My Father's House

This is my father's house, although
The man died thirteen years ago.
They said it would be quite all right
To take a drive to see it now.

Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
And built the whole thing (from a box),
Toiling after each full day's work.
I helped, though I was only six.

Look, here's the back door I would use
And here's where I'd remove my shoes
To enter; there I'd leave my things
And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.

In this room I'd wash many a dish,
Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
To be so many other places.
(Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)

Outside, the garden that he grew
Where I would work the summers through,
While watching my friends run and play
Mysterious games I never knew.

That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
The one chair I was let to sit?
(For boys can be such filthy things.)
Which, the corner where boys were put?

Oh ... down that hall there is a room
Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
After the meal, to make no noise,
To read or play alone, and then

Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
Face and pyjama bottoms down
As for my father's belt I'd wait.

Oh, if I were a millionaire
I'd buy my father's house, and there
I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
Its flames would light up all the air.

~~
George J. Dance
from Logos and other logoi, 2021

George J. Dance wrote:
>
> My Father's House

> This is my father's house, although
> The man died thirteen years ago.
> They said it would be quite all right
> To take a drive to see it now.

> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> And built the whole thing (from a box),
> Toiling after each full day's work.
> I helped, though I was only six.

> Look, here's the back door I would use
> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> To enter; there I'd leave my things
> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.

> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> To be so many other places.
> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)

> Outside, the garden that he grew
> Where I would work the summers through,
> While watching my friends run and play
> Mysterious games I never knew.

> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> The one chair I was let to sit?
> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> Which, the corner where boys were put?

> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> After the meal, to make no noise,
> To read or play alone, and then

> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> Face and pyjama bottoms down
> As for my father's belt I'd wait.

> Oh, if I were a millionaire
> I'd buy my father's house, and there
> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> Its flames would light up all the air.

> ~~
> George J. Dance
> from Logos and other logoi, 2021

Quite an excellent poem, G.D.

General-Zod wrote:

> George J. Dance wrote:
>>
>> My Father's House

>> This is my father's house, although
>> The man died thirteen years ago.
>> They said it would be quite all right
>> To take a drive to see it now.

>> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>> And built the whole thing (from a box),
>> Toiling after each full day's work.
>> I helped, though I was only six.

>> Look, here's the back door I would use
>> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>> To enter; there I'd leave my things
>> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.

>> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>> To be so many other places.
>> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)

>> Outside, the garden that he grew
>> Where I would work the summers through,
>> While watching my friends run and play
>> Mysterious games I never knew.

>> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>> The one chair I was let to sit?
>> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>> Which, the corner where boys were put?

>> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>> After the meal, to make no noise,
>> To read or play alone, and then

>> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>> Face and pyjama bottoms down
>> As for my father's belt I'd wait.

>> Oh, if I were a millionaire
>> I'd buy my father's house, and there
>> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>> Its flames would light up all the air.

>> ~~
>> George J. Dance
>> from Logos and other logoi, 2021

> Quite an excellent poem, G.D.

Agreed and seconded.

;)

On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>
> My Father's House
>
> This is my father's house, although
> The man died thirteen years ago.
> They said it would be quite all right
> To take a drive to see it now.
>
> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> And built the whole thing (from a box),
> Toiling after each full day's work.
> I helped, though I was only six.
>
> Look, here's the back door I would use
> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> To enter; there I'd leave my things
> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>
> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> To be so many other places.
> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>
> Outside, the garden that he grew
> Where I would work the summers through,
> While watching my friends run and play
> Mysterious games I never knew.
>
> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> The one chair I was let to sit?
> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> Which, the corner where boys were put?
>
> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> After the meal, to make no noise,
> To read or play alone, and then
>
> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> Face and pyjama bottoms down
> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>
> Oh, if I were a millionaire
> I'd buy my father's house, and there
> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> Its flames would light up all the air.
>
> ~~
> George J. Dance
> from Logos and other logoi, 2021

Read twice, outstanding work of poetry....!

