My firs thought was about the Prayer of Serenity we often see on wall mottos and such. It’s a terse but profound statement: if we could just accept some things that can’t be changed, then get with it and change thing we know we could change — how much better this old world would be! And then the crowning touch: the WISDOM to know the difference!
But my response will be this homey little verse by Edgar Guest. For those of us who’ve crossed the bridge into ‘Seniors’, I think this illustrates serenity very nicely:
I won't let Block-Ed frustrate me
I'll practice 'til I'm proficient
So here's a bit of poetry
to see if I've learned sufficient...
I see that Sheryl at Your Daily Word Prompt
is having her trials switching to the new Block editor,
too. Her word for today is FRUSTRATE.
Conclusions: Selecting the Verse block and writing poetry works better with this editor, since single line spacing is automatic; I don’t have to hit Shift + Enter to get that, like I would otherwise. On the other hand, I now have to count Categories & Tags to be sure I don’t exceed the WordPress limit of fifteen. And poetry is automatically italicized.
PS: Now that this is posted I see I’m not so proficient after all! 😦 Now, how to fix it!
Today’s Ragtag Daily Prompt word is FERNWEH, which apparently means a longing for far-away places, or wanderlust.
Once upon a time, when we were younger, we did travel some — though never to anyplace all that exotic. We’ve visited or lived in almost every province and visited friends in a number of eastern states. But our wandering days are over now. Our own office is our comfortable work space and our own pillows feel the best. I don’t even like going away from home on dark winter nights, so I know where Edgar Guest was coming from when he wrote this verse:
No Place to Go
The happiest nights I ever know are those when I’ve no place to go, and the missus sayswhen the day is through, “Tonight we haven’t a thing to do.
Oh, the joy of it– and the peace untold of sitting ‘round in my slippers old, with my pipe and book in my easy chair, knowing I needn’t go anywhere.
Needn’t hurry my evening meal nor force the smiles I do not feel, but can grab a bookfrom a nearby shelf, drop all sham and be myself.
Oh, the charm of it and the comfort rare; nothing on earth that can compare! And I’m sorry for him who doesn’t know the joy of having no place to go.
The little house is not too small
to shelter friends who come to call.
Though low the roof and small its space
it holds the Lord’s abounding grace
and every simple room may be
endowed with happy memory.
The little house, severely plain,
a wealth of beauty may contain.
Within it those who dwell may find
high faith which makes for peace of mind
and that sweet understanding which
can make the poorest cottage rich.
The little house can hold all things
from which the soul’s contentment springs.
It’s not too small for love to grow,
for all the joys that mortals know,
for mirth and song and that delight
which makes the humblest dwelling bright.
For my response I’ll give you the first two verses of this four-verse epic by Edgar Guest.
NOTHING TO LAUGH AT
‘Taint nothin’ to laugh at as I can see!
If you’d been stung by a bumble bee
an’ your nose was swelled an’ it smarted, too,
you wouldn’t want people to laugh at you.
If you had a lump that was full of fire,
like you’d been touched by a red hot wire
an’ your nose spread out like a load of hay,
you wouldn’t want strangers who come your way
to ask you to let the see the place
an’ laugh at you right before your face.
What’s funny about it, I’d like to know?
It isn’t a joke to be hurted so!
An’ how was I ever on earth to tell
that the pretty flower which I stooped to smell
in our backyard was the very one
which a bee was busily working on?
An’ just as I got my nose down there
he lifted his foot an’ kicked for fair,
an’ he planted his stinger right into me
But it’s nothin’ to laugh at as I can see.