Many people have written prose in their daily study, work or life, right? Prose has the highest demands on the author's subjective emotions among all literary styles, second only to poetry. What kind of prose have you seen? Below are the lyrical and sad prose poems I have collected for you. I hope it will be helpful to you! Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 1

At this moment, I always feel that everything around me is bathed in the breeze and bathed in happiness. I saw real fallen leaves, withered and yellow all over the place, like notes hitting the heartstrings, like petals peeling off and stranded on the beach. Groups of dark clouds rolled into the sorrow of separation, not caring about the gentleness of the fallen leaves. Emptiness ruthlessly overwhelms emotions, longing for happiness is a struggle to escape pain, and the desolation of fallen leaves is a farewell to the withered yellow and no more cold seasons.

In the bright and leisurely season, the sun still sincerely accompanies you, blooming brightly and green, revealing the rich fragrance of the buds, overflowing with the immortal poems collected on the letterhead. I sighed from the bottom of my heart. The bleak autumn wind was incomprehensible as the fallen leaves broke free from the branches and drifted away, but everyone was eagerly watching the lightness of the fallen leaves. The silence of the fallen leaves echoed in people's ears for a long time, and who knew the mournful cry of the fallen leaves.

Don’t say that longing is just a wish and prayer. Without suffering, there will be no beauty, yearning and passion. I always like to say that dreams are on the road to warmth. Only when you accept indifference do you realize that the wilderness is a place where tears drop. Stare at the fading memories to your heart's content, and what remains in the feeling is a smile. Even if you face the waves after being gentle, it will be muddy and blurred when it is clear. Those strands of looking back at the mood, waiting for the dawn to open your mind to wandering and longing.

Lingering dreams shine before my eyes, my heart betrays my composure unscrupulously, time is engraved with traces of youthful years, and the delicate fragrance can no longer be hidden in eternal memories. The passing time leaves only desolate ruins, and the original youthful flavor in life also disappears along with the withering and yellowing. Frustration and even bitterness cannot sink into the bottom of my heart. Unable to resist the wind, frost, snow and rain, Qiu Siyu is to make the withered green again, to tremble in the cold wind, to be brilliant and frightened, to be mature and run in the embrace of nature.

I heard the sound of heartbreak among fallen leaves again, and the autumn wind never separated my love for farewell. A chilly night on the beach, where the desolation wakes me up from my dreams. Looking at the withered yellow leaves all over the ground, the noise in the soul becomes more and more miserable. Even the crystal in your eyes cannot settle on the shore of your heart. The silent refusal is the rain that has soaked the loneliness and sadness. The falling leaves are a sign of affection for the autumn wind, and the bleak autumn wind is a sign of guarding against the fallen leaves. In the autumn leaves gradually turning yellow season, I believe that the autumn wind sweeps the fallen leaves, I believe that leaning on the cold iron railings feels the misery of the fallen leaves, I believe that fallen leaves are everywhere and there are wounds everywhere. It’s time again when the fallen leaves turn yellow, and the autumn wind blows away the sorrow. Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 2

Pick a piece of cloud and fly above the cloud. Dreams are like light smoke, blowing in the wind, and eventually disappearing on the other side of the dream.

I have looked away countless times, stopped countless times, tossed and turned countless nights, but how many times I caught fire in my dreams, and when I woke up, I could only shed a thousand lines of tears.

The long night, the long night, only the moonlight is still as desolate as a thousand years ago.

Catch the moonlight, lie alone under the cherry blossom tree, use time to brew a pot of fine wine, drink it all in one gulp, and forget the old dreams.

Now that the fireworks are gone, they are easy to get cold, and the moonlight cannot withstand the vicissitudes of the world. It has chilled the world and the soul.

The flowing clouds are like dreams, floating in the vast sky. The wind blew and the clouds dissipated. After all, it only wetted the soul.

The tide rises and falls, the flowers bloom and fade, how many perfections are there in the world, and how long will the waning moon be full?

I have always hoped that I could write all the love and hate in the world with a plain pen, but in the end I found it difficult to describe the sadness.

Look at the clouds and smoke indifferently, and watch the flowers fall quietly. The floating clouds are flowing, the days are turning page by page like water, and youth is in twilight in a blink of an eye.

How many years can a life last? How many times can the subtle fragrance reflect and float? In the endless time, I sing and walk.

The passing years are like the moon, illuminating a whole world and freezing the whole city.

