教室里则沉闷的喘不过气来，仿佛是暴风雨来临前的预兆。“这么简单的题都不会？来佳彬给他讲一下。”老师，打破了这沉静。这道题对于我来说简直是张飞吃豆芽——小菜一碟。但看着老师严肃的眼神，我显得不知所措。我只好语无伦次地讲了起来，讲完后，教室又安静了下来。老师的表情依旧严肃而凝重，我知道我没有讲好。脸也刷的一下红了起来，急忙低下头，试图不让同学和老师发现。本以为会受到老师的批评，我却听到一阵阵抽噎的声音。我抬头看见豆大的泪珠从老师的脸颊滚落下来，我的脑海突然一片空白。此时我活像一尊木雕思想凝滞了，我仿佛听见了泪水滴落在我内心的声音，一股烧灼感也蔓延开来，同学们纷纷上前为老师擦泪。这时候老师说：“想到快毕业了，我就担心你们。”这时下课铃响了，老师走出了教室，我也跑出了教室，找到一个僻静的地方反思自己。

张老师，虽然只有30几岁，但时光仿佛在她身上多加了十年，显得与她年龄不符的沧桑感。老师每天坐着最早的一班车来到学校，又做着最晚的一班车离开，生活的轨迹仅仅在学校家庭之间，两点一线的经年累月的过往，白霜也因此早早的替代了青丝。

突然一股清香扑鼻而来，我回头一看，原来栽种在路旁边的几株马莲，它们寂静无地开着，显得何其平静、淡然。仔细一看，纤细的叶子还托着几朵盛开的花。一阵风吹过，马莲随着风左右摇摆，纤细的叶子显得不堪重负，最终凋落了。只剩下几瓣花的马莲却显得格外光鲜，我走回教室，身边依然飘香。

那是“落红不是无情物，化作春泥更护花”的香；那是“春蚕到死丝方尽，蜡炬成灰泪始干”的香；那是“自闻颖师谈，起坐在一旁”的香；那是“新竹高于旧竹枝，全凭老干为扶持”的香……

花香默默，师爱无声。

无声的作文篇2

母爱是细腻的，而父爱是严肃、刚强的、博大精深的，伟岸如青山;圣洁如冰雪;温暖如娇阳;宽广如江海!父亲从男性的角度，给予孩子坚强，自立，自强，自信，宽容，使孩子能感觉到与母爱不同的爱。父爱同母爱一样伟大，只是父亲表达爱的方式不同而已。

从小我就害怕我的爸爸，但随着年龄的增长，我们都渐渐地开始珍惜我们的友谊，喜欢没事时到别的同学家玩玩。今天是星期天，同学们说要到我家来看看，我一时不好回绝，答应了，但我知道父亲一向十分严肃，肯定会反对我的。我硬着头皮把同学们带了回家，一开门，呀!是爸爸，他一下就看见了我身后的同学，可他没有像我想象中那样生气，笑一笑，说：“呀!来客人了，孙泰然，是你的同学们吧!今天是星期天，你们在我家好好玩玩吧!我正好要出去散步，你们玩吧，桌上有糖和水果，要吃自己拿，别客气!”爸爸转身对我说：“别玩的.太迟，别人家还远着呢!你们玩完后，给我打个电话啊!”我认真的点点头，爸爸便走了。爸爸走了之后，同学们说：“你爸爸挺客气的啊!好像没有你说的那么严肃啊，挺开明的。”于是，同学们在我家玩到了八点多，我就送他们回家了。

他们回家后，我马上给爸爸打了个电话，爸爸回家后，我问他：“爸爸，你为什么不反对我呢?”爸爸摸摸我的头说：”朋友不是不能交往，比如今天是星期天，没什么事情，可以邀请同学来我们家玩玩。其实，爸爸也不是你想象那样死板，爸爸小时候也常邀请朋友来家玩，爷爷也没有反对啊!”我开心的笑了。

父爱其实很简单。它像白酒，辛辣而热烈，让人醉在其中;它像咖啡，苦涩而醇香，容易让人为之振奋;它像茶，平淡而亲切，让人自然清新;它像篝火，给人温暖去却令人生畏，容易让人激奋自己。

父亲的爱，是春天里的一缕阳光，和煦地照耀在我的身上;是夏日里的一丝凉风，吹散了我心中的烦热;是秋日里的一串串硕果，指引着我走向成功;是冬天里的一把火，温暖着我那颗冰冷的心。父亲的爱，无处不在!

