Spam-I-Am wrote:

> On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 5:05:31 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 4:56:59 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 4:53:47 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> > > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 4:06:35 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> > > > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 4:00:16 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> > > > > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 3:53:48 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> > > > > > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 3:23:48 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> > > > > > > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 1:55:24 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > > George Dance wrote:
>> > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >> > That's pretty funny coming from NancyGene, who thinks London, home of John Dunne and Robert F. Stillings, is in Ireland.... ha ha.
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >>
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >> What was even funnier, for me, was that just after announding the Yeats
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >> exhibit in London, Ireland, Prof. NG suddenly took a month-long
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >> "sabbatical" from the group. I spent a couple of amusing hours imagining
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >> them roaming around Ireland looking for London.. (Of course, not being a
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > >> troll, I never posted about it.)
>> > > > > > > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > > Ha ha ... you nailed it G.D....
>> > > > > > > > > > > > > To the wall.
>> > > > > > > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > > > Johnny Cash - Get Low (To The Window, To The Wall)
>> > > > > > > > > > > > https://youtu.be/F9TKfMOiBQU
>> > > > > > > > > > > "When in doubt, quote Johnny Cash."
>> > > > > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > > > You are so fucking stupid.
>> > > > > > > > > Look who's talking.
>> > > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Better yet, look who’s NOT talking.
>> > > > > > > You're right, since Usenet is a text based medium, none of us are really talking, here.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > HTH and HAND.
>> > > > > > That’s certainly one way to look at it, sure.
>> > > > > Most of us use "he said, she said" here although we know better.....
>> > > > Exactly. Talking is just a common term for corresponding. So, “look who’s
>> > > > NOT talking” can also be understood to mean look who’s NOT responding.
>> > > Okay, no argument with that.
>> > >
>> > > HTH and HAND.
>> > Well, there you go. Have a pleasant evening.
>> Likewise, Corey.
>>
>

> Tomeorrow, tomeorrow, I luv ya, tomeorrow, yer always a day away.

Spell lame much, Corey?

On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 10:33:52 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> On 2022-12-01 10:08 p.m., Family Guy wrote:
> > On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:57:52 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:54:18 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> >>> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:09:21 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> >>>>>
> >>>> 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.
> >>>
> >>> Wow. No wonder you're so screwed up.
> >> "Try not to confuse the speaker of the poem with the writer of the poem." -Karla Rogers
> >>
> > Donkey:
> > He has stated this poem is "autobiographical."
>
> No, liar, Michael Monkey stated it was "autobiographical."

No, liar. I said that it was "largely autobiographical."

You pretended to take offense over that on the grounds that you'd said that it was "largely based on personal experience."

When I asked you to explain the difference between the two, you conveniently dropped the all important qualifier, "largely," and prattled on about "autobiography" vs "creative fiction."

Largely autobiographical means that it is mostly based on your personal experiences.

> Do you really think that, if you repeat his lies, he'll let you on the
> team? It won't work, any more than it worked to get you onto PJ Ross's
> team. It's time to facts: no one wants you.

If I had a team, I would certainly want Alex to be on it.

As Karen noted, his posts are often very creative... and LOL funny.

Michael Pendragon wrote:

> On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 10:33:52 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>> On 2022-12-01 10:08 p.m., Family Guy wrote:
>> > On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:57:52 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> >> On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:54:18 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
>> >>> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:09:21 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>
>> >>>> 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.
>> >>>
>> >>> Wow. No wonder you're so screwed up.
>> >> "Try not to confuse the speaker of the poem with the writer of the poem." -Karla Rogers
>
>> > He has stated this poem is "autobiographical."
>>
>> No, liar, Michael Monkey stated it was "autobiographical."

> No, liar. I said that it was "largely autobiographical."

While you were pretending that the poem was about George in every detail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.

🙂

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> George J. Dance wrote:
> >
> > My Father's House
>
> > This is my father's house, although
> > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > They said it would be quite all right
> > To take a drive to see it now.
>
> > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > I helped, though I was only six.
>
> > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>
> > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > To be so many other places.
> > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>
> > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > Where I would work the summers through,
> > While watching my friends run and play
> > Mysterious games I never knew.
>
> > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > Which, the corner where boys were put?
>
> > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > To read or play alone, and then
>
> > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>
> > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > Its flames would light up all the air.
>
> > ~~
> > George J. Dance
> > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>
> Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
>
> 🙂

It’s not excellent poetry.

