Ten excerpts of beautiful articles and compositions for middle school students.

Autumn Rain

The rain is like silver-gray sticky spider silk, woven into a soft net, covering the entire autumn world. The sky is also dark, like the roof of an old house covered with cobwebs. The gray-white clouds piled in the sky are like white powder peeling off the roof. Under the cover of this ancient roof, everything is extremely dull. There are green pomegranate trees, mulberry trees and grape vines in the garden. They just represent the prosperity of the past midsummer, and now they have become the relics of ancient Roman architecture, shivering in the sound of rain, recalling the glorious past. The color of the grass has turned into a melancholic yellow, and there are no fresh flowers to be found on the ground. The delicate daffodils planted outside the dormitory wall lowered their heads, with tears in their eyes, sighing at their misfortune. Only two days have passed. The beautiful and beautiful days met with such a musty and rainy day. Only the sweet-scented osmanthus in the corner has a few tender stamens as precious as gold, carefully hidden under the green oval leaves, revealing a little hope of new life sprouting.

The rain fell quietly, with only a thin pattering sound. The orange-red houses look like old monks in brightly colored cassocks, with their heads lowered and eyes closed, receiving the baptism of the rain. The damp red bricks, with the color of pungent pig blood, are in sharp contrast to the green osmanthus leaves under the wall. A gray toad jumped around in the wet, moldy mud; underneath the dull net of the autumn rain, it was the only thing that was full of joy and vitality. The gray and yellow mottled patterns on its back correspond to the dull sky, creating a harmonious tone. It jumped baldly, jumping from the grass nest into the mud, detecting dark green water splashes.

The rain is like silver-gray sticky spider silk, weaving into a soft net that covers the entire autumn world.

Heart Spring Ding Dong

Everyone has a clear spring in his heart, which can wash your soul and nourish your life. It is only because of the trivial and complicated daily life that her beautiful voice has been obscured and her clarity has been obscured.

The night is quiet and the sounds of nature are silent. At this moment, you can take off your heavy mask, tear down the fence in your heart, and truly look at yourself. In the depths of your life, you can finally hear a leisurely crisp sound. This is a true, kind and beautiful poem. Like sweet rain, like spring breeze, gentle, slow and timeless.

The moon disappears and the stars appear, the dew is heavy and the wind is light. At this time, you can face your naked conscience and step out of the worldly box. At the height of your soul, you can finally feel an inevitable rhythm. This is a true, kind and beautiful song! Like the bright moon, like the autumn sun, indifferent and peaceful.

You are traveling against the wind, and every time you look back at the bumps and mud behind you, one journey after another, your heart will suddenly surge... Finally, I realized: life does not believe in tears, and failure does not. Doesn’t mean to kill success! There is no eternal luck in the world that will make you forever complacent, and there is no eternal misfortune in the world that will make you miserable forever?

The glory of life is not to reject the ordinary, but to be mediocre! So when you are proud of the spring breeze, think more about it, as long as you don’t betray the original intention of beauty; when you are embarrassed and frustrated, have more longing, as long as you don’t fabricate bitter dreams that you can’t wake up from!

If you use the fountain of your heart to extinguish jealousy like fire, and use the fountain of your heart to wash away the vanity like dust, your life will be infinitely relaxed. The whispering heart spring clearly tells you: the human heart is not as sinister as you imagine, and life is not as bleak and heavy as you exaggerate!

Stay away from despicable strife, avoid worldly disputes, get closer to Ding Dong’s inner spring, listen to Ding Dong’s inner spring...

Rain

Rain is weak , is the lightest thing in the world and cannot knock on the heavy reinforced concrete building. The tiled house is different. Raindrops tinkling on it and immediately make a pleasant sound. People in the hut have the blessing of being close to nature in the rain. When the rain falls rapidly, the sound becomes impassioned, like a hundred horses roaring in unison or ten thousand horses galloping. The rain slows down and the sound becomes weaker. It penetrates your heart gently, like the breeze in your ears in the warm spring. The tiles seem to be specially designed for the rain. They play their due diligence, and the hearts of those who listen to the rain are overflowing. Endless affection.

People like to sit quietly and listen to the rain when their hearts are full of nostalgia and sighing. The old man with lofty ideals has the ambition of "lying down at night listening to the wind and rain, and the iron horse glaciers coming to sleep"; the late beauty has the resentment of "the yellow-leafed tree in the rain, the white-headed man under the lamp"; the lovesick lover has the ambition of "the parasol tree is also drizzling, and at dusk ", bit by bit"; the sentimental poet has the reverie of "listening to the spring rain in the small building all night, selling apricot flowers in the deep alley in the Ming Dynasty".