无声的作文篇3

父亲！一个有力的词语！他是我们心中威严、稳重、寡言的象征。他的身影永远是支撑我们的寄托。

年轻的时候，并不理解父亲，对那篇据说是朱自清代表作的《背影》也没有什么感触，更喜欢的是《菏塘月色》，《桨声灯影里的秦淮河》，直到上大学之后，当陪伴我到学校的父亲为我安顿好了一切，准备回家的时候，望着远去的父亲的背影，《背影》在心中浮现，终于发现父亲在心中不可取代的地位，一股眼泪也禁不住夺眶而出，这个情景成为心中永远定格的珍贵镜头。

从小父亲就是心中的`参天大树，是有困难时的依靠，不记得自己惹出多少的祸都是父亲出面解决。父爱是润物无声的，当母亲为了自己的作为而絮絮叨叨时，真正拿主意的却是一直在默不做声的父亲。当遇到困难的时候，父亲才能给我最大的安全感。为何父亲是这样的寡言少语？想当年，他也是淘气的捣鬼蛋，也是意气风发的昂扬少年，什么时候他失去了自己的欢乐？莫不是家庭的责任让他感到了生活的艰辛？是无时不念兹在兹的儿子让他顾不上自己的喜怒哀乐？

我们从父亲那里获得了多少？又回报给父亲多少？当看到父亲为自己买给他的第一个生日蛋糕而笑逐颜开时，却有一种愧疚闪现在心头，看到他鬓边的白发，才发现原来自己心中的大树依然挺拔，却已苍老！

无声的作文篇4

在每个人的家中，爱就是表达亲情的一种方式。这种爱就如一碗蛋炒饭，可以在饥饿时能抚慰漉漉饥肠；这也如一张面巾纸，但是能在伤心时能拭干晶莹的泪水；这又如一杯白开水，无味，但在口干时能浇灭炽热的火焰。在我的印象中，爱如一杯热腾腾的牛奶，温暖而又香浓。

事情还是要从那天的下午说起。那一天下午，我们班的班主任因为某个同学喊了声“作业太多了，给我们减点”后，立马拿起一根粉笔把日记改成二篇。可是大家谁也不敢说话，只好哑巴吃黄连—有苦说不出。回到家，那二篇日记如同蚊子嗡嗡直叫一样搔扰着我，仅仅是第一篇就让本来心烦意乱的我写了足足1个小时才完成。而剩余的一篇则是更难了。妈妈坐在我的身旁，无奈地看着我顿脚抓耳，嘴巴似乎扇动了几下，好像要说些什么，但又怕说。时间一分一秒的流逝，天色越来越黑，大脑运作的速度也越来越慢，妈妈看见我如此状态，便想要说句话，可我却不领情，大吼一声“你给我出去，不要来烦我”！妈妈愣了一下，便叹着气走了出去，然后轻轻地关上房门。我的心似乎静了许多，想想刚才的气话，总觉得伤害到妈妈了，这时，妈妈轻轻地推开了房门，手里还端着一杯热乎乎的.牛奶，把它放到桌上后就走了。我看着牛奶，觉得对不起妈妈，并感到惭愧。牛奶香弥漫了整个房间，我小心翼翼地端起了这杯牛奶，唯恐它不小心要洒落到地上。我一口气喝了一大半，顿时感觉大脑里的“雾”被这浓郁的香气和滚烫的热气拨开了，心里不由得升起一丝丝暖意，疲劳、困倦、迷茫、心烦在喝了牛奶的那一刹那消失得不见踪影。于是这杯牛奶成为我写日记的动力。

这就是亲情，亲情也就是爱，在人生的道路上再艰险，它总是永远在你身边相伴，亲情永存。

无声的作文篇5

my father was a self-taught mandolin player. he was one of the best string instrument players in our town. he could not read music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. when he was younger, he was a member of a small country music band. they would play at local dances and on a few occasions would play for the local radio station. he often told us how he had auditioned and earned a position in a band that featured patsy cline as their lead singer. he told the family that after he was hired he never went back. dad was a very religious man. he stated that there was a lot of drinking and cursing the day of his audition and he did not want to be around that type of environment.