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 12:24:44 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> Michael Pendragon wrote:
>
> > On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 10:33:52 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> >> On 2022-12-01 10:08 p.m., Family Guy wrote:
> >> > On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:57:52 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> >> On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:54:18 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> >> >>> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:09:21 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> >
> >> >>>> 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.
> >> >>>
> >> >>> Wow. No wonder you're so screwed up.
> >> >> "Try not to confuse the speaker of the poem with the writer of the poem." -Karla Rogers
> >
> >> > He has stated this poem is "autobiographical."
> >>
> >> No, liar, Michael Monkey stated it was "autobiographical."
>
> > No, liar. I said that it was "largely autobiographical."
>
> While you were pretending that the poem was about George in every detail.

What part of "largely" are you failing to understand?

On Friday, December 2, 2022 at 10:33:52 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> On 2022-12-01 10:08 p.m., Family Guy wrote:
> > On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:57:52 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> On Thursday, December 1, 2022 at 1:54:18 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> >>> On Saturday, November 26, 2022 at 3:09:21 PM UTC-5, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
> >>>>>
> >>>> 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.
> >>>
> >>> Wow. No wonder you're so screwed up.
> >> "Try not to confuse the speaker of the poem with the writer of the poem." -Karla Rogers
> >>
> > Donkey:
> > He has stated this poem is "autobiographical."
>
> No, liar, Michael Monkey stated it was "autobiographical."

And he's still backpedaling about that.

> Do you really think that, if you repeat his lies, he'll let you on the
> team? It won't work, any more than it worked to get you onto PJ Ross's
> team. It's time to facts: no one wants you.
>
>
>
>
>
>
> > In addition, that's a very hypocritical thing for you to write, since you repeatedly claim your "poems" are the same.
> > Also, in this case, the speaker and writer are same.
> > Please learn to read. Third graders can do it. So can you.

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> George J. Dance wrote:
> >
> > My Father's House
>
> > This is my father's house, although
> > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > They said it would be quite all right
> > To take a drive to see it now.
>
> > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > I helped, though I was only six.
>
> > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>
> > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > To be so many other places.
> > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>
> > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > Where I would work the summers through,
> > While watching my friends run and play
> > Mysterious games I never knew.
>
> > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > Which, the corner where boys were put?
>
> > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > To read or play alone, and then
>
> > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>
> > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > Its flames would light up all the air.
>
> > ~~
> > George J. Dance
> > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>
> Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
>
> 🙂
It's pathological, not poetic.

Robert Burrows wrote:

> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> George J. Dance wrote:
>> >
>> > My Father's House
>>
>> > This is my father's house, although
>> > The man died thirteen years ago.
>> > They said it would be quite all right
>> > To take a drive to see it now.
>>
>> > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>> > And built the whole thing (from a box),
>> > Toiling after each full day's work.
>> > I helped, though I was only six.
>>
>> > Look, here's the back door I would use
>> > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>> > To enter; there I'd leave my things
>> > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>>
>> > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>> > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>> > To be so many other places.
>> > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>>
>> > Outside, the garden that he grew
>> > Where I would work the summers through,
>> > While watching my friends run and play
>> > Mysterious games I never knew.
>>
>> > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>> > The one chair I was let to sit?
>> > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>> > Which, the corner where boys were put?
>>
>> > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>> > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>> > After the meal, to make no noise,
>> > To read or play alone, and then
>>
>> > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>> > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>> > Face and pyjama bottoms down
>> > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>>
>> > Oh, if I were a millionaire
>> > I'd buy my father's house, and there
>> > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>> > Its flames would light up all the air.
>>
>> > ~~
>> > George J. Dance
>> > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>>
>> Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
>>
>
> It's pathological, not poetic.

In your opinion, you mean.

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 1:15:49 PM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > George J. Dance wrote:
> > >
> > > My Father's House
> >
> > > This is my father's house, although
> > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > To take a drive to see it now.
> >
> > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > I helped, though I was only six.
> >
> > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> >
> > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > To be so many other places.
> > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> >
> > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> >
> > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> >
> > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > To read or play alone, and then
> >
> > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> >
> > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> >
> > > ~~
> > > George J. Dance
> > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> >
> > Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
> >
> > 🙂
> It's pathological, not poetic.

