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.

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.

It reminds me of a scene from Boardwalk Empire:

https://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

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.

🙂

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 Wednesday, December 14, 2022 at 10:45:14 AM UTC-5, General-Zod wrote:
> 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, and "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....!

I didn't even realize this thread was here. I think it's from the "Mt Father's House" thread that I don't want to revive. But I have been thinking, and probably will end up posting, more about it as a result of the multiple threads on aapc; and it occurs to me this would be a better place to put those posts than any on that group. So I'll bump this, just to keep the thread alive.

George J. Dance wrote:

> On 2023-2-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
>> 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.

You should be proud, the poem is a stone cold classic...!

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.

Well put, George.

:)

George J. Dance wrote:

> On 2022-11-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
>> 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.

Hello again G.D....!!

George J. Dance wrote:

> On 2024-1-26 4:02 p.m., Zod wrote:
>> 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.

Yo... kool...