As you type on the keyboard, the words slide out lightly between your fingertips. Holding the pen in your hand, the faint scent of ink left on your fingertips turns into a wisp of time, leaving a fragrance between time and space. .

I believe that one day I will become the person I want to be. I believe that one day, my pen will shine with hope.

Hundreds of flowers wither, how many flowers have fallen in the dream? Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 3

I hope there is someone like you. Such as the calm and soothing music of Slowly Long Night, just a single loop can fill the entire room with loneliness and hesitation. Even if you don't speak, don't worry about the excitement and bustling suddenly bursting in outside the window.

I wish there was someone like you. Dancers are as passionate as peach blossoms in full bloom. From lightly moving my steps to covering half of my face with my sleeves, the cold wind blows, and the peach blossoms flutter and frown, which amazes me throughout the four seasons. The flowers bloom and peek through the door, the flowers fade away and people shed tears. I feel sad and dream a thousand times. Outside the small window, I was dressing up. The beautiful woman was standing by the water, and the sunlight was slightly cool and there was a hint of desolation. I wish there was someone like you. In my calm and unchanging world, the rivers and seas are turning upside down, and the turbid waves are emptying out. From now on, I no longer have to be afraid of the desolation of the desert frontier. When I suddenly return home from my dream, I wake up with the loneliness and sorrow of my humble soul.

I was like a frightened lamb that separated from the group. I stumbled all the way, going around and around, but still couldn't find my destination. So I wandered around, wandering around the world. Maybe I was destined to be lonely in this life. I was destined to be lonely. No branches to rely on.

I wish there was someone like you. As kind, tolerant and gentle as a mother. Always the same, he treats me as he always does. He doesn't dislike me for being ugly or downtrodden, he doesn't dislike me for being timid or timid, and he doesn't dislike me for being clumsy or boring. You accepted all my filth and unbearability, and you protected all my embarrassments and accusations. You were worried and confident enough to let me wander on the road of survival.

I wish there was someone like you. Like old wine, it is fragrant when opened. Old friends are like old wine. The longer they are, the more fragrant they become. They can withstand time, precipitation, and stillness. A thousand pieces of gold are easy to find, a friend is hard to find, and a confidant is rare. Listening to the mountains and flowing water and knowing what they mean is like Boya and Ziqi.

Living in a quiet and quiet courtyard for a long time has washed away the joys and sorrows of gain and loss in the world, but it has also left me with a lonely human heart. There are some gossips that I always want to find someone to talk to. Who can hold a candle and talk at night? There are three thousand faces, but some people treat them perfunctorily and deal with them hastily. Some people treat it as if they were listening to a book, enjoying themselves but not knowing what it means. Some people treat people sincerely and treat them as if they are precious delicacies. Such is the case with old friends. You can talk about meat and vegetables freely without worrying about formal etiquette, education and rationality. Get drunk and talk happily, no matter how many reincarnations will happen tomorrow. I wish there was someone like you... Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 4

There is no winter colder than this one.

The cold wind blows from the loneliness and silence. There are fallen leaves hanging on the branches in the yard that are about to drift away. There are still some emerald green leaves that have not completely turned yellow, and there are also green leaves that have not seen spring yet. They are not just drifting away, but they are scattered all over the sky.

What about the ground?

Come into your eyes, come into your eyes. What does the chaotic order mean? Is it a problem with thinking or is it caused by deep gaze? The eyes touch the breath of death, like this winter has penetrated my font (sentences criticizing the underworld forces for more than a year).

Green leaves are always falling in the sky, and the forces on the ground are playing games, whistling, sheng and Xiao, the order returns to the vibrating sound, and the law of spring is cut away by the sword of the underground black force. Do piles of dirt and weeds count as bloody heads? They are filled with prosperous starry sky and bright moon. They are covered with stars and peck at the dew of the sky. They are as long and graceful as the breeze and the pines.

It’s really hard to tell the truth;

Country slang says:

"Don't talk about a few words, don't talk about corruption, don't talk about defeat, don't talk about blackness, don't talk about strength, don't talk about gangsters, don't talk about stealing, don't talk about killing, don't talk about death. Don’t make things right when it’s chaos.” This is a lesson.

I heard something that kept me awake late at night.