I like George's poem.
It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
I read it again.
Keep it up, George.

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 1:15:49 PM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > > >
> > > > My Father's House
> > >
> > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > >
> > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > >
> > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > >
> > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > >
> > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > >
> > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > >
> > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > >
> > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > >
> > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > >
> > > > ~~
> > > > George J. Dance
> > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > >
> > > Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
> > >
> > > 🙂
> > It's pathological, not poetic.
> I like George's poem.
> It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> I read it again.
> Keep it up, George.

Wtf is “sad but bold and unaffected” supposed to mean? Sounds like bullshit to me.

Will Dockery wrote:

> Robert Burrows wrote:

>> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>>> George J. Dance wrote:
>>> >
>>> > My Father's House
>>>
>>> > This is my father's house, although
>>> > The man died thirteen years ago.
>>> > They said it would be quite all right
>>> > To take a drive to see it now.
>>>
>>> > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>>> > And built the whole thing (from a box),
>>> > Toiling after each full day's work.
>>> > I helped, though I was only six.
>>>
>>> > Look, here's the back door I would use
>>> > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>>> > To enter; there I'd leave my things
>>> > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>>>
>>> > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>>> > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>>> > To be so many other places.
>>> > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>>>
>>> > Outside, the garden that he grew
>>> > Where I would work the summers through,
>>> > While watching my friends run and play
>>> > Mysterious games I never knew.
>>>
>>> > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>>> > The one chair I was let to sit?
>>> > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>>> > Which, the corner where boys were put?
>>>
>>> > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>>> > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>>> > After the meal, to make no noise,
>>> > To read or play alone, and then
>>>
>>> > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>>> > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>>> > Face and pyjama bottoms down
>>> > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>>>
>>> > Oh, if I were a millionaire
>>> > I'd buy my father's house, and there
>>> > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>>> > Its flames would light up all the air.
>>>
>>> > ~~
>>> > George J. Dance
>>> > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>>>
>>> Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
>>>
>>
>> It's pathological, not poetic.

> In your opinion, you mean.

Exactly, opinions, that's all any of us have, as poetry, like art, is subjective....

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > George J. Dance wrote:
>
> > > > My Father's House
> > >
> > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > >
> > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > >
> > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > >
> > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > >
> > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > >
> > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > >
> > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > >
> > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > >
> > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > >
> > > > ~~
> > > > George J. Dance
> > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>
> I like George's poem.
> It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> I read it again.
> Keep it up, George.

Agreed and seconded, and welcome to the poetry group, Dennis...!

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:26:52 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > George J. Dance wrote:
> >
> > > > > My Father's House
> > > >
> > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > >
> > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > >
> > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > >
> > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > >
> > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > >
> > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > >
> > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > >
> > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > >
> > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > >
> > > > > ~~
> > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> >
> > I like George's poem.
> > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > I read it again.
> > Keep it up, George.
> Agre

Sounds like bullshit to me

Not the first time I had my face rubbed in my own bovine scatology but I still appreciate the poem.

Dennis Rowan wrote:

> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:26:52 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
>> > > George J. Dance wrote:
>> >
>> > > > > My Father's House
>> > > >
>> > > > > This is my father's house, although
>> > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
>> > > > > They said it would be quite all right
>> > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
>> > > >
>> > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>> > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
>> > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
>> > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
>> > > >
>> > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
>> > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>> > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
>> > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>> > > >
>> > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>> > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>> > > > > To be so many other places.
>> > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>> > > >
>> > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
>> > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
>> > > > > While watching my friends run and play
>> > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
>> > > >
>> > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>> > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
>> > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>> > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
>> > > >
>> > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>> > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>> > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
>> > > > > To read or play alone, and then
>> > > >
>> > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>> > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>> > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
>> > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>> > > >
>> > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
>> > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
>> > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>> > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
>> > > >
>> > > > > ~~
>> > > > > George J. Dance
>> > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>> >
>> > I like George's poem.
>> > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
>> > I read it again.
>> > Keep it up, George.
>> Agre

> Sounds like

Not at all, Zod was just extending a friendly welcome.