occasionally, dad would get out his mandolin and play for the family. we three children: trisha, monte and i, george jr., would often sing along. songs such as the tennessee waltz, harbor lights and around christmas time, the well-known rendition of silver bells. "silver bells, silver bells, its christmas time in the city" would ring throughout the house. one of dads favorite hymns was "the old rugged cross". we learned the words to the hymn when we were very young, and would sing it with dad when he would play and sing. another song that was often shared in our house was a song that accompanied the walt disney series: davey crockett. dad only had to hear the song twice before he learned it well enough to play it. "davey, davey crockett, king of the wild frontier" was a favorite song for the family. he knew we enjoyed the song and the program and would often get out the mandolin after the program was over. i could never get over how he could play the songs so well after only hearing them a few times. i loved to sing, but i never learned how to play the mandolin. this is something i regret to this day.

dad loved to play the mandolin for his family he knew we enjoyed singing, and hearing him play. he was like that. if he could give pleasure to others, he would, especially his family. he was always there, sacrificing his time and efforts to see that his family had enough in their life. i had to mature into a man and have children of my own before i realized how much he had sacrificed.

i joined the united states air force in january of 1962. whenever i would come home on leave, i would ask dad to play the mandolin. nobody played the mandolin like my father. he could touch your soul with the tones that came out of that old mandolin. he seemed to shine when he was playing. you could see his pride in his ability to play so well for his family.

when dad was younger, he worked for his father on the farm. his father was a farmer and sharecropped a farm for the man who owned the property. in 1950, our family moved from the farm. dad had gained employment at the local limestone quarry. when the quarry closed in august of 1957, he had to seek other employment. he worked for owens yacht company in dundalk, maryland and for todd steel in point of rocks, maryland. while working at todd steel, he was involved in an accident. his job was to roll angle iron onto a conveyor so that the welders farther up the production line would have it to complete their job. on this particular day dad got the third index finger of his left hand mashed between two pieces of steel. the doctor who operated on the finger could not save it, and dad ended up having the tip of the finger amputated. he didnt lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, but it did impact his ability to play the mandolin.

after the accident, dad was reluctant to play the mandolin. he felt that he could not play as well as he had before the accident. when i came home on leave and asked him to play he would make excuses for why he couldnt play. eventually, we would wear him down and he would say "okay, but remember, i cant hold down on the strings the way i used to" or "since the accident to this finger i cant play as good". for the family it didnt make any difference that dad couldnt play as well. we were just glad that he would play. when he played the old mandolin it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time in our lives. "davey, davey crockett, king of the wild frontier", would again be heard in the little town of bakerton, west virginia.

in august of 1993 my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. he chose not to receive chemotherapy treatments so that he could live out the rest of his life in dignity. about a week before his death, we asked dad if he would play the mandolin for us. he made excuses but said "okay". he knew it would probably be the last time he would play for us. he tuned up the old mandolin and played a few notes. when i looked around, there was not a dry eye in the family. we saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner strength that comes from knowing god, and living with him in ones life. dad would never play the mandolin for us again. we felt at the time that he wouldnt have enough strength to play, and that makes the memory of that day even stronger. dad was doing something he had done all his life, giving. as sick as he was, he was still pleasing others. dad sure could play that mandolin!

无声的作文篇6

“如果阳光里没有你，我也许早已随风而去；如果期望里没有你，我也许只懂得哭泣……”漫步在幽长的小路上，我的耳畔响起了这首歌。昨天的那一幕幕仿佛刚发生，正清晰地回放着。

学校的月考如期而至，我的烦恼也随之而来。看着那一张张打满大叉的'试卷，我真是有点无地自容，而那鲜红的分数也似乎要刺伤我的眼睛。

我拖着沉重的脚步走向家去。大地屏住呼吸，闷得杨柳拼命的摇摆，发出“沙沙”的嘶鸣；天空屏住呼吸，闷得乌云呻吟着在空中打滚。我也屏住呼吸，等待着一场暴风雨的降临。

和往常一样，大门仍旧开着，屋内仍旧静悄悄的。我走进屋里，不见母亲。我便习惯地来到园地，只见母亲正在劳动。看见我回来了，母亲高兴地说：“快休息一下，我马上就做饭，很快就可以吃饭了。”我有气无力的“嗯”了一声。母亲有点诧异，放下手中的工具，走到我身边关切地问道：“怎么了，是不是哪儿不舒服？”我摇了摇头，不安地低下了头。就在低头的一瞬间，我忽然发现母亲的额头上又多了几条皱纹。我的眼睛湿润了，刚到嘴边的话又咽了下去。母亲连忙替我擦干了眼泪，问：“是不是考试没考好啊？”我点了点头。