It is said that in the village, there is a strong man in the underworld wearing modern clothes. Not long ago, he took a fancy to a pine tree. The morning dew hung on this pine tree, and the moon clothes danced in the bright spring. : This tree has the foundation of heaven and earth, and has a backbone that lasts for thousands of years. It is against us underworld people and is an enemy. If you chop it down, it will destroy the customs and morals of the people in heaven and earth. Secondly, it will bury the bones and spirits of the earth. Let’s see who dares to believe it again. The loose bones are refreshing.

That night, the dark wind was blowing and the earth was heavy. There was a teacher in the village who often went under the pine trees, chanting and pecking at the text, bathing in the moon spring with his eyes, and the breeze on his sleeves. He could only hear the word "Alas", and his breath disappeared, and the remaining breath stuck to the sound of the black man's knife tip.

No one will know the next day.

There were just villagers whispering that there was a headless dead sound fragment in the woods. They were placed on a pile of scattered papers. In the cold wind of winter, they were like catkins on the river bank, drifting away with the wind and water.

I really can’t tell the truth. Thinking of that night, Dao Shangfeng was still screaming, specializing in killing those teachers who used their words to expose the dark forces. Just when he was about to stop thinking about it, the dead breath floated in the air again, saying: To kill his family first, he can write, and then make him crazy and the others cannot speak; if you do it this way, death will be due to mental disorder, and people will not see it. We are tough.

This article has been written. I am neither a teacher nor a writer. I have never even published a book in my life, and I am still in the woods. Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 5

At night, it sounds like a beautiful misty scene, which makes people daydream endlessly, and the tired body is relieved at this moment. I started to like Ye a long time ago, because she is still your loyal fan and listens to every bit of your story. The great hero Cao Cao once said, "Death is like a cool summer night, allowing people to sleep without worries." Of course, we know that this is not an expectation of death, but a cherishment and yearning for the night.

Perhaps the night is a phantom pool created by God. As long as you have a pious heart, the night can satisfy all your wishes. Once upon a time, a scientist was born in the night, no! It should be said that it was night that made this scientist successful: the discovery of the molecular structure of the benzene ring is undoubtedly a miracle in the chemical world.

Although it is said that "the sun and the moon are forgotten, life and death are forever separated", and people cannot control life and death, but the night was satisfying for the reunion of countless relatives. It was here that Su Shi met his wife who had left him for ten years, but The picture is so desolate and heartbreaking, "they looked at each other speechless, only a thousand lines of tears".

In the night, the dark night. Sitting stupidly, he slowly began to look at the world calmly, just like a newborn baby. He has no memory, let alone any sadness.

Sitting in front of the table, intentionally turning off the lights, I experienced the rare tranquility. Maybe the brain is capable of random daydreams, like Shi Tiesheng thinking about the complex philosophical issues of life and death. I know that Shi Tiesheng is not a philosopher, he is a man of letters, but his view of infinite sadness and despair is also more complicated. True.

I think walking in the dark night is a pleasant thing. A person walks through the deep forest and walks on the path. The moonlight shines through the gaps in the leaves beside the road. Looking up at the moon, His eternity makes life feel like a mayfly. In the quiet night, everything is so relaxed, the long and quiet path, only the sound of heartbeat can be heard, but there is no sense of terror. Speaking of which, about ghosts and gods. I have always been a believer in science. Needless to say, I am a believer in science. Grandpa once asked me, like Mrs. Xianglin asked Lu Xun, whether there is still a soul after death, whether there is an afterlife, etc. However, my answer is so firm. Death is like dust and disappears from the world, leaving nothing behind. But I don’t know how much spiritual support is needed in the despair of life... I regret that I hurt others because of what I thought was the truth. Maybe I should tell him that there is an afterlife, and perhaps I should believe that there is an afterlife, so that he and I can get some comfort. "Death has knowledge, but it is far away; it is ignorant and sad for a short time, but those who are not sad will last forever." The ancient Han Yu felt that it does not matter whether there is an afterlife or not.

It was "night" that made me melancholy. I looked at the vicissitudes of the world indifferently. It turns out that love never stays.

Lyrical and Sentimental Prose Chapter 6

After midnight, I leaned quietly against the cold wall. A pale and tired face was reflected in the mirror. I looked at him. Under the dim light, he looked so expressionless. He has become much older, and his pupils are no longer as bright as before. There seemed to be a thousand words for me in the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. Sudden! ! ! He roared like a lion, and this shocking roar pierced the sky. Then he lit a cigarette and puffed out the smoke, which filled the entire room. Maybe it would make him less tired.