:)

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:39:55 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> George J. Dance wrote:
>
> > > > > > My Father's House
> > > > >
> > > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > >
> > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > >
> > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > >
> > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > >
> > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > >
> > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > >
> > > > > > ~~
> > > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > >
> > > I like George's poem.
> > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > > I read it again.
> > > Keep it up, George.
>
> I still appreciate the poem.

That's what really matters here...!

Carry on, good Sir...!

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:39:55 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:26:52 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > >
> > > > > > My Father's House
> > > > >
> > > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > >
> > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > >
> > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > >
> > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > >
> > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > >
> > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > >
> > > > > > ~~
> > > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > >
> > > I like George's poem.
> > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > > I read it again.
> > > Keep it up, George.
> > Agre
> Sounds like bullshit to me
>
> Not the first time I had my face rubbed in my own bovine scatology but I still appreciate the poem.

I appreciate the poem too, for what it is, but appreciation doesn’t make it a quality piece of writing. It’s not.

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:53:28 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > > George J. Dance wrote:
>
> > > > > My Father's House
> > > >
> > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > >
> > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > >
> > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > >
> > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > >
> > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > >
> > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > >
> > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > >
> > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > >
> > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > >
> > > > > ~~
> > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>
> > I like George's poem.
> > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > I read it again.
> > Keep it up, George.
> Wtf is “sad but bold and unaffected” supposed to mean? Sounds like bullshit to me.

Sounds like a good review to me....

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:00:57 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:53:28 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > > > George J. Dance wrote:
> >
> > > > > > My Father's House
> > > > >
> > > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > >
> > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > >
> > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > >
> > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > >
> > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > >
> > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > >
> > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > >
> > > > > > ~~
> > > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> >
> > > I like George's poem.
> > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > > I read it again.
> > > Keep it up, George.
> > Wtf is “sad but bold and unaffected” supposed to mean? Sounds like bullshit to me.
> Sounds like a good review to me....

Okay. Good for you.

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:06:03 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:00:57 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:53:28 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > > > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > >
> > > > > > > My Father's House
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > ~~
> > > > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > >
> > > > I like George's poem.
> > > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > > > I read it again.
> > > > Keep it up, George.
> > > Wtf is “sad but bold and unaffected” supposed to mean? Sounds like bullshit to me.
> > Sounds like a good review to me....
> Okay. Good for you.

Hi there Corey....!!

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:08:04 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:06:03 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:00:57 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:53:28 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> > > > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > > > > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > > >
> > > > > > > > My Father's House
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > > > >
> > > > > > > > ~~
> > > > > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > > >
> > > > > I like George's poem.
> > > > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > > > > I read it again.
> > > > > Keep it up, George.
> > > > Wtf is “sad but bold and unaffected” supposed to mean? Sounds like bullshit to me.
> > > Sounds like a good review to me....
> > Okay. Good for you.
> Hi there Corey....!!

Go team.

Spam-I-Am wrote:

> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:08:04 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:06:03 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
>> > > > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
>> > > > > > > George J. Dance wrote:
>
>> > > > > > > > My Father's House
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > This is my father's house, although
>> > > > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
>> > > > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
>> > > > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
>> > > > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
>> > > > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
>> > > > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
>> > > > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
>> > > > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
>> > > > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
>> > > > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
>> > > > > > > > To be so many other places.
>> > > > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
>> > > > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
>> > > > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
>> > > > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
>> > > > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
>> > > > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
>> > > > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
>> > > > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
>> > > > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
>> > > > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
>> > > > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
>> > > > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
>> > > > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
>> > > > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
>> > > > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
>> > > > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
>> > > > > > >
>> > > > > > > > ~~
>> > > > > > > > George J. Dance
>> > > > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
>> > > >
>> > > > > I like George's poem.
>> > > > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
>> > > > > I read it again.
>> > > > > Keep it up, George.
>> > > > Wtf is “sad but bold and unaffected” supposed to mean? Sounds like bullshit to me.
>> > > Sounds like a good review to me....
>> > Okay. Good for you.
>> Hi there Corey....!!

> Go team.

