My Father's House / George J. Dance

[George J. Dance]

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

[Zod]

Post by George J. Dance
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....!

[George J. Dance]

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

[W-Dockery]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

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

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

Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.
The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
over a decade makes that much clearer.
As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
but I wanted to keep that hidden.

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

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

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

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

Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.
The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
over a decade makes that much clearer.
As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
but I wanted to keep that hidden.

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

People often make that mistake, yes.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

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

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

Thanks, Zod. It's a poem I'm proud of. I wrote the first draft quickly,
but I spent several years tweaking it before it went into a book.
The big revision here is the rewrite to L2. In the original discussion,
one of the people trying to cut it to shreds was a poet, and amongst her
complaints she had a criticism I thought valid: it's not clear that the
speaker is the child of the poem now grown up. And I think realizing tht
is essential to appreciating the thing. Having the father been dead for
over a decade makes that much clearer.
As well, it makes certain things more ambiguous, and I think that's a
plus as well. By taking out the old L2, it's no longer clear whether the
house this guy is walking around in is abandoned, or still lived in.
It's also unclear who "they" are; my hidden idea was that the speaker
was under psychiatric care, ant "they" were the ones looking after him,
but I wanted to keep that hidden.

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

People often make that mistake, yes.

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

[W-Dockery]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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:

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

Most or all of the series is available through YouTube, I see:

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.

HTH and HAND.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by W-Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.
HTH and HAND.

No, you didn’t, but I don’t care. Have a nice plonk.

[General-Zod]

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

Quite an excellent poem, G.D.

[W.Dockery]

Post by General-Zod

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

Quite an excellent poem, G.D.

Agreed and seconded.

;)

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by George J. Dance
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.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Spam-I-Am

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

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

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

Lose the parentheses.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

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

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

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

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

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

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

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

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

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

Swat I sed, dummyhed.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

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

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

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

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

Swat I sed, dummyhed.

I don't know how I missed that. I'm giving myself a time out.

[George J. Dance]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

You’re welcome. Have a nice day.

[Will Dockery]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".

Exactly.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".

Exactly.

Something we can agree on, then.

🙂

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".

Exactly.

Something we can agree on, then.
🙂

What is that?

[W.Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was "God".

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am
Exactly.

Something we can agree on, then.
🙂

What is that?

What I wrote. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

[Will Dockery]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".

HTH and HAND.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.

🙂

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.
🙂

Okay, if you say so. No worries.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.

Okay, if you say so. No worries.

Okay, have a great evening, Corey.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.
🙂

Cory's suggestion would have given the poem another, deeper, layer of meaning: the inability of the father (or the son) to forgive. That inability to forgive led to abusive behavior by the father, and fantasies of arson by the son. I'm not surprised that you aren't capable of understanding that, you're profoundly anti-semantic. But it's alright, I forgive you.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.
🙂

Cory's suggestion would have given the poem another, deeper, layer of meaning: the inability of the father (or the son) to forgive. That inability to forgive led to abusive behavior by the father, and fantasies of arson by the son. I'm not surprised that you aren't capable of understanding that, you're profoundly anti-semantic. But it's alright, I forgive you.

George is correct. My suggestions would make his poem a completely different poem.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.
🙂

Cory's suggestion would have given the poem another, deeper, layer of meaning: the inability of the father (or the son) to forgive. That inability to forgive led to abusive behavior by the father, and fantasies of arson by the son. I'm not surprised that you aren't capable of understanding that, you're profoundly anti-semantic. But it's alright, I forgive you.

George is correct. My suggestions would make his poem a completely different poem.

George’s poem, as it stands, is irredeemable.

[Zod]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Quite correct.....

[Zod]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Quite well put....

[Will Dockery]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Exactly ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

...

[Will Dockery]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".

HTH and HAND.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".
HTH and HAND.

Obviously not.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".
HTH and HAND.

Obviously not.

Agreed.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".
HTH and HAND.

Obviously not.

Agreed.

Well, there you go.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".
HTH and HAND.

Obviously not.

Agreed.

Well, there you go.

Great, have a nice day, Corey.

