Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey is taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Blessing.
I looked at a page, where you can find rhymes, and the rhyme words for blessing led me astray. Here goes.
Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey skiftes til at opkaste et tema til et mandagsdigt. Dagens tema er velsignelser / fordele / goder / positive ting. Denne gang er det ikke blevet til noget digt på dansk. Det kan være, det kommer senere.
Remember to count all your blessings,
Not your hurts, all your bad times, and fears
Forget all the bad persons messing
with everything you hold dear.
Remember to count all your blessings.
Ev'ry one of them, even the small.
All the babies you've been caressing
even though they're big now and tall.
Remember to count all your blessings!
It is hard, but I'm trying my best
to remember the good, and expressing
the need of forgetting the rest.
Remember to count all your blessings.
You must use all your fingers ... and toes.
If you try, I'm sure, although guessing,
That you will never even get close
Remember to count all your blessings.
Do you really remember them all?
Excuse me if I am digressing.
Most are surely beyond your recall.
Earlier I have been agonizing over Blizzard's lack of writing skills. Today I met up with another example. Darnassus, daily cooking: Remembering the ancestors.
(This screenie is taking with my main (level 114) looking at the Quest - I did not take a
screenie first time around, as I thought it was a straightforward Quest)
As I always do, when meeting a new to me Quest, I read the Quest description carefully before accepting. I went to the Temple of the Moon, got the rice cakes, and then I went back to the trainer. Qua Quest objectives: "Collect the blessed rice cakes from the Temple of the Moon."
He did not want to talk to me. The text reads: "... presenting them to the ancestors". Well yes, I thought that was your job, as it is not part of the objectives. But if I should do that part as well, a pointer to where the ancestors want their cakes would have been much appreciated.
Nothing to it but to open Quest-helper-cum-map.
Oh - there's a golden ❔ up there!
I've never been up there before.Only passing on my way in and out of the Capital.
" ... the shrine the trainer mentioned." Oh, no, he did not mention any shrine.
Does it hurt to write a Quest text in a way that I can do the Quest without having to resort to using Quest-helper?
A new chapter in the continuing story of missing bus timetables and service"improvements".
-- 🚌 --
I går kom så vores lokalavis med dette indlæg fra Movia. Det er meget langt fra den virkelighed, jeg oplever.
Jeg oplever frustrerede og forvirrede passagerer, der spørger en
flink, men fortravlet buschauffør om noget, han ikke kan svare på. De
har nemlig heller ikke køreplaner i bussen! Jeg oplever turister, der
ikke kan forstå, at de er nødt til at downloade "Rejseplanen" for at
finde rundt - og alle turister erå heller ikke bevæbnede med
smartphones; SMS-tjenesterne kræver en dansk mobiludbyder!
oplever børn, der ikke kan finde ud af at relatere stoppestedets
mangelfulde oplysninger til deres mobilers skærme og tilbage til
virkeligheden igen. Jeg oplever folk, der ikke længere bevæger sig uden for
deres vante baner. Ældre, der bliver mere begrænsede, unge, der ikke
tager i byen, let handicappede, der ikke længere tør tage bussen, fordi
de er bange for ikke at kunne klare sig selv.
Det kan godt være at det digitale øjebliksbillede er nok, hvis man
bor i en større by med liveopdaterede skærme ved stoppestederne og ikke
mindst busser hvert 5. minut og natten igennem. Men her ude på landet,
hvor der ofte kun går en bus i timen, og ikke alle busser går hver dag,
har vi brug for faste tider, trykte køreplaner og ordentlig oplysning.
Vi har brug for at vide, om bussen stadig går om 4 timer, om den kører,
når vi vil hjem, om tiderne er anderledes efter 6 om aftenen, eller om
lørdagen, eller et af de mange andre spørgsmål, som kun en trykt
køreplan kan give et let og overskueligt svar på.
Der er bred enighed om at Movia virkelig har gjort i nælderne denne gang.
The prompts for March are provided by Delores at Mumblings. She has been treating us to a slew of rhyming words.
1. despair 2. frizzy hair 3. hot air 4. impair 5. repair 6. midair This was exactly what was needed to bring my writing mojo back again. Thank you.
Once again I wrote a small chapter from my magical autobiography. I did not use the words in the order they were given, neither did I use them in the exact form. But they fit. The story continues almost where it left off last.
Susan was about to despair. The snow was still swirling, whirling and dancing around her. She was suspended mid-air by ice rings, produced by Gilvi's magic and the snow was relentlessly whipping her all over. All her futile spells had only made the ice rings become thigther and more solid and made her hair go frizzy and wild, impairing her vision and adding to the whipping sensations. She was cold, not uncomfortably so, her feeble warming spell saw to that, but she felt the cold from the many small pin points where snowflakes brushed and melted against her skin.
All of a sudden it dawned upon her; She was trying too hard. She relaxed, trying to imagine a small jet of hot air emerging from the tip of her wand, warming her from top to toe, melting the ice rings and letting her free to move again. She looked down through hair and swirling snowflakes, saw green-white swirls beginning to form at the tip of the wand. Smiling she cheered them on, and they grew, caressing her arms, tingeing the swirling snow a gentle green, tickling her just a little bit. And first slowly then faster and faster the ice rings melted. Susan pointed her wand downwards, as she had been told to do, and descended, more like a snowflake dancing and swirling than like a human child.
Susan was comfortably hot now in the snow, she danced with the snowflakes in the meadow, over the fences and into the small copse of rowans near the school. This was snow magic! She had been told not to overdo her first trip, and she softly returned and came to rest near the big bales of straw on the other side of the barn. Some of the apprentices already stood there, only clad in the striped shirts or trousers and green tunics. All had small threads of lightly tinged snowflakes swirling from their wands, encasing them and keeping them warm. It was an eerie and wonderful sight.
She saw a silver-white shower of snow coming at her over the bales, and My, the slim Norwegian girl, softly descended beside her. They smiled at one another, but kept quiet. Shortly after Rósa landed in a shower of golden snowflakes, and in a massive gust of bluish purple snow Terje alighted beside them. He was not the last one. For once Anna was the last. Her reddish snow was the most violently coloured of all, and she looked very tired. Martine expanded her swirls to encompass Anna as well, as her reddish swirls sputtered and died off. "I think you overdid it." Martine said. "Did you not hear Gilvi's warning?" Anna looked embarrassed, but was spared the pain of answering as Gilvi came up to them, pointing his wand at them.
"That was impressing!" Gilvi's voice rang out. "You all did very well. Now get inside, there's hot cocoa and steaming buns for everybody." As an afterthought he added, "And no panic, Helge, I'll repair that fence!" Helge looked at him, rubbing his backside with a lopsided smile.