Buffalo Bills....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVNULUu4xrs

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 7:41:33 PM UTC, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 1:15:49 PM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > > >
> > > > My Father's House
> > >
> > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > >
> > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > >
> > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > >
> > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > >
> > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > >
> > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > >
> > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > >
> > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > >
> > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > >
> > > > ~~
> > > > George J. Dance
> > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > >
> > > Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
> > >
> > > 🙂
> > It's pathological, not poetic.
> I like George's poem.
> It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.

We don't see it as a sad poem--rather, it is a revenge poem. We don't consider it to be bold either, since the speaker is tentative.

It is certainly affected, though--the use of parentheses in two places makes it so. George Dance was told in an earlier thread to lose the parentheses, but he did not listen.

> I read it again.
> Keep it up, George.
Why quote George Dance's wife?

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:57:15 PM UTC-5, Spam-I-Am wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:39:55 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:26:52 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 2:41:33 PM UTC-5, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > > > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > > >
> > > > > > > My Father's House
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > > ~~
> > > > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > > >
> > > > I like George's poem.
> > > > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> > > > I read it again.
> > > > Keep it up, George.
> > > Agre
> > Sounds like bullshit to me
> >
> > Not the first time I had my face rubbed in my own bovine scatology but I still appreciate the poem.
> I appreciate the poem too, for what it is, but appreciation doesn’t make it a quality piece of writing. It’s not.

Why do you judge it of low quality?

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 4:21:02 PM UTC-5, NancyGene wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 7:41:33 PM UTC, Dennis Rowan wrote:
> > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 1:15:49 PM UTC-5, rjbur...@gmail.com wrote:
> > > On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 8:48:08 AM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > > > George J. Dance wrote:
> > > > >
> > > > > My Father's House
> > > >
> > > > > This is my father's house, although
> > > > > The man died thirteen years ago.
> > > > > They said it would be quite all right
> > > > > To take a drive to see it now.
> > > >
> > > > > Dad laid those grey foundation blocks
> > > > > And built the whole thing (from a box),
> > > > > Toiling after each full day's work.
> > > > > I helped, though I was only six.
> > > >
> > > > > Look, here's the back door I would use
> > > > > And here's where I'd remove my shoes
> > > > > To enter; there I'd leave my things
> > > > > And, when allowed, climb up these stairs.
> > > >
> > > > > In this room I'd wash many a dish,
> > > > > Gaze out this window, and I'd wish
> > > > > To be so many other places.
> > > > > (Wishy-washy? Oh, I guess!)
> > > >
> > > > > Outside, the garden that he grew
> > > > > Where I would work the summers through,
> > > > > While watching my friends run and play
> > > > > Mysterious games I never knew.
> > > >
> > > > > That room's all changed; oh, where is it,
> > > > > The one chair I was let to sit?
> > > > > (For boys can be such filthy things.)
> > > > > Which, the corner where boys were put?
> > > >
> > > > > Oh ... down that hall there is a room
> > > > > Where I'd be shut (as in a tomb)
> > > > > After the meal, to make no noise,
> > > > > To read or play alone, and then
> > > >
> > > > > Lights out: in bed by nine each night,
> > > > > Some nights wanting to pee with fright,
> > > > > Face and pyjama bottoms down
> > > > > As for my father's belt I'd wait.
> > > >
> > > > > Oh, if I were a millionaire
> > > > > I'd buy my father's house, and there
> > > > > I'd build a bonfire, oh so high
> > > > > Its flames would light up all the air.
> > > >
> > > > > ~~
> > > > > George J. Dance
> > > > > from Logos and other logoi, 2021
> > > >
> > > > Again, excellent poetry, as all apparently agree.
> > > >
> > > > 🙂
> > > It's pathological, not poetic.
> > I like George's poem.
> > It's a sad poem but bold and unaffected.
> We don't see it as a sad poem--rather, it is a revenge poem. We don't consider it to be bold either, since the speaker is tentative.
>
> It is certainly affected, though--the use of parentheses in two places makes it so. George Dance was told in an earlier thread to lose the parentheses, but he did not listen.
> > I read it again.
> > Keep it up, George.
> Why quote George Dance's wife?

Why quote George Dance's wife?

It's good encouragement, Nancy. You would do well to give the same to your humpty boyfriend Sluggo!!
Still like the poem for the same reasons I stated and you have confuted.
Good poetry evokes many and oft times, divergent takes.