Rain has become a messenger for people to modify their feelings and express their wishes.

In my spare time, I was fortunate enough to return to the place where I once listened to the rain. It happened to be a light rain that day, and I heard the familiar yet unfamiliar sound of rain again. In the mist, there was a strange mood in the sound of rain, the kind that we had not communicated with for a long time. It is thousands of miles away from me, showing me that it is unfamiliar to me, but I can feel the breath of its existence from the deepest part of my consciousness. I felt the joy of waking up from a dream and the sense of vicissitudes after being confused.

Oh, what I met in the sound of rain was actually my self that has been separated by time and space, and it was telling everything about my past. I was hesitant and asked myself: Who am I? Am I still the same person I was before?

There is a poem: "The young man listens to the rain song upstairs, and the tent is dimly lit by red candles. The mature man listens to the rain in the boat, the river is broad and the clouds are low, and the broken geese call in the west wind." Different life circumstances lead to different feelings about listening to the rain.

However, listening to the rain is all about listening to the conversation of souls, listening to the rush of true love, and listening to the gurgling flow of time. What the sound of rain hits, apart from the echoes of the years, is also the unbearable regrets of the past and the melancholy that cannot be expressed. It seems that only in the gentle sound of rain on this tiled house can the soul breathe and life can continue.

The sound of rain is still ringing, like my real heartbeat...

A grateful heart

The fallen leaves hover in the air, composing a song of gratitude The music is the gratitude of the big tree to the earth that nourishes it; the white clouds floating in the blue sky, painting the touching pictures, are the gratitude of the white clouds to the blue sky that nurtures it. Because of gratitude, there will be this colorful society, and because of gratitude, there will be sincere friendship. It is because of gratitude that we understand the true meaning of life - Inscription

From the baby's "Wow" falling to the ground to feeding him into adulthood, parents have spent so much effort and sweat, and weaved so many days. Day and night; from primary school to junior high school and even university, there were so many teachers who worked hard for him, silently dedicating light and heat, burning themselves and lighting up others.

Gratitude comes from the heart. As the saying goes, "The kindness of a drop of water should be repaid by a spring of water." What's more, what parents, relatives and friends pay for you is not just a "drop of water", but a vast ocean. Whether you give your parents a cup of warm tea after they are tired, a card on their birthday, or some greetings and comfort when they are lost, they often devote their efforts and energy to us, but we never remember them. On their birthday, feel their fatigue, and whether they notice the strands of silver and the traces of wrinkles. Gratitude requires you to experience it with your heart and repay it.

Thanksgiving is respectful. As a famous scientist, Marie Curie had won the Nobel Prize twice, but when she saw her primary school teacher at the meeting, she expressed her gratitude with a bouquet of flowers; the great Mao Zedong also sent a gift to his teacher during the festival. Deeply grateful. Great men since ancient times all have a grateful heart. Gratitude does not need to be earth-shattering, it only needs a greeting, a call, and a trace of emotion from you.

Gratitude is meaningful. Love keeps the world spinning. The dedication of parents is far higher than the mountains and deeper than the sea, but as us, we only know that when food comes, we open our mouths and when clothes come, we stretch out our hands. And there seems to be another isolation belt that makes us become selfish, forget the contributions of our parents, forget the sounds of happiness, and learn to appreciate others is our own conscience and filial piety, because of this we can have There is harmony, happiness, and mutual respect.

Look at society, your parents, your relatives and friends with a grateful heart, and you will find how happy you are. Open your mind and let the drizzle wash away the pollution in your soul. Learn to be grateful because it will make the world a better place and life more fulfilling.

Life is not a rehearsal

It is easy to waste our lives, squandering every day, every hour, and every minute. It's easy to ignore the color of a child's eyes, the ups and downs of a sweet symphony...

Create a life, a real life, instead of manically pursuing promotions and higher salaries over and over again. and bigger houses.

Create a life where you are not alone, seek the people you love and the people who love you. And remember: love is not leisure, it is work. Make a call, send an email, write a letter and create a life of generosity.

Know that the best thing is life and you can’t take it for granted.

It is so easy to waste our lives and squander our days, hours, and minutes. It is easy for us to ignore the color of children's eyes, the indifferent and pleasant symphony of the ups and downs of the melody.

