On Monday, December 5, 2022 at 6:06:34 AM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> On 2022-12-04 3:41 p.m., Zod wrote:
> > George 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.
> >
> > Cool... cool...
> It's interesting; writing the first draft (which is most of the finished
> poem) took 15 or 20 minutes; but I've made little tweaks that improved
> it. One I thought of tonight, when I reread it, was how one person,
> Karla I think, complained about two uses of "oh" in the last stanza,
> which she said were just padding to fit the meter. Dennis Hammes advised
> me to add "oh" in some earlier stanzas, which would make it "voice" - so
> I did. I do have to agree that Dennis was right. The interjections don't
> stick out at all; after hearing the speaker talk like that throughout
> the poem, the reader can just accept them as how he talks.

Yes, it's written "in character".

On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 7:23:43 AM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> On 2022-11-30 5:51 p.m., Will Dockery wrote:
> > On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 9:08:25 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> >> On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 8:30:05 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >>> On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 8:25:12 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com 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.
> >>>>>>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>>>> Thanks for giving it so much thought and effort. I have to acknowledge
> >>>>>>>>>>>> that.
> >>>>>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>>>> Pluralizing all the pronouns would change the poem considerably, but one
> >>>>>>>>>>>> thing it wouldn't change is the confusion you mentioned. If someone
> >>>>>>>>>>>> thought this was a poem about my own father and childhood because it was
> >>>>>>>>>>>> titled "My Father's House," they'd be just as likely to think that if it
> >>>>>>>>>>>> were titled "Our Father's House".
> >>>>>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>>>> Except, of course, for that religious connotation; some might think it
> >>>>>>>>>>>> was a poem about God. But it's not a poem about God, and that's an
> >>>>>>>>>>>> interpretation I wouldn't want to encourage.
> >>>>>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>>>>> Lose the parentheses.
> >>>>>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>>>> I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.
> >>>>>>>>>>> Exactly, you are the best judge of how your poem should be presented......
> >>>>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>>>> Words of wisdom from a man who chooses to live
> >>>>>>>>> Key word being "chooses".
> >>>>>>>
> >>>>>>>> Correct. The key word is "chooses"
> >>>>>>> And, as we all know, Zod chose the path of the Dharma Bum.
> >>>>>>>
> >>>>>>
> >>>>>> Do you really believe that a person who was truly following what you call "the "path of the Dharma Bum" would send a minute of their time and energy in a place like aapc?
> >>>>> Jack Kerouac, maybe, probably not Gary Snyder.
> >>>> Discovering that his most well known book spawned acolytes like you and Zod is the main reason why Jack Kerouac drank himself to death.
> >>> Not really.
> >>>
> >>> Jack Kerouac was a hard drinker long before he became famous.
> >>>
> >>> Look it up.
> >> I don't have to look it up, Will.
> >> My best friend's parents bought Kerouac's Northport house from Kerouac himself and he's a Kerouac scholar. He met Kerouac, has an unpublished Kerouac manuscript that he found in the house. He and I have spent many hours discussing Kerouac's life and work. Kerouac drank himself to death because of people like you.
> >
> > No, not really, Robert.
> >
> > Your judgement of me is /not/ me, only your biased opinion of me.
> >
> Oh, but Will ... Bobby Burro has a "friend". And the friend
> coincidentally just happens to be a "Kerouac scholar". Are you refusing
> to accept the judgement of "Kerouac scholar"?