🙂

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".
HTH and HAND.

Obviously not.

Agreed.

Well, there you go.

Great, have a nice day, Corey.
🙂

Go team.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, George doesn't want to turn the poem "into a different poem".
HTH and HAND.

Obviously not.

Agreed.

Well, there you go.

Great, have a nice day, Corey.

Go team.

That, too.

🙂

[Zod]

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.....

[Michael Pendragon]

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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 underneath a piece of discarded tarp.

[W-Dockery]

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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".

[Michael Pendragon]

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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" -- which is why I'd made of point of including it.

One cannot fault the wisdom of a man who has become homeless through no fault of his own. Bad things happen to wise men as well as to fools.

One can, however, fault the wisdom of a man who *chooses* to live the life of a rodent.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.....

That's the basic understanding, ye.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.....

That's the basic understanding, yes.

Typo corrected ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Okay, I madea typo, and NancyGene is thrilled.

HTH and HAND.

[Ash Wurthing]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.....

That's the basic understanding, yes.

Typo corrected ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Okay, I madea typo, and NancyGene is thrilled.

Get correcting again!

[Will Dockery]

Post by Ash Wurthing

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.....

That's the basic understanding, yes.

Typo corrected ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Okay, I made a typo, and NancyGene is thrilled.

Get correcting again!

When needed, I will.

[Will Dockery]

The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.

I don't think I have to repeat it.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

🙂

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.
🙂

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

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.
🙂

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

That is where those two teams are.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

Spain v. Germany @ 2:00pm EST.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

Yes, I saw that on the schedule:

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Well, there you go. Go team.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Well, there you go. Go team.

Which side are you on?

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Well, there you go. Go team.

Which side are you on?

I’m all for teamwork, obviously.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Well, there you go. Go team.

Which side are you on?

I’m all for teamwork, obviously.

Great answer.

🙂

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome.0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Well, there you go. Go team.

Which side are you on?

I’m all for teamwork, obviously.

Great answer.
🙂

Go team.

[W.Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery
The mistake Karla Rogers wrote about that applies here.
I don't think I have to repeat it.

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

Have a nice day, Corey.

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

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

Go team.

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

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

Spanish Bombs
http://youtu.be/Ul0uJfhywW8

https://www.google.com/search?q=world+cup&oq=wor&aqs=chrome..0.69i59j46i131i433i512j69i61j69i60j69i65j69i57j69i61j46i131i433i512j0i131i433i512j0i131i433.6740j1j4&client=ms-android-tmus-us-revc&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Well, there you go. Go team.

Which side are you on?

I’m all for teamwork, obviously.

Great answer.

Go team.

<Applause>

[Will Dockery]

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery
http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am
Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.
HTH and HAND.

No, you didn’t

Yes, I did.

See above ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery
http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am
Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.
HTH and HAND.

No, you didn’t

Yes, I did.
See above ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I DON’T CARE. HAVEA NICE PLONK.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery
http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am
Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.
HTH and HAND.

No, you didn’t

Yes, I did.
See above ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I DON'T CARE

So why are you yelling about it?

🙂

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery
http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am
Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.
HTH and HAND.

No, you didn’t

Yes, I did.
See above ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I DON'T CARE

So why are you yelling about it?
🙂

PLONKY PLONKY DONKEY

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery
http://youtu.be/m_VG3je3U-M

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am
Daddy’s Home
https://fikklefame.com/daddys-home-ep-1-7-boardwalk-empire/

Good show, I watched the DVD collection.

This is the first I’ve heard of it.

http://youtu.be/qRpqQsdU-dg

The similarity between George Dance’s story of childhood abuse and Nucky’s is striking. Pun intended.

George Dance wrote his poem several years before Boardwalk Empire was created.

Okay. So, what? I’m sure there are many survivors of abuse with similar stories, before and since.

No doubt.

So, what point were you trying to make about George’s poem?

I explained that in my original post.
HTH and HAND.

No, you didn’t

Yes, I did.
See above ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I DON'T CARE

So why are you yelling about it?

PLONKY PLONKY

Not a problem.

Go team, as you say, Corey.