It is easy for us to live without living.

Years ago, I learned to live. I encountered a great misfortune that changed my life. If I had a choice at that time, these changes would never have happened. I learned one of my most unforgettable lessons to this day.

I learned to love the journey, not the destination. I learned that life is not a rehearsal and today is the only one you can grasp.

I have learned to look at all the good things in the world and try to give them back because I devoutly believe in them. Part of the reason I do this is to tell others what I've learned, to tell them: Think of the lilies in the field, look at the fuzz on a baby's ears, read a book in the backyard, let the sun shine on your cheeks. Learn to be happy.

Suppose you are living in a terminal stage of cancer, and because you do this, your life will be filled with joy and passion, which is the true nature of life.

Moonlight

The night has just darkened, and the thick fog is spreading and spreading, creating a calm and peaceful night. The white fog is illuminated by the soft moonlight and street lights. Dyed golden. Under the moonlight, the leaves rustled, as if they were playing a "Moonlight Song", graceful and poignant, deep and beautiful, and the beating notes seemed to jump out of the hazy moonlight, making it so exciting. People are intoxicated.

In the depths of the night, the countryside is hazy, the mountain shadows are longing, the water is shining, the fireflies are dotted, and the candles are lit, what a picture under the moon!

Life is so much like "Moonlight Song" and picture scrolls! The beating melody interprets the joys and sorrows of life.

Life is short, so why not be like "Moonlight Song"?

The moon is high in the sky, bright and gentle. The soft moonlight makes the night calm and peaceful. The light of the moon falls on the trees, leaving mottled black shadows, scattered like broken pieces hanging. Just like on a tree.

Everything in the world is the creation of God and they are all harmonious, but the moon is different. The moon has its own character, with its waxing and waning phases, and the charm and charm of the moon are reflected here. Why does the moon need to compete for glory? Her purpose is to make the night no longer scary and bring warmth and light to people!

Isn’t this the same for people? Aren’t some people just like the moon who devote themselves to others in obscurity? Although it is just a trivial matter, each other will feel a little warmth. This is the connotation of the month.

The night is silent. The moon quietly sheds its remaining light, trying its best to drive away the darkness and bring light, warmth and care to people!

The moon accompanies the coldness

Whenever the moon sets in the west, I always want to say to it: Rest early, you have accompanied me through a long night, and with you Waiting, obviously I will no longer be lonely. The gentle moon waves flow in the mist. You often create a quiet atmosphere for me, hoping that I can sleep peacefully, but the result is that "the moon shadow is floating in the light dust, and I don't realize it." The sky travels far." Your silence always makes me wonder whether you also have the sadness of "hidden feelings, difficult to express." In the vast sky, only clear traces of frost are left, sparkling water flows, and the rhythm of the sky is heard. Thin clouds are still lingering, the wind touches your heartstrings again, and there is a bleak whisper. You are eagerly looking forward to your soulmate, and you don’t need to tell him in thousands of words, just a peripheral vision is enough, even if the cloud sleeves are wet with sorrow and tears, and the window lights are like beans, because "he" is experiencing the same feeling.

The secret pain in the soul has long been unknown. Under the caress of the years, it has not faded away, only the hook is sinking. It hurts more and more when it is stopped. It is difficult to cut off and difficult to forget. The river is clear and shallow, a few degrees apart, full of water, and the pulses are silent.

Sometimes, I feel really tired and I thought I could take a rest, but my wish was disillusioned in reality. One night followed another.

Being stupid is not the ridicule of others, but my own sigh. The moon is like this, and so am I. At the moment of dawn, he gradually disappeared. On the willow branches above the moon, we vowed not to stop. The shadows fade away with sadness, I just sigh and don't look back.

Moon, still waiting.

In the autumn, I feel that your heartstrings are messed up again and it is difficult to calm down. Looking at the frost on the moon's temples from a distance, I suspect that it is hidden in the jade catkins. The song has not finished yet, and the night is still silent.

I will accompany you and walk with you. If you don’t say anything, I understand. No matter how long the night is.

When someone is worried, he is alone at night, and the lonely lamp weeps in the cold hall. But if you ask how much you are worried, you will know that the night is short and long.