On Monday, December 12, 2022 at 7:59:58 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 7:23:43 AM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> > On 2022-11-30 5:51 p.m., Will Dockery wrote:
> > > On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 9:08:25 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> > >> On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 8:30:05 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > >>> On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 8:25:12 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail..com 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.
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> Thanks for giving it so much thought and effort. I have to acknowledge
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> that.
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> Pluralizing all the pronouns would change the poem considerably, but one
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> thing it wouldn't change is the confusion you mentioned. If someone
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> thought this was a poem about my own father and childhood because it was
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> titled "My Father's House," they'd be just as likely to think that if it
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> were titled "Our Father's House".
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> Except, of course, for that religious connotation; some might think it
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> was a poem about God. But it's not a poem about God, and that's an
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> interpretation I wouldn't want to encourage.
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>> Lose the parentheses.
> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>>>> I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.
> > >>>>>>>>>>> Exactly, you are the best judge of how your poem should be presented......
> > >>>>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>>>> Words of wisdom from a man who chooses to live
> > >>>>>>>>> Key word being "chooses".
> > >>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>>> Correct. The key word is "chooses"
> > >>>>>>> And, as we all know, Zod chose the path of the Dharma Bum.
> > >>>>>>>
> > >>>>>>
> > >>>>>> Do you really believe that a person who was truly following what you call "the "path of the Dharma Bum" would send a minute of their time and energy in a place like aapc?
> > >>>>> Jack Kerouac, maybe, probably not Gary Snyder.
> > >>>> Discovering that his most well known book spawned acolytes like you and Zod is the main reason why Jack Kerouac drank himself to death.
> > >>> Not really.
> > >>>
> > >>> Jack Kerouac was a hard drinker long before he became famous.
> > >>>
> > >>> Look it up.
> > >> I don't have to look it up, Will.
> > >> My best friend's parents bought Kerouac's Northport house from Kerouac himself and he's a Kerouac scholar. He met Kerouac, has an unpublished Kerouac manuscript that he found in the house. He and I have spent many hours discussing Kerouac's life and work. Kerouac drank himself to death because of people like you.
> > >
> > > No, not really, Robert.
> > >
> > > Your judgement of me is /not/ me, only your biased opinion of me.
> > >
> > Oh, but Will ... Bobby Burro has a "friend". And the friend
> > coincidentally just happens to be a "Kerouac scholar". Are you refusing
> > to accept the judgement of "Kerouac scholar"?
>
> Not at all, but I would have enjoyed reading more about the unpublished Jack Kerouac manuscript, which remains a mystery for whatever reason.
>
> HTH and HAND.

Zod wrote:

> On Monday, December 12, 2022 at 7:59:58 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 7:23:43 AM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>> > On 2022-11-30 5:51 p.m., Will Dockery wrote:
>> > > On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 9:08:25 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
>> > >> On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 8:30:05 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> > >>> On Wednesday, November 30, 2022 at 8:25:12 AM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail..com 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.
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> Thanks for giving it so much thought and effort. I have to acknowledge
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> that.
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> Pluralizing all the pronouns would change the poem considerably, but one
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> thing it wouldn't change is the confusion you mentioned. If someone
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> thought this was a poem about my own father and childhood because it was
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> titled "My Father's House," they'd be just as likely to think that if it
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> were titled "Our Father's House".
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> Except, of course, for that religious connotation; some might think it
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> was a poem about God. But it's not a poem about God, and that's an
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> interpretation I wouldn't want to encourage.
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>> Lose the parentheses.
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>>>> I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.
>> > >>>>>>>>>>> Exactly, you are the best judge of how your poem should be presented......
>> > >>>>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>>>> Words of wisdom from a man who chooses to live
>> > >>>>>>>>> Key word being "chooses".
>> > >>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>>> Correct. The key word is "chooses"
>> > >>>>>>> And, as we all know, Zod chose the path of the Dharma Bum.
>> > >>>>>>>
>> > >>>>>>
>> > >>>>>> Do you really believe that a person who was truly following what you call "the "path of the Dharma Bum" would send a minute of their time and energy in a place like aapc?
>> > >>>>> Jack Kerouac, maybe, probably not Gary Snyder.
>> > >>>> Discovering that his most well known book spawned acolytes like you and Zod is the main reason why Jack Kerouac drank himself to death.
>> > >>> Not really.
>> > >>>
>> > >>> Jack Kerouac was a hard drinker long before he became famous.
>> > >>>
>> > >>> Look it up.
>> > >> I don't have to look it up, Will.
>> > >> My best friend's parents bought Kerouac's Northport house from Kerouac himself and he's a Kerouac scholar. He met Kerouac, has an unpublished Kerouac manuscript that he found in the house. He and I have spent many hours discussing Kerouac's life and work. Kerouac drank himself to death because of people like you.
>> > >
>> > > No, not really, Robert.
>> > >
>> > > Your judgement of me is /not/ me, only your biased opinion of me.
>> > >
>> > Oh, but Will ... Bobby Burro has a "friend". And the friend
>> > coincidentally just happens to be a "Kerouac scholar". Are you refusing
>> > to accept the judgement of "Kerouac scholar"?
>>
>> Not at all, but I would have enjoyed reading more about the unpublished Jack Kerouac manuscript, which remains a mystery for whatever reason.
>>
>> HTH and HAND.

