions best. I once saw a video on the internet, and there was no sound for more than ten minutes. Since then, I have understood that dreams can really be more important than anything else for a person. It was that short silence of more than ten minutes that calmed my heart.

That is a young man with a back, not too tall, but very thin. He stood in a big ring with a big polishing board and many cameras in front. Standing opposite him is a muscular and well-built professional boxer.

As soon as the staff touched the board, they saw the boxer rushing towards him. Thin figure without hesitation, rushed forward.

Boxers should punch straight at the flesh for shooting effect, without mercy.

At that moment, there was no P, no post-matting. Really "conscience", hit the body. This passage lasted for 5 minutes.

But he always has only one back, at most only one side.

When the director bid, he came down from the ring wearily, as if he were used to it. He went to a small corner and took out a bottle of cheap mineral water from a cheap bag.

Then the camera turned away and returned to the ring. There is a man who looks like him. Surrounded by several people, the man and the director signaled to start, so he took a short shot, showing that he had won the boxer. The camera was aimed at the man's shining face, and he smiled like a winner. All the people looked at him with appreciation. As soon as it was over, the man's smile sank, and the men ran on stage again, dressed him and handed him expensive water. Help that man step down.

The camera turned back and began to shoot him who had never appeared before. That corner is dark, I can't see his face clearly, but a pair of eyes are surprisingly bright. In those eyes, I looked straight at the camera with longing and determination. His fiery eyes are his insistence on this dream.

He suddenly stood up, picked up his bag and thought he was leaving. But he stood there motionless, with a delicate silhouette on his side. He just sat there watching until the staff started packing.

He left, a little disappointed. Maybe he fell in love with acting, loved it very much, and took this dream as everything.

Unfortunately, as we can see, he is just a body double, a little body double who can't even get in.

He worked hard, just because he rushed over without hesitation, which was enough for everyone to appreciate. Yes, he is the most humble little character, but his patience with loneliness is enough to make everyone admire him. He will succeed, and with fiery eyes, God will not treat him badly. One day, those admiring eyes will belong to him.

I admire such a little person who has been ignored, but has been working hard for his dream. It was his fiery eyes that burned my heart longing for dreams.

I appreciate excellent compositions best. Look, the flowers in spring are red and green. Look, trees are shaded in summer; You see, the fragrance of autumn is everywhere; Look again, it snows in winter ... maybe there are too many scenery in the world; Maybe the scenery in the world is too beautiful; Maybe he hurried to the light of death at any time before we found and tasted it.

One Sunday morning, I finished my homework and prepared to go to my classmate's house to play. Halfway there, it began to rain in Mao Mao on a clear sky, so I had to speed up my steps. Suddenly, a young man wearing dark blue jeans, a black leather jacket, an umbrella and humming pop songs came into my sight. I glanced at him and continued on my way. At this moment, one said, "My umbrella, where is my umbrella?" The sound attracted me, and I couldn't help poking my head out to find out. The well-dressed young man also quickened his pace and walked towards the source of the sound. I came to the voice and found that the speaker was an old man with almost gray hair. He lost his umbrella. I shrugged, but there was nothing I could do. I didn't bring my umbrella. He drew back his feet and was about to leave when he saw the young man walk up to the old man and say, "Old man, have you lost your umbrella?" People get sick when they take a bath when they are old. Let me take you home! "I saw the dialogue and went back to my feet.

The old man glanced at the young man, snorted coldly, stopped in front of the umbrella in the young man's hand and said, "This umbrella is mine!" " ! You stole my umbrella and pretended to send me home, bah! Give me my umbrella back! "The young man paused for a moment, then said," This is mine. " The old man shouted angrily, "here you are, this is mine, hum!" "Even the color brands are the same!" By this time, many people were watching, pointing to the young man and saying that he was arrogant and even took things from the old man. Young people listen to their duties, but Zhang Er is a monk-at sea. At this time, a man in a blue uniform, holding the same umbrella as the young man, ran over and shouted, "grandpa, grandpa, your umbrella!" " Panting, he ran to the old man's side, then handed the umbrella to the old man and said, "Old man, you just bought something in our shop and forgot to take it there. Here, I will give it back to you now. " The old man took the umbrella and his eyes were confused. He asked, "Why didn't you give it to me when I left? Hearing this, the salesman smiled shyly and said, "I was too busy just now to leave!" Just after that, I heard a female voice from a shop not far away: "Come on, there are not enough people! ""The salesman listened and said, "I'll go first. "turned and disappeared in the rain ... after the salesman left, the old man woke up and said to the young man," I'm sorry, I misunderstood you just now. I'm sorry, "the young man said with a smile," nothing, misunderstanding! ""Looking at the sky again, he said, "Oh, it's getting late. I'm leaving now. "Disappear from people's sight. ......

It is still raining. I can't forget that young man. I smiled and thought he was worthy of my appreciation. I snap my fingers again and will enter the crowd. ......

I appreciate excellent compositions best. Appreciating photos is my hobby. Father is a photojournalist, unique!

No, my father put his new masterpiece in front of me. Some simple mountain people came into view. Some people raise chickens to feed pigs, some carry water to irrigate the land, some feed their children ... they are "12". Survivors of the "23rd" blowout accident are rebuilding their homes. Finally, my eyes fell on a picture of "swinging": a house with a rope hanging on the beam, a stool hanging on the rope, and an eleven-or twelve-year-old boy swinging on the stool. "This is on the swing? How romantic! " I asked my dad enviously, who was sorting out the information.

Dad looked up and whispered, "I'm on the swing, but it's not as romantic as you think."

So, my father put down his work and told me the story of the child in the photo: "The child on the swing is a student of Gaoqiao junior high school. On that terrible night a year ago, poisonous gas as bad as rotten eggs filled the whole xiaoyang village. Poison gas is like a zombie monster, devouring sleeping life under the cover of night. Fortunately, he was a little far from the accident site and stayed at school. A hurried bell accompanied the teacher's shout to wake them up from their deep sleep, "gather!" "Let's go!" They did not hesitate to follow the teacher on the way to escape. The cold wind roared, the footsteps were mixed, the car horn sounded painfully ... and the victim cried in fear and poured it into the children's ears. They were terrified. Teachers resolutely join hands to form a protective line to protect students from going to the exit of life. The mountain road became very long. When they were exhausted, several rescue vehicles finally took them to safety. The child was saved, but he didn't cheer and kept thinking about his parents. A few days later, the teacher told him with tears: "They stayed in that land forever." He cried and clamored to go back and find his parents. "I heard that, my eyes are red. I thought: I really want to thank the teacher for saving him.

Dad took a sip of tea, and I asked anxiously, "What about him? Has he gone home? " "Ten days later, he returned to an empty home." Dad went on to say, "the swing is still there, but the parents who helped him shake it have become cold portraits hanging on the wall." He knelt in front of the portrait and made three deep bows. On the wall, his parents smiled as if to say: Be strong, son! So, his parents taught him to wash clothes before he died. Cooking. Feed pigs. All the scenes of herding sheep emerged, and he was no longer afraid. He goes to school with a schoolbag donated by the city children on his back every day, and his classmates love to be close to him. Every day, when he finishes his homework, teachers often come to give him guidance. He is bathed in the sunshine of love from the big family of society every day. On the swing, he swings away the infinite pain in his heart and swings to love and strength. "My father's story, I smiled with relief.

I stared at the photo, and the quiet swing seemed to swing, swing ... a small figure, flying around the empty wall, refused to be quiet. Swing. Swing ... the rope creaked and sang on the beam. He didn't dare to swing ... slowly swayed his heart. He fell into his dream. Maybe he saw his father and mother.