Overture in the woods

I can’t remember where it was, but the scenery there does have an indescribable charm. A stream gurgled from the valley, and the colors The colorful stream flows quietly at your feet. The color is made up of withered flowers and fallen leaves. Lie down, immerse your hands in the water, and slowly hold it up. The crystal clear water will fill your hands, and then it will escape from your fingers unknowingly. At this time, if you smell your hands carefully, you will feel A wisp of fragrance will be captured by your nose, mixed with the smell of wild flowers. Pay careful attention, and if you are lucky, you will find a mountain flower that is still fresh, dragging its wet stamens and still blooming. In this providential journey, the dust on the jade body has long been washed away, and it is like a hibiscus emerging from the water, holy and simple.

Through the clear stream, you can easily see the round and bright pebbles embedded in the river bank. This unique technique is perfect. Put it in your hand and feel it carefully. There is some coolness, which penetrates into the palm of your hand. Slowly tighten your palm. It is indescribably smooth, because it fits your hand skillfully, leaving no gaps. The dense Tolerance makes the hand and the stone blend into one, and you can't feel its existence anymore, just like a clenched fist. Inadvertently relaxing, the pebbles flew away in an instant. With a pop, they fell into the stream. While splashing, they also brought a falling red flower into the water. The fine sand was stirred up, suspended in the water, and lingered in the falling red flower. In the meantime, it gradually subsided and the water surface returned to calm, but this flower stayed here. She was lucky, and her days of drifting with the tide ended. This was considered a good refuge.

The breeze blows over my hands dripping with water, and I immediately feel infinite joy in my heart. The long-lost grace, listening to the trickling flow and the trembling of the maple forest, is not the sound of nature. The stream that originates from nowhere is playing this intoxicating music endlessly.

On the other side of the stream are mountains and forests. A few rotten tree trunks are covered with fungi, full of life, and gray tits are pecking at will. This may be rebirth. Apparently there were squirrels everywhere. The fruits under the pine cone were sparsely sparse. As soon as I heard a noise, a pine tree fruit was removed. The movement was very quick, and then there was silence. After a closer look, it turned out that the squirrel was watching. It was looking at itself, and as soon as its footsteps moved, its figure was already on a branch several feet high.

The afterglow of the sun is gradually receding, so we have to say goodbye for a while.

The moon accompanies the coldness

Whenever the moon sets in the west, I always want to say to it: Rest early, you have accompanied me through a long night, and with you Waiting, obviously I will no longer be lonely. The gentle moon waves flow in the mist. You often create a quiet atmosphere for me, hoping that I can sleep peacefully, but the result is that "the moon shadow is floating in the light dust, and I don't realize it." The sky travels far." Your silence always makes me wonder whether you also have the sadness of "hidden feelings, difficult to express." In the vast sky, only clear traces of frost are left, sparkling water flows, and the rhythm of the sky is heard. Thin clouds are still lingering, the wind touches your heartstrings again, and there is a bleak whisper. You are eagerly looking forward to your soulmate, and you don’t need to tell him in thousands of words, just a peripheral vision is enough, even if the cloud sleeves are wet with sorrow and tears, and the window lights are like beans, because "he" is experiencing the same feeling.

The secret pain in the soul has long been unknown. Under the caress of the years, it has not faded away, only the hook is sinking. It hurts more and more when it is stopped. It is difficult to cut off and difficult to forget. The river is clear and shallow, a few degrees apart, full of water, and the pulses are silent.

Sometimes, I feel really tired and I thought I could take a rest, but my wish was disillusioned in reality. One night followed another.

Being stupid is not the ridicule of others, but my own sigh. The moon is like this, and so am I. At the moment of dawn, he gradually disappeared. On the willow branches above the moon, we vowed not to stop. The shadows fade away with sadness, I just sigh and don't look back.

Moon, still waiting.

In the autumn, I feel that your heartstrings are messed up again and it is difficult to calm down. Looking at the frost on the moon's temples from a distance, I suspect that it is hidden in the jade catkins. The song has not finished yet, and the night is still silent.

I will accompany you and walk with you. If you don’t say anything, I understand. No matter how long the night is.

When someone is worried, he is alone at night, and the lonely lamp weeps in the cold hall. But if you ask how much you are worried, you will know that the night is short and long.