Zod wrote:

> George Dance wrote:
>> Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> > Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> >> George 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
>> >> 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.
>> >
>>
>> Thanks for giving it so much thought and effort. I have to acknowledge
>> that.
>>
>> Pluralizing all the pronouns would change the poem considerably, but one
>> thing it wouldn't change is the confusion you mentioned. If someone
>> thought this was a poem about my own father and childhood because it was
>> titled "My Father's House," they'd be just as likely to think that if it
>> were titled "Our Father's House".
>>
>> Except, of course, for that religious connotation; some might think it
>> was a poem about God. But it's not a poem about God, and that's an
>> interpretation I wouldn't want to encourage.
>>
>> > Lose the parentheses.
>>
>> I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

> Exactly, you are the best judge of how your poem should be presented.....

Exactly.

On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 7:20:13 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Zod wrote:
>
> > George Dance wrote:
> >> Spam-I-Am wrote:
> >> > Spam-I-Am wrote:
> >> >> George 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
> >> >> 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.
> >> >
> >>
> >> Thanks for giving it so much thought and effort. I have to acknowledge
> >> that.
> >>
> >> Pluralizing all the pronouns would change the poem considerably, but one
> >> thing it wouldn't change is the confusion you mentioned. If someone
> >> thought this was a poem about my own father and childhood because it was
> >> titled "My Father's House," they'd be just as likely to think that if it
> >> were titled "Our Father's House".
> >>
> >> Except, of course, for that religious connotation; some might think it
> >> was a poem about God. But it's not a poem about God, and that's an
> >> interpretation I wouldn't want to encourage.
> >>
> >> > Lose the parentheses.
> >>
> >> I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.
>
> > Exactly, you are the best judge of how your poem should be presented......
> Exactly.

I suppose the reason I think parentheses are unnecessary is
because I don’t know how to read a parenthetical aside aloud.

On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 7:33:53 AM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 7:20:13 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > Zod wrote:
> >
> > > George Dance wrote:
> > >> Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > >> > Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > >> >> George 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
> > >> >> 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.
> > >> >
> > >>
> > >> Thanks for giving it so much thought and effort. I have to acknowledge
> > >> that.
> > >>
> > >> Pluralizing all the pronouns would change the poem considerably, but one
> > >> thing it wouldn't change is the confusion you mentioned. If someone
> > >> thought this was a poem about my own father and childhood because it was
> > >> titled "My Father's House," they'd be just as likely to think that if it
> > >> were titled "Our Father's House".
> > >>
> > >> Except, of course, for that religious connotation; some might think it
> > >> was a poem about God. But it's not a poem about God, and that's an
> > >> interpretation I wouldn't want to encourage.
> > >>
> > >> > Lose the parentheses.
> > >>
> > >> I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.
> >
> > > Exactly, you are the best judge of how your poem should be presented......
> > Exactly.
> I suppose the reason I think parentheses are unnecessary is
> because I don’t know how to read a parenthetical aside aloud.

I know how to do it, sort of an aside, like with trying to get italics across in spoken word poetry. I could show you better in person if we ever meet again.

Tone of voice and delivery have to get it across.

George 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

On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....

Zod wrote:

> George 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

> On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....

Agreed and seconded.

:)

George J. Dance wrote:

> Zod wrote:
>> George 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
>>
>> 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.

Well put, and getting this thread back on topic.

🙂

On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 6:30:14 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> George J. Dance wrote:
>
> > Zod wrote:
> >> George 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
> >>
> >> 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.
> Well put, and getting this thread back on topic.

An interesting take on the poem... unfortunately, there's nothing in it to suggest that the speaker has escaped from a mental institution.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 6:30:14 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> George J. Dance wrote:
>>
>> > Zod wrote:
>> >> George 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
>> >>
>> >> 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.
>> Well put, and getting this thread back on topic.

> An interesting take on the poem... unfortunately, there's nothing in it to suggest that the speaker has escaped from a mental institution.

Perhaps it just went over your head, Pendragon, you shit sniffing little monkey.

HTH and HAND.