Lying on the floor, facing the ceiling, it was like being trapped in a cold and inescapable cage. I couldn't help but turn over the past diary in my mind, and my heart felt a little sad, which made my heart no longer so peaceful tonight. Maybe I’m tired, maybe I’m exhausted, maybe I’m exhausted, and I want to use alcohol to let myself enter the dreamland, but it makes me a lot more excited in this unknown night, but it’s not happiness. This may be the loneliness in loneliness. .

Humming a song, even I don’t know what I am singing. Maybe I am lonely, or maybe I am sad. I got up and wanted to look at the moonlight outside the window, hoping that with the moonlight, my soul could be comforted, even if there was a little bit of relief, Yue and I played a dark humor. Are you fooling me? Still don't want to see my soul lost this night. Alcohol seeped into my blood, igniting my inspiration again, and I wrote and painted quietly.

Opening the window, the cold wind blew in my face. There was no chill at all, because my heart had already frozen into ice. I don’t know how many people are like me on such a night. Maybe your story is different from mine, but your ending is similar to mine. You, you, you, I laughed and accused them, but I didn’t expect that beauty would just pass by. I looked at the longing faces and said angrily, look at what I am doing. If you want happiness, chase it boldly. A brave struggle. Losers will always be losers. Do you think of mercy? What can you get in exchange for mercy? I laughed loudly, but I was not happy.

Feeling much more relaxed, I lay quietly on the bed without realizing it. Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 7

No one can understand the inner contradictions of others, and material and spiritual satisfaction cannot coexist.

If you are often addicted to material satisfaction, you will lose your perception of the spiritual world. After one year of college, I got used to walking in the dark and forgot to be a human being in the daylight. Call home, say comforting words, and give them spiritual comfort. I will make countless phone calls to a certain girl, but I don’t want to answer the call from home. I will walk through several busy streets in order to give my loved one a birthday gift, but I will not think of my parents who are eating steamed buns at home. What happened to us? What happened to our parents? I will blame myself for a long time, and I will cry alone in a dark corner. I looked in the mirror in the morning and saw the streaks of tears. I washed my face and continued to mess around carelessly and waste food.

I haven’t been to the library for a long time! Twenty-four hours a day, you are awake only when you sleep, and you are full of passion only when you are dreaming. In the morning, you still wash your face, wash away dreams, wash away life, and go to death.

The alarm clock I had set for a long time rang for a long time, and I fell asleep for a long time. The promised hard work and the promised hard work can be turned off with just a button. I have read a lot of books, read a lot of love, and written a lot about love. It’s just that sometimes we forget family ties, forget friendship, forget that we should have passion, and forget the vow to work hard for a beautiful life.

Have a heart-to-heart talk with yourself, write a letter to yourself, and tell yourself that you must have a dream and learn to work hard. One night, in the dark night, I was reading the words I wrote, and the mobile phone next to me rang. I once thought that I had looked down on life, thought that I was detached, and thought that I was extraordinary. Some students complained that the school was too small, but I said that I could just leave it to myself.

I said it but didn't do it. I measured the school and the year that I have passed. Looking back in the silent darkness, the road I have walked has no outline, and what is faintly flashing under the streetlight in front of me will be the road in the future? Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 8

I am used to indifference and loneliness. The only thing I am not used to is that there is always tenderness in my heart, which often grows in the dark night and spreads in my sleep.

I wish I could forget everything at this moment and just be an ordinary woman, listening to ordinary songs and doing ordinary things, with no hope in my heart and no inexplicable sadness in my eyes!

I always think that there are too many unknowns, so I live cautiously and seem to be a bit cowardly. Is it because I worry too much or am I too afraid of losing?

I like sad songs, listening to other people’s stories, and keeping my own tears. I like warm words, reading other people's thoughts and warming my own heart.

I got used to reminiscing, but only later did I realize: Every memory records some of my life feelings. If you don’t forget it, it’s not because of a certain person, but because of the helplessness left by that memory, maybe because of it. Care too much about those feelings, or care too much about those original touches. When all these disappear, what you desperately want to catch is not the footsteps that are getting further away, but the first feeling!

There are so many reasons to reject your own feelings, and so many memories tearing at your heart. How difficult it is to forget. Is it because I have fallen into this vicious circle, or is it because I want to find something for the past? The reason for remembering?

When a familiar song played, I felt indescribably moved in my heart, and my tears actually fell gently. It turns out that we once listened to it together, and those days of listening to the song were my most beautiful memories!