🙂

[Will Dockery]

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.

Cory's suggestion would have given the poem another, deeper, layer of meaning: the inability of the father (or the son) to forgive. That inability to forgive led to abusive behavior by the father, and fantasies of arson by the son. I'm not surprised that you aren't capable of understanding that, you're profoundly anti-semantic. But it's alright, I forgive you.

George is correct. My suggestions would make his poem a completely different poem.

Yes, I don't think George wants that.

[Spam-I-Am]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Will Dockery

Post by George J. Dance

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
Lose the parentheses.

I like them. They're both interruptions in the speaker's thought process.

Like I said, yes, I wondered why you would want to make the reader think the father of the poem was"God".
HTH and HAND.

Like he said, he didn’t.

Right, because your suggestion made no sense to the poem.

Cory's suggestion would have given the poem another, deeper, layer of meaning: the inability of the father (or the son) to forgive. That inability to forgive led to abusive behavior by the father, and fantasies of arson by the son. I'm not surprised that you aren't capable of understanding that, you're profoundly anti-semantic. But it's alright, I forgive you.

George is correct. My suggestions would make his poem a completely different poem.

Yes, I don't think George wants that.

Obviously not.

[Zod]

Post by George J. Dance
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

Second read, quite excellent...

[ME]

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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

Second read, quite excellent...

I guess to a convicted sexual deviant, it would be a good read….

[W-Dockery]

Post by ME

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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

Second read, quite excellent...

I guess to a convicted sexual deviant, it would be a good read….

You seem confused again, ME.

🙂

[NancyGene]

Post by ME

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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

Second read, quite excellent...

I guess to a convicted sexual deviant, it would be a good read….

Good one, ME! We don't have to guess which stanza was Mr. Zod's favorite. He picked out the words "boys," "pee," "bottoms down," and "belt" and was in deviant heaven. He could also relate very well to "filthy."

[Will Dockery]

Post by ME

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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

Second read, quite excellent...

I guess to a convicted sexual deviant, it would be a good read….

Good one, ME! We don't have to guess which stanza was Mr. Zod's favorite. He picked out the words "boys," "pee," "bottoms down," and "belt" and was in deviant heaven. He could also relate very well to "filthy."

Why do you lie and misrepresent so much, NancyGene?

Just curious.

🙂

[ME]

Post by ME

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance
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

Second read, quite excellent...

I guess to a convicted sexual deviant, it would be a good read….

Good one, ME! We don't have to guess which stanza was Mr. Zod's favorite. He picked out the words "boys," "pee," "bottoms down," and "belt" and was in deviant heaven. He could also relate very well to "filthy."

I’m sure that’s why dance and zod are such good buds; he reminds dance of his father.

[General-Zod]

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by Zod

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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

I know a bit, yes, thanks....

[Will Dockery]

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

🙂

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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?

[Will Dockery]

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

[Will Dockery]

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

[Robert Burrows]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

[Michael Pendragon]

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

Pull up your PJs, Donkey... you've just been spanked!

[George J. Dance]

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by Robert Burrows

Post by Will Dockery

Post by W-Dockery

Post by Michael Pendragon

Post by George J. Dance

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by Spam-I-Am

Post by George J. Dance
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.

Post by Spam-I-Am
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.

Yes he was; ut his drinking got more "extreme" afterward.

" Kerouac had long dealt with a drinking problem, and even by age 26 it
occurred to him that he should cut back. On March 22, 1948, he wrote in
his journal, “I started drinking at eighteen but that’s after eight
years of occasional boozing, I can’t physically take it any more, nor
mentally. It was at the age of eighteen, too, when melancholy and
indecision first came over me—there’s a fair connection there.”[4] Yet
his alcoholism reached new extremes after the publication of On the
Road. In addition to losing his treasured privacy, Jack was also shocked
by Neal Cassady’s arrest for possession of marijuana in 1958, for which
Neal served two years in a California prison.[5]"
https://www.beatdom.com/death-within-a-chrysalis/#:~:text=Kerouac%20had%20long%20dealt%20with,it%20any%20more%2C%20nor%20mentally.