On 2022-11-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>>
>> My Father's House
>>
>> This is my father's house, although
>> The man died thirteen years ago.
>> They said it would be quite all right
>> To take a drive to see it now.
>>
>> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>> And built the whole thing (from a box),
>> Toiling after each full day's work.
>> I helped, though I was only six.
>>
>> Look, here's the back door I would use
>> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>> To enter; there I'd leave my things
>> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>>
>> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>> To be so many other places.
>> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>>
>> Outside, the garden that he grew
>> Where I would work the summers through,
>> While watching my friends run and play
>> Mysterious games I never knew.
>>
>> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>> The one chair I was let to sit?
>> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>> Which, the corner where boys were put?
>>
>> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>> After the meal, to make no noise,
>> To read or play alone, and then
>>
>> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>> Face and pyjama bottoms down
>> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>>
>> Oh, if I were a millionaire
>> I'd buy my father's house, and there
>> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>> Its flames would light up all the air.
>>
>> ~~
>> George J. Dance
>> from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>
> Read twice, outstanding work of poetry....!

Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.

The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
over a decade makes that much clearer.

As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
but I wanted to keep that hidden.

George J. Dance wrote:

> On 2022-11-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
>> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>>>
>>> My Father's House
>>>
>>> This is my father's house, although
>>> The man died thirteen years ago.
>>> They said it would be quite all right
>>> To take a drive to see it now.
>>>
>>> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>>> And built the whole thing (from a box),
>>> Toiling after each full day's work.
>>> I helped, though I was only six.
>>>
>>> Look, here's the back door I would use
>>> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>>> To enter; there I'd leave my things
>>> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>>>
>>> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>>> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>>> To be so many other places.
>>> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>>>
>>> Outside, the garden that he grew
>>> Where I would work the summers through,
>>> While watching my friends run and play
>>> Mysterious games I never knew.
>>>
>>> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>>> The one chair I was let to sit?
>>> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>>> Which, the corner where boys were put?
>>>
>>> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>>> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>>> After the meal, to make no noise,
>>> To read or play alone, and then
>>>
>>> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>>> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>>> Face and pyjama bottoms down
>>> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>>>
>>> Oh, if I were a millionaire
>>> I'd buy my father's house, and there
>>> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>>> Its flames would light up all the air.
>>>
>>> ~~
>>> George J. Dance
>>> from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>>
>> Read twice, outstanding work of poetry....!

> Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
> but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.

> The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
> one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
> complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
> speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
> is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
> over a decade makes that much clearer.

> As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
> plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
> house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
> It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
> was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
> but I wanted to keep that hidden.

I remember what must have been early versions of this poem.

On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 6:48:40 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> On 2022-11-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
> > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> >>
> >> My Father's House
> >>
> >> This is my father's house, although
> >> The man died thirteen years ago.
> >> They said it would be quite all right
> >> To take a drive to see it now.
> >>
> >> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> >> And built the whole thing (from a box),
> >> Toiling after each full day's work.
> >> I helped, though I was only six.
> >>
> >> Look, here's the back door I would use
> >> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> >> To enter; there I'd leave my things
> >> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> >>
> >> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> >> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> >> To be so many other places.
> >> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> >>
> >> Outside, the garden that he grew
> >> Where I would work the summers through,
> >> While watching my friends run and play
> >> Mysterious games I never knew.
> >>
> >> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> >> The one chair I was let to sit?
> >> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> >> Which, the corner where boys were put?
> >>
> >> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> >> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> >> After the meal, to make no noise,
> >> To read or play alone, and then
> >>
> >> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> >> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> >> Face and pyjama bottoms down
> >> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> >>
> >> Oh, if I were a millionaire
> >> I'd buy my father's house, and there
> >> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> >> Its flames would light up all the air.
> >>
> >> ~~
> >> George J. Dance
> >> from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> >
> > Read twice, outstanding work of poetry....!
> Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
> but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.
>
> The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
> one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
> complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
> speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
> is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
> over a decade makes that much clearer.
>
> As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
> plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
> house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
> It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
> was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
> but I wanted to keep that hidden.

Possessive pronouns can be confusing,
like the one in the title you are using.
When you say something is yours, of course
people will tend to think you mean it’s yours.