母亲沉默了一会儿，轻声说道：“算了，不要再伤心了。亡羊补牢，为时未晚。努力吧！我相信你！”说完，用一种柔和的目光看着我，很久很久。在与母亲四目相对的那一瞬间，我懂了，懂得了母亲目光里的期待与辛酸，一切尽在不言中。我知道母爱不需要太多的语言。

母亲啊，我什么时候才能让您不再为我操心呀？什么时候才能让你的付出有所回报呢？我愿成为一朵白云，为母亲在炎热中遮一片阴凉；我愿成为一朵鲜花，为母亲送去阵阵清香；我愿成为一缕春风，为母亲拂去一身跋涉的风尘。

无声的作文篇7

“好雨知时节，当春乃发生。随风潜入夜，润物细无声。”关于春雨的众多描写中，我独爱杜甫的这首诗，他尤其好过“春雨贵如油”的那句民谚。那“无声”的“润物”远比“贵如油”的吝啬要可爱的多。

我住的城市似乎是没有春季的，冬季之后，几场大风几场雨，长衫便换成了夏衣，我想那几场雨也便是这城市的春雨了吧。尽管不那么分明，绵绵细雨之后，干枯的枝头上绿衣盎然，一阵微风吹过，卷曲的嫩芽便舒展开曼妙的身姿。大自然就是这样悄悄地把春天带给了我们，而他的使者，便是这无声的春雨。

其实，春天的元素不只春雨，还有春风和春雷。春风总是那样的狂躁，扬起漫天尘土迷入你前行的.双眼，卷起细小的沙砾打在脸上丝丝疼痛。而春雷又总是那么的张扬，只要自己出现，就要努力提醒人们他的存在，而他所能做的却也只是雨中的狂吼。

在这春天的三个元素中，我想春雨无疑是我的最爱。他的轻柔，如朋友一样伴你左右却未曾忍心打扰你的世界；他的滋养，如亲人一样给予你的从未考虑回报；他的奉献，如老师一样，照亮你前行之路，哪怕你留下的只是渐行渐远的背影……

我爱这春天的雨啊！爱他那颗感恩的心，来源于地表，腾空之后却依然从高空落下；爱他那颗谦卑的心，摔碎自己，融入泥土却默不作声。他从不扰人清梦，也不矫揉造作，雨夜之后，你猛地拉开窗帘，他留给你的也只是树叶上那一颗折射这晨光的露珠。

外面的春雨依旧绵软的下个不停，春雨中这城市夜幕下的浮华也卸下了原有的戾气，我索性丢掉手中的雨伞，融入这春雨之中，而这一刻，我那颗躁动的心也安静了下来……

无声的作文篇8

母爱无声、无痕。点点泪丝从笔尖滑出……

以前，我总是觉得别人的孩子为什么那么幸福，而我却哪么命苦，总是觉得别的母亲很疼爱她的孩子，而我的母亲却从没有疼爱过我。直到我读中学后才明白母爱是无声的。

因为在一次放学，下着哗哗大雨，而我却没有带伞，眼看着别的孩子都被自己的母亲接走了，只有我却一个人独自坐在校门的木椅上，眼眶里布满了泪水，多么渴望有人来接我回家啊！我抬头望着看不到头的马路，大雨倾盆，哗哗地下着，失望的我却是哪么可怜。不久，我看见马路远处有一个隐隐约约的身影向这边跑来，穿着一件破旧的衣服，一双解放鞋已经破旧了，她越走越近，我伸出头看去，没有想到她就是我的母亲。我大喊着投入母亲的怀抱中，泪水一滴一滴往下流，尽管雨水是那么冰冷，但这时我一点也感觉不到雨水的存在，已经没有知觉的我紧紧地抱着母亲已经湿透了的身子，母亲安慰我说“孩子，对不起，我有事耽误了，所以来迟了。”我流着眼泪摇摇头，心里有着说不出的感觉。

一路上，母亲只顾着为我打伞，却忘了自己，回到家后母亲全身都湿透了，雨水一滴滴的往下流，这时候我才发现母亲的脸颊瘦如削，苍白失色。她寂然的眼神好像黑暗中恍恍的火苗，这时我才明白，原来我一直不懂她。

我的母亲，她的爱如那绵绵略有暧意的春雨，柔柔的让人不易触摸不到。

母爱无声，无痕。那是因为它的点滴都有被母亲藏到了平凡里。今天，一个女儿在这里书写着那无声的母爱。

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