On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 10:00:24 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>
> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 6:30:14 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> George J. Dance wrote:
> >>
> >> > Zod wrote:
> >> >> George 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
> >> >>
> >> >> 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.
> >> Well put, and getting this thread back on topic.
>
> > An interesting take on the poem... unfortunately, there's nothing in it to suggest that the speaker has escaped from a mental institution.
> Perhaps it just went over your head, Pendragon, you shit sniffing little monkey.

Point out where the poem suggests that the speaker is an escapee from the loony bin.

Will Dockery wrote:

> George J. Dance wrote:

>> Zod wrote:
>>> George 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
>>>
>>> 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.

> Well put, and getting this thread back on topic.

> 🙂

Agreed and seconded....!

On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> George 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
> On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....

Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.

On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > George 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
> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....
> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.

How is it "well crafted," Donkey?

Do you feel that the doggerel style is suitable to the disturbing theme?

What poetical elements raise this poem (IYO) above its less well-crafted peers?

What thoughts does it provoke in your mind?

Snipping adjectives from other reviews means nothing. You need to *apply* those adjectives to specific elements of the poem in order to give them meaning.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> > George 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
>> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022.....
>> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.

> How is it "well crafted,"

In pretty much every way.

🙂

On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 4:00:45 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>
> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> > George 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
> >> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....
> >> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.
>
> > How is it "well crafted,"
> In pretty much every way.

All that says is that you like it. And we all know that you and the Georges "like" everything one another does.

Tell me what makes the final stanza seem well-crafted and/or thought-provoking to you.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 4:00:45 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>>
>> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> >> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> >> > George 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
>> >> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....
>> >> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.
>>
>> > How is it "well crafted,"
>> In pretty much every way.

> All that says is that you like it

Yes, the poem is damned good, autobiographical or not.

HTH and HAND.

On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 9:50:12 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>
> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 4:00:45 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> Michael Pendragon wrote:
> >>
> >> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> >> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> >> > George 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
> >> >> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....
> >> >> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.
> >>
> >> > How is it "well crafted,"
> >> In pretty much every way.
>
> > All that says is that you like it
> Yes, the poem is damned good, autobiographical or not.

No, Donkey, it's really not.

It reads like a piece of light verse. If it's supposed to be funny, the joke falls flat. If it's supposed to be serious, the light tone undermines the intent.

In short, it fails to come across as anything other than amateurishly bad.

I like George's idea that the speaker is a lunatic breaking into his childhood house that now belongs to someone else. But George fails to put that idea across. There's a goldmine of black humor to be milked out of a scenario like that. I'm really sorry that the poem fails to deliver.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 9:50:12 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>>
>> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 4:00:45 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> >> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>> >>
>> >> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> >> >> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> >> >> > George 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
>> >> >> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....
>> >> >> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.
>> >>
>> >> > How is it "well crafted,"
>> >> In pretty much every way.
>>
>> > All that says is that you like it
>> Yes, the poem is damned good, autobiographical or not.

> No

I didn't expect you to agree, but the poem is actually damned good.

So it goes.

🙂

On Thursday, December 15, 2022 at 12:20:13 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>
> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 9:50:12 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> Michael Pendragon wrote:
> >>
> >> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 4:00:45 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> >> Michael Pendragon wrote:
> >> >>
> >> >> > On Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 1:06:36 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> >> >> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> >> >> > George 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
> >> >> >> > On third read... one of the top ten poems posted here in the year 2022....
> >> >> >> Well crafted and very thought provoking, George Dance in good form.
> >> >>
> >> >> > How is it "well crafted,"
> >> >> In pretty much every way.
> >>
> >> > All that says is that you like it
> >> Yes, the poem is damned good, autobiographical or not.
>
> > No
> I didn't expect you to agree, but the poem is actually damned good.
>
> So it goes.

I didn't expect you to give me a straight answer.

On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, George 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
>

Like I said, a well crafted and very thought provoking poem. George Dance in good form.

HTH and HAND.

On Thursday, December 15, 2022 at 12:55:14 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Tuesday, December 13, 2022 at 4:02:53 PM UTC-5, George 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
> >
> Like I said, a well crafted and very thought provoking poem. George Dance in good form.

You repeat yourself like a broken record, Donkey.

Next time, try really hard and see if you can *explain* how this ridiculous piece of doggerel verse is "well crafted," and share what thoughts it has allegedly provoked.

Look who's talking.

You constantly repeat yourself, Pendragon.

Try not to be such a hypocrite.

🙂