On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> My Father's House
>
> This is my father's house, although
> The man died thirteen years ago.
> They said it would be quite all right
> To take a drive to see it now.
>
> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> And built the whole thing (from a box),
> Toiling after each full day's work.
> I helped, though I was only six.
>
> Look, here's the back door I would use
> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> To enter; there I'd leave my things
> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>
> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> To be so many other places.
> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>
> Outside, the garden that he grew
> Where I would work the summers through,
> While watching my friends run and play
> Mysterious games I never knew.
>
> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> The one chair I was let to sit?
> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> Which, the corner where boys were put?
>
> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> After the meal, to make no noise,
> To read or play alone, and then
>
> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> Face and pyjama bottoms down
> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>
> Oh, if I were a millionaire
> I'd buy my father's house, and there
> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> Its flames would light up all the air.
>
> ~~
> George J. Dance
> from Logos and other logoi, 2021

Okay, so the poem tells a story of remembered abuse.
The extent to which the story in the poem reflects the
true story of your life and memory is fundamentally
irrelevant to the reader except to the extent that your
life experience informs your ability to write emotionally
convincing stories that are of interest to other people.
When you say “My” father’s house, “By” George J. Dance,
people are going to think you’re talking about yourself.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 6:39:31 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > My Father's House
> >
> > This is my father's house, although
> > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > They said it would be quite all right
> > To take a drive to see it now.
> >
> > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > I helped, though I was only six.
> >
> > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> >
> > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > To be so many other places.
> > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> >
> > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > Where I would work the summers through,
> > While watching my friends run and play
> > Mysterious games I never knew.
> >
> > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> >
> > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > To read or play alone, and then
> >
> > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> >
> > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > Its flames would light up all the air.
> >
> > ~~
> > George J. Dance
> > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> Okay, so the poem tells a story of remembered abuse.
> The extent to which the story in the poem reflects the
> true story of your life and memory is fundamentally
> irrelevant to the reader except to the extent that your
> life experience informs your ability to write emotionally
> convincing stories that are of interest to other people.
> When you say “My” father’s house, “By” George J. Dance,
> people are going to think you’re talking about yourself.

Therefore, “my” recommendation is to change the title of “your” poem from
“My Father’s House” to “Our Father’s House”, and all of the relevant pronouns
from singular to plural possessive. “Our” Father’s House allows “you” to represent
and speak for “your” kin, those who identify with the speaker, and also provides a
subtle religious connotation, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”, that “My” does not.

Lose the parentheses.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:09:01 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 6:39:31 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > > My Father's House
> > >
> > > This is my father's house, although
> > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > >
> > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > >
> > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > >
> > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > To be so many other places.
> > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > >
> > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > >
> > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > >
> > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > To read or play alone, and then
> > >
> > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > >
> > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > >
> > > ~~
> > > George J. Dance
> > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > Okay, so the poem tells a story of remembered abuse.
> > The extent to which the story in the poem reflects the
> > true story of your life and memory is fundamentally
> > irrelevant to the reader except to the extent that your
> > life experience informs your ability to write emotionally
> > convincing stories that are of interest to other people.
> > When you say “My” father’s house, “By” George J. Dance,
> > people are going to think you’re talking about yourself.
> Therefore, “my” recommendation is to change the title of “your” poem from
> “My Father’s House” to “Our Father’s House”, and all of the relevant pronouns
> from singular to plural possessive. “Our” Father’s House allows “you” to represent
> and speak for “your” kin, those who identify with the speaker, and also provides a
> subtle religious connotation, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”, that “My” does not.
>
> Lose the parentheses.

The title that you suggest, "Our Father’s House", could be read as an allusion to the Lord's Prayer, and would add another layer of meaning to George’s poem.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:23:34 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:09:01 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 6:39:31 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > > > My Father's House
> > > >
> > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > >
> > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > >
> > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > >
> > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > >
> > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > >
> > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > >
> > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > >
> > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > >
> > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > >
> > > > ~~
> > > > George J. Dance
> > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > > Okay, so the poem tells a story of remembered abuse.
> > > The extent to which the story in the poem reflects the
> > > true story of your life and memory is fundamentally
> > > irrelevant to the reader except to the extent that your
> > > life experience informs your ability to write emotionally
> > > convincing stories that are of interest to other people.
> > > When you say “My” father’s house, “By” George J. Dance,
> > > people are going to think you’re talking about yourself.
> > Therefore, “my” recommendation is to change the title of “your” poem from
> > “My Father’s House” to “Our Father’s House”, and all of the relevant pronouns
> > from singular to plural possessive. “Our” Father’s House allows “you” to represent
> > and speak for “your” kin, those who identify with the speaker, and also provides a
> > subtle religious connotation, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”, that “My” does not.
> >
> > Lose the parentheses.
> The title that you suggest, "Our Father’s House", could be read as an allusion to the Lord's Prayer, and would add another layer of meaning to George’s poem.