Just staring at the computer in silence, letting the memories spread in my heart, how much bitterness, how much joy, everything in the past is still so clear, but it feels so far away, and I want to live a free and easy life, too I want to learn to let go, but it’s so difficult to do it!

Can a glass of wine really relieve a thousand worries? Can a dream really last forever? Although I have warned myself countless times, even though I have buried so many memories, you are in every memory. If I could choose again, I would rather not meet you, because such an encounter would make me dependent, and I know that I don’t have this. Rights, in the end, disappeared without a trace like a passing cloud. Will I still get used to living without you? Lyrical and Sad Prose Part 9

Time is always overbearing and wants to crush everything, but the lingering thoughts cannot dissipate. I don’t know when, but I like to place my mood on these scattered words. Pieces of words floating in this narrow space! Sit quietly and listen to a melancholy plum-blossom three-parallel piece. The notes without reservation touch the kind soul inadvertently! Search in the sea of ????people, looking for the fulcrum that belongs to the soul. The arduous pursuit, but it is a pity that God did not fulfill his wish and he was lost in the vast vastness! The loneliness is fleeting. In this winter, the sadness of the previous season is still continuing. At the end of the gaze, can you resolve my longing with a look back? The wind opened its mouth and blew away pieces of white clouds. The crystal petals flying all over the sky, whirling, fell into the farmhouse, threw themselves into the fields, whitened the earth, and instantly dressed the mountains and rivers in plain clothes.

The wind entangled the leaves, and the leaves began to fall. After falling, the whole imagination was barren, ups and downs, ups and downs, giving up the pursuit of time. A different kind of beauty, a different kind of feeling, I can't bear to step on it, for fear of waking up the whiteness of my dream. However, we said goodbye to each other from now on. In the sad winter and the fleeting years, time will not stop for us, so let me gently let go of my attachment to you, no longer look back, and bravely move forward. The romance of holding hands is full of fairy tale illusion, and even if they are silent, they can understand each other's heartache. All things in the world are just lonely in the eyes of this lost man! I touched its petals carefully, but they still melted silently, like tears falling from my hands. I have a soft spot for the cold, but I don’t love the warmth in my hands. She decorates the bleak winter with gentleness, and covers the earth with a white wedding dress with attachment. This is a lonely elf. I like it, but I can’t embrace it.

Winter.

It came quietly and coldly, stirring up the loneliness and the sadness of the past. Sometimes, I just want a moment of peace, but I can't even get this little wish. It has become a luxury wish! Turned into broken dreams that cannot be pieced together. I store you in cold water and put you in a place that will never dry out. In Wuhui's interpretation, it's like a beautiful relationship comes on stage, adding a touch of rhythm to the night, but it makes the night black! A romantic ballad, but it makes people deeply obsessed with it! Until one day, you and I sleep between heaven and earth, and you belong to me, then we will truly invest in nature. The cold winter with snow will not be so lonely and cold. Listen, whoever sings softly in dreams, the mortal world has its own infatuated people, the most ecstatic ones are the Three Plum Blossoms! Nights in late winter are always so desolate, and all kinds of memories in my heart will appear on such nights. The coming of night is somewhat sad, because too much time is slowly passing by.

Outside the window, there is a vast mist, and the city is shrouded in depression, unable to conceal the vicissitudes of life after its prosperity. I wrote a lot about my own sadness, so I drowned myself in a sea of ??tears. Every look and every movement was so sad. I was waiting for the long-awaited relief, but I didn't have the courage to let go of the unbearable past. It's still winter now, and there are still snowflakes outside the window. But happiness never ends, and our friendship will always be so full of warmth. While everyone was immersed in the joy of greeting the snow elves, the cold wind blew in from the window, messing up my hair and cooling my heart.

Tonight, I am drunk, drunk in this long street of dark night, drunk in this sky full of snow, the flying snow in the sky is just like me, dancing alone in this night. How many times have we been silent in the memories of the past, unable to extricate ourselves, hurt, and tired. Only in the end did we realize that love is like the distant spring, quietly lost while waiting for the coming of winter. I know that at this time, I am intoxicated and beautiful! Tonight, I am drunk, drunk on this winter night of missing you, drunk on the days when you left. The cold north wind is just like you. In such a night, it stings mercilessly. I know that at this time, I It’s intoxicatingly beautiful! Tonight, I am drunk. I am drunk on a cold winter night with falling snowflakes. I have no one to accompany me. I know that I am the most intoxicated and beautiful when I am drunk.