Prose recitation manuscripts

Prose refers to a literary and artistic genre that uses words as its creative and aesthetic object. It is a genre form in literature. What I bring below is a prose recitation manuscript, I hope it will be helpful to you. Prose Recitation Manuscript 1

The string of blue wind chimes in the window swayed slightly. A gust of wind blew, and the crystal tubes collided together, making a crisp sound, which was pleasant to the ear. It's like walking on the road and encountering a stream. You pick up a pebble and throw it into the water mischievously. Watch how it draws a beautiful arc in the air and then falls gracefully into the water. "Dong" a clear and thick sound, a few drops of water splashed up, and then ripples appeared in circles, expanding circle after circle. The water surface was turbulent, shattering his reflection in the water, but He smiled innocently like a child. The focus returned to this string of wind chimes. Looking at this string of wind chimes, they made a clear sound like wind chimes.

The complicated mood calmed down, and I listened quietly to the string of beautiful notes, as fresh as the spring water flowing from the deep mountains and valleys, slipping into my heart, and a long-lost peaceful smile appeared on my face. , took out the MP3 player from the school bag, plugged in the ear wire, stuffed it into the ear, played beautiful music one after another, all my favorite songs, put on a white skirt, took off the ponytail, Get on your bike and go for a long trip, right? There is still music playing in the ear wires on the ears, which makes people feel relaxed. It seems that they have not felt so relaxed in a long time. Well, it’s decided, let’s go on a long trip!

A refreshing breeze blows against my face, lifting my long hair and flying in the air. It feels particularly comfortable on my body. Songs are still playing in the ear strings on my ears, and I ride a bicycle on the road. Hair flying in the wind makes a very beautiful picture. What could be more pleasing to the body and mind than this? Well, take a break. I thought about it greedily, the slightest breeze was still blowing in my face, it was very comfortable, and the long hair was flying? Just let it go, that's exactly what I want, a good romance. Youth needs romance.

A small hillside appeared in front of me. It was not very high, but at least, sitting on it, I could see the whole city. It was covered with green grass and there was a very tall tree on the top of the mountain. I parked my bicycle on the side of the road and looked at the tree. It seemed to be very proud... It was really hard to climb up. I was lying on the grass. The tips of the grass were very hard, pointed and stinging. The itchy, fresh grass scent makes people feel extra comfortable. This is the most authentic scent of nature.

Another gust of breeze blew, gently hitting my face. A few leaves fell from the top of my head. Looking at the falling beautiful dance, I was stunned, and seemed to understand something. I sat down. got up. The figures of the leaves followed the footsteps of the wind and drifted away into the distance. Without leaving a single greeting, they were about to travel far away alone. I cut off a few strands of hair, put it in the palm of my hand, and blew it gently, and they followed the leaves' footsteps. Perhaps, they would become the companions of the leaves. The figure flying away is still clearly visible, and at this moment, the figure with long hair flying messily in the air. I pushed aside the bangs in front of my forehead with my hands and straightened my hair that was messed up by the wind. He put his hands back on the ground and raised his head, but he remembered every bit of the past.

The sky is blue, pure without any impurities, and a few clouds are floating in the sky, so white. The sky is indeed a longing place. I looked into the distance. In the vast sky, there are several goshawks soaring, oh, the overlord of the sky,

I really envy them. Those beautiful floating clouds seem to be mixed with a few black hairs. Could they be mine? I sat there lazily, humming my favorite song softly.

At this time, the blue wind chime in front of the window is still swaying gently, emitting a series of crystal clear chimes. It is the sound of joy colliding together. There will be many encounters in life, and the crystal tube Just like the collision, that crystal clear warning will accompany me through countless spring, summer, autumn and winter. In front of the window, a few leaves drifted past, and then a few strands of green silk floated into the window and landed on the desk facing the window. It turns out that everything in life can be such a coincidence. Prose Recitation Manuscript 2

During the May Day holiday and the Golden Week of Tourism, the quality and state of life fully reflect its leisurely nature in such a rare holiday. Happy people are like birds, flying Go out, go out and enjoy life, enjoy the sunshine, and enjoy family affection.

I am a heavy snail, crawling slowly on the big family tree with the sun on my back. However, this big tree has become a dead tree, a rotten wood, with only "fungus" growing. The so-called life is like an ant. Probably just about me. In short, I didn’t want to go out, so I started a seven-day trip to my home in isolation. I don’t know the state in which I completed this wandering, but the general feeling is: days are like knives.

I don’t speak, I don’t look at the time, I stay with silence day and night, and I stay with words. It’s thirteen steps from the study to the door, and it’s thirteen steps from the door to the study. My room. It's a little bigger than the cell in the "Zhazi Cave": seven steps. My door can be opened with my hands and my body can go out. However, my heart can't open it. My heart won't let my body go out for a walk. Don't know why this is happening.

When I turn on the tap water, I turn on my tears; when I see the moon, I see the waxing and waning, joys and sorrows; when I see the rope, I see a noose; when I stand by the window, I imagine myself to be a bird , let's take a beautiful dive... The lively sister couldn't hold back such boredom. She jumped in and out to breathe the fresh air and seek the bright sunshine. Her red face formed the South Pole and the North Pole with me. She began to protest. When she was hungry, she complained, so I cooked for her; when she was tired, I hugged her; when she was dirty, I washed her; when she was sleepy, I made her a bed and put her to sleep. Everything was in order, except that the sound was turned off and it became a pantomime.

My sister spent seven days in jail with a “robot sister”.

My friends said that I am as strong as a mountain, and I can carry such a big thing alone. And I know that I am just as silent as a mountain. For anyone and anything, silence is always the last line of defense and has nothing to do with strength. Behind this mountain, my real feeling is: life is like fog.

However, the perceptual understanding of growth and maturity clearly tells me: the evaluation of people and things is not a knife that can clearly separate right and wrong, red and white, the so-called black and white, and the differences. , that is just an ideal and dust-free society. People are tired of running around in the world of mortals. Who doesn't yearn for the peach blossom garden in their hearts? The situation of the family is even more blurred, and one knows one's own joys and sorrows. It doesn't concern other people's pain, but it affects other people's opinions. How to tell it? It's better not to tell it, life is like a knife!

Working full-time is a luxury, and my sister is still crying for food. So, I put on a smiling face while crying, and went to work while crying. My tired hands opened the heavy door, and the dazzling sunlight slipped in. The wind in the first building also took the opportunity to touch my face. I felt like seeing the sun again. The everlasting heat.

I thought I was the only one living a holiday like an ancient tomb, but it turned out that the happy birds flying back were just full of complaints. I was exhausted, and I thought the sun was shining like gold everywhere, and there was romance and beauty everywhere, except for my home. My mood gradually improved: no matter what, life must go on. In order to make up for the loss, I went to the supermarket to buy snacks, picked up green vegetables, and weighed bright fruits. Life was like a palette, and life was like prose.

In these days of ups and downs, I finally understood a truth: happiness comes from my heart, and pain comes from my state of mind. Days are like swords and prose, in a person's momentary thoughts. Only a smooth heart can make the days like prose, like flowing clouds and flowing water, and life like walking in a leisurely garden; and the blockage of the mind will indeed make the days like a knife, like a long night, and like a snail carrying a heavy shell.

I suddenly realized the true meaning of life, like a cool breeze blowing from the skylight, refreshing my heart and mind; I was also very likely to suddenly fall into a black hole again, thinking that the ceiling of my home was the entire sky, and thus fell into confusion. , desperate plight.

Who has a heart that never gets lost, and a road that never turns. Is this what life is?