Whispers from the rolling curtain

The midnight breeze makes the rolling curtains move quietly, the moon shadow dances, and the windows are lightly closed. Everything is silent, only the candlelight is dancing. The tea in the cup has already cooled down, and the faint fragrance of tea is still lingering at the rim of the cup. Her thin lips pursed slightly, with a hint of bitterness, and she swallowed helplessly, but it turned into sweet liquid in her throat. There is another full moon in the sky, the silvery light is all over the ground, and the cold dew on the leaves is crystal clear. You have been here all night. When the dew slowly flows through the leaves, you will carefully collect it drop by drop. I am puzzled. I ask, and you laugh. , the essence of Mid-Autumn, ready for making tea.

The drops of water flowed together, and the jade beads fell down and fell into pieces in an instant. The wind stirred the green leaves, and the dew flew over like raindrops one after another, soaking the cotton felt and the green shirt. The dew that cannot be picked up is just like the teardrops that you cannot wipe away, not because of the waxing and waning of the moon, but because of parting with you. The person has gone away, but the fragrance of the tea remains; the tea has cooled, but the love remains; the lonely figure in front of the candle remains, thinking of you; the bronze mirror has no face, but the frown remains; the sound of the piano and the piano remains elegant; between the cases, the beautiful shadow remains.

The heart is like lilac in the rain, swaying in the cold wind, with a hint of melancholy. Only the faint touch of purple still lingers in the dream. In a blink of an eye, the moon has set in the west, the candlelight has been exhausted, and it is dim, and the beautiful face of pink and white appears in front of my eyes, which is lingering, it is a lingering nostalgia.

The relationship between you and me is like the jasmine petals brewed in boiling water, rising and falling in the cup. We meet briefly, but if we think about it for a long time, it will be difficult to return.

I am reminded of a wonderful poem, <>: Wearing a green robe, full of plain skin, infinitely quiet in the wind. He Yue is the gentlest, worthy of love, fragrant and elegant, even though parting, she refuses to bear sorrow. Immersed in water, passion turns into a secret fragrance flowing from the bottom of the cup.

The long-lost peace and tranquility are always like the autumn moon on the Xijiang River. The moon is like a hook, which makes it difficult to look back with sorrow and thoughts. The hanging moon shines eastwards.

The duet of the flute music has ancient charm, the lingering sound lingers, the echo is long, just waiting for the chariot shaft to turn around, and the sad moon is hidden in the west building.

The First Snow Whisper

Finally it was complete. Because of Xueer's unexpected arrival, the charm of winter was fully revealed.

The night is deep, and the dim street lamps are lit in the distance. The fog on the glass made the vision blurry, and everything looked like frosted, mysterious and ethereal. In fact, the night needs to have a kind of looming charm.

My fingers playfully drew the word "snow" on the mist, half-written or not. The transparent notes were left behind like hollows, a rare glimpse of clarity in the hazy corner. It was such an inadvertent action that revealed the most precious thing of the night.

Snow, it really snowed, and I felt pity for snow that I had never felt before. When I couldn’t wait to open the window, it fluttered all over the sky, and came quietly..., and then There was also a blank in his mind. If I were to describe my feelings at this moment, it might be warm. Without any warning, they came together, walking briskly, and just like this, one after another, covering the ground and filling the field of vision. When heaven and earth are integrated, there are no hills in the mountains, no waves in the water, and the white water reflects the Milky Way.

The snow in front of me is not as feathery, but much smaller. It falls freely under the influence of the wind. Sometimes to the left, sometimes to the right, their graceful dancing postures unintentionally outline the trajectory of the cold wind. Perhaps because I was complaining about disturbing their masquerade party, a sudden gust of wind came towards me. When the wind blew over my face, the crystal velvet fell on my face one after another, which was very gentle and cool. The meeting with them seemed to be teasing me. When I touched them, they disappeared, leaving only a faint trace of water, and then they often reappeared.

It is impossible to appreciate, because when you touch it, its soul will be nirvana, and only the body will be left. The helpless coldness made me subconsciously close the window and reluctantly quit the dance.

Its rotation is so elegant, its steps are so light, and its whole body is dressed in silver, like a dancing ballet dancer. Under a shadow-tracing light, the scene is like a dreamlike "Swan Lake". Although their dance is short, every wonderful moment is evocative. They are like shooting stars in the night sky, explaining what perfection is again and again.

The snowy road is like the overturning of thousands of jade stamens, layer upon layer, blending into one, making you unable to bear to step on them, tarnishing this purity. The snowy night is like a vacuum crystal bottle, full of love and silence, making you hold your breath to find the sound of snow. Just one note can touch your heartstrings...

I really hope the snow will continue to fall, because of your beauty and romance.

Hope you agree