Swat I sed, dummyhed.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:25:05 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:23:34 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:09:01 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 6:39:31 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo..ca wrote:
> > > > > My Father's House
> > > > >
> > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > >
> > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > >
> > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > >
> > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > >
> > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > >
> > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > >
> > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > >
> > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > >
> > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > >
> > > > > ~~
> > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > > > Okay, so the poem tells a story of remembered abuse.
> > > > The extent to which the story in the poem reflects the
> > > > true story of your life and memory is fundamentally
> > > > irrelevant to the reader except to the extent that your
> > > > life experience informs your ability to write emotionally
> > > > convincing stories that are of interest to other people.
> > > > When you say “My” father’s house, “By” George J. Dance,
> > > > people are going to think you’re talking about yourself.
> > > Therefore, “my” recommendation is to change the title of “your” poem from
> > > “My Father’s House” to “Our Father’s House”, and all of the relevant pronouns
> > > from singular to plural possessive. “Our” Father’s House allows “you” to represent
> > > and speak for “your” kin, those who identify with the speaker, and also provides a
> > > subtle religious connotation, “Our Father, who art in heaven…”, that “My” does not.
> > >
> > > Lose the parentheses.
> > The title that you suggest, "Our Father’s House", could be read as an allusion to the Lord's Prayer, and would add another layer of meaning to George’s poem.
> Swat I sed, dummyhed.
I don't know how I missed that. I'm giving myself a time out.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 6:18:18 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 6:48:40 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > On 2022-11-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
> > > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > >>
> > >> My Father's House
> > >>
> > >> This is my father's house, although
> > >> The man died thirteen years ago.
> > >> They said it would be quite all right
> > >> To take a drive to see it now.
> > >>
> > >> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > >> And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > >> Toiling after each full day's work.
> > >> I helped, though I was only six.
> > >>
> > >> Look, here's the back door I would use
> > >> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > >> To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > >> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > >>
> > >> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > >> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > >> To be so many other places.
> > >> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > >>
> > >> Outside, the garden that he grew
> > >> Where I would work the summers through,
> > >> While watching my friends run and play
> > >> Mysterious games I never knew.
> > >>
> > >> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > >> The one chair I was let to sit?
> > >> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > >> Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > >>
> > >> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > >> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > >> After the meal, to make no noise,
> > >> To read or play alone, and then
> > >>
> > >> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > >> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > >> Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > >> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > >>
> > >> Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > >> I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > >> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > >> Its flames would light up all the air.
> > >>
> > >> ~~
> > >> George J. Dance
> > >> from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > >
> > > Read twice, outstanding work of poetry....!
> > Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
> > but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.
> >
> > The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
> > one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
> > complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
> > speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
> > is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
> > over a decade makes that much clearer.
> >
> > As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
> > plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
> > house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
> > It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
> > was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
> > but I wanted to keep that hidden.
> Possessive pronouns can be confusing,
> like the one in the title you are using.
> When you say something is yours, of course
> people will tend to think you mean it’s yours.

People often make that mistake, yes.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 8:45:41 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 6:18:18 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 6:48:40 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > > On 2022-11-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
> > > > On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:49:07 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo..ca wrote:
> > > >>
> > > >> My Father's House
> > > >>
> > > >> This is my father's house, although
> > > >> The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > >> They said it would be quite all right
> > > >> To take a drive to see it now.
> > > >>
> > > >> Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > >> And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > >> Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > >> I helped, though I was only six.
> > > >>
> > > >> Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > >> And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > >> To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > >> And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > >>
> > > >> In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > >> Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > >> To be so many other places.
> > > >> (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > >>
> > > >> Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > >> Where I would work the summers through,
> > > >> While watching my friends run and play
> > > >> Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > >>
> > > >> That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > >> The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > >> (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > >> Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > >>
> > > >> Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > >> Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > >> After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > >> To read or play alone, and then
> > > >>
> > > >> Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > >> Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > >> Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > >> As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > >>
> > > >> Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > >> I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > >> I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > >> Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > >>
> > > >> ~~
> > > >> George J. Dance
> > > >> from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > > >
> > > > Read twice, outstanding work of poetry....!
> > > Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
> > > but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.
> > >
> > > The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
> > > one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
> > > complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
> > > speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
> > > is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
> > > over a decade makes that much clearer.
> > >
> > > As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
> > > plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
> > > house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
> > > It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
> > > was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
> > > but I wanted to keep that hidden.
> > Possessive pronouns can be confusing,
> > like the one in the title you are using.
> > When you say something is yours, of course
> > people will tend to think you mean it’s yours.
> People often make that mistake, yes.

I’m sorry, what mistake are you talking about?
Please explain, so that there is no doubt.
People are quite possessive creatures.
That’s one of their more prominent features.

The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.

I don't think I have to repeat it.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
>
> I don't think I have to repeat it.

Dangerous anti-semantics should have all of their digits removed. In addition, a complete glossectomy should be performed. An anti-semantic's silence is truly golden.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
>
> I don't think I have to repeat it.

Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>
> > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> >
> > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.

Have a nice day, Corey.

🙂

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > >
> > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> Have a nice day, Corey.
>
> 🙂

Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
I plan to, because that’s just my way,
when someone says to have a nice day,
I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
on a football pitch, far, far away,
and when I say far, I mean Qatar.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:21:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > >
> > > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > > >
> > > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> > Have a nice day, Corey.
> >
> > 🙂
> Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
> I plan to, because that’s just my way,
> when someone says to have a nice day,
> I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
> on a football pitch, far, far away,
> and when I say far, I mean Qatar.
That is where those two teams are.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:21:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > >
> > > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > > >
> > > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> > Have a nice day, Corey.
> >
>
> Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
> I plan to, because that’s just my way,
> when someone says to have a nice day,
> I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
> on a football pitch, far, far away,
> and when I say far, I mean Qatar.

I saw you mention that you are watching the World Cup.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:32:22 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:21:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > >
> > > > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > > > >
> > > > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > > > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> > > Have a nice day, Corey.
> > >
> >
> > Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
> > I plan to, because that’s just my way,
> > when someone says to have a nice day,
> > I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
> > on a football pitch, far, far away,
> > and when I say far, I mean Qatar.
> I saw you mention that you are watching the World Cup.

Go team.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:55:56 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:32:22 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:21:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > >
> > > > > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > > > > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> > > > Have a nice day, Corey.
> > > >
> > >
> > > Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
> > > I plan to, because that’s just my way,
> > > when someone says to have a nice day,
> > > I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
> > > on a football pitch, far, far away,
> > > and when I say far, I mean Qatar.
> > I saw you mention that you are watching the World Cup.
> Go team.

I saw about thirty seconds of the UGA vs Georgia Tech game yesterday, looked like everyone was having fun.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 10:07:46 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:55:56 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:32:22 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:21:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > > > > > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> > > > > Have a nice day, Corey.
> > > > >
> > > >
> > > > Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
> > > > I plan to, because that’s just my way,
> > > > when someone says to have a nice day,
> > > > I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
> > > > on a football pitch, far, far away,
> > > > and when I say far, I mean Qatar.
> > > I saw you mention that you are watching the World Cup.
> > Go team.
> I saw about thirty seconds of the UGA vs Georgia Tech game yesterday, looked like everyone was having fun.

Well, there you go. Go team. Go sports.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 10:12:22 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 10:07:46 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:55:56 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:32:22 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:21:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:16:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:12:17 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 9:06:51 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
> > > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > I don't think I have to repeat it.
> > > > > > > Okay, if you say so. Thanks for your input. Have a nice day. Go team.
> > > > > > Have a nice day, Corey.
> > > > > >
> > > > >
> > > > > Yes, of course. That’s nice of you to say.
> > > > > I plan to, because that’s just my way,
> > > > > when someone says to have a nice day,
> > > > > I do. Right now, I’m watching two teams play
> > > > > on a football pitch, far, far away,
> > > > > and when I say far, I mean Qatar.
> > > > I saw you mention that you are watching the World Cup.
> > > Go team.
> > I saw about thirty seconds of the UGA vs Georgia Tech game yesterday, looked like everyone was having fun.
> Well, there you go. Go team. Go sports.

Spanish Bombs
https://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8