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From: mpsilvertone@yahoo.com (HarryLime)
Newsgroups: alt.arts.poetry.comments,rec.arts.poems
Subject: Re: My Father's House / gjd (for new comments)
Date: Wed, 12 Feb 2025 15:32:25 +0000
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On Wed, 12 Feb 2025 14:49:46 +0000, W.Dockery wrote:

> On Wed, 12 Feb 2025 14:33:05 +0000, HarryLime wrote:
>
>> On Wed, 12 Feb 2025 5:07:19 +0000, W.Dockery wrote:
>>
>>> On Wed, 12 Feb 2025 4:25:14 +0000, HarryLime wrote:
>>>
>>>> On Mon, 10 Feb 2025 19:06:31 +0000, Will Dockery wrote:
>>>>> On Mon, 10 Feb 2025 4:18:39 +0000, HarryLime wrote:
>>>>>> Will Dockery wrote:
>>>>>>>> On Sun, 9 Feb 2025 19:58:55 +0000, HarryLime wrote:
>>>>
>>>>>>>>> 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
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Here it is, MFH.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Thank you for reposting this poem of mine, Will. While it's true that it
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> has been discussed a lot over the years, it also true that at least one
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> person wants to discuss it now; and this would be the appropriate place
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> to move those comments, rather than leaving them scattered all over the
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> group. So let's start with this one:
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> On Mon, 3 Feb 2025 16:15:27 +0000, Michael Monkey Peabrain (MPP) aka
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> "HarryLime" wrote:
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> On Mon, 3 Feb 2025 13:06:00 +0000, George J. Dance wrote:
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Why do you lie so much, George?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> (That's a rhetorical question, as you've already intimated that your
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> pathological lying stems from you having been abused as a child.)
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> No, Lying Michael: I have never said, or even "intimated" (!) that I was
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> pathological, lying, or
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> "abused as a child".
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> You wrote a "mostly autobiographical" poem detailing the abuses you
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> suffered as a child, George.  And you're demonstrating your pathological
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> obsession with lying in your trio of denials, listed above.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> https://www.novabbs.com/arts/article.php?id=15801&group=rec.arts.poems
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> HarryLiar has manufactured yet another fake quote; I have never called
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> this poem "mostly autobiographical" or autobiographical in many ways. I
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> have distinctly told him in the past that, while some of the speaker's
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> memories were based on my own childhood experiences, not all of them
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> were; I was using them in a work of creative fiction, not an
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> autobiography of any kind. So he lied and made up a fake quote to
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> support his lie.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> The poem is meant to be a dramatic monolgue, in the style of Browning
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> (His "My Last Duchess" is a good example), meant to get inside the
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> psychology of a  speaker or persona. The speaker may have experienced
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> his childhood as "abuse" - HarryLiar calls it that but the speaker
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> doesn't. The memories of it, though, have stayed on his mind, and he
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> wants to get rid of those memories (symbolized by burning down the house
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> at the end).
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> It's deliberately left to the reader to decide if the speaker actually
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> had been abused by his father or not. I did structure it, for effect,
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> from the least to the most abusive-seeming experiences; from having to
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> use a back door and remove his shoes to enter the house, to doing
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> household chores, to doing garden work in the summertime, to not being
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> allowed to use some of the furniture, to having to stay inside alone at
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> night and be in bed early, to being subjected to corporal punishment.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Adding them together like that, it's easy enough to conclude that the
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> father had been abusive; but I'll point out that all of those events
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> were things children commonly experienced 50-60 years ago, and that none
>>>>>>>>>>>>>> of them were commonly considered abusive.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>> As Karla Rogers often reminded us:
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>>> "Try not to mistake the speaker in the poem with the writer of the
>>>>>>>>>>>>> poem."
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>> As I'd noted in my post, Karla's oft-quoted adage (oft-quoted by you,
>>>>>>>>>>>> that is), is simply incorrect.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>> My previous post explains why:
>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>>>>>> "In fact, Karla's oft-quoted adage aside, one can *never* fully separate
>>>>>>>>>>>> the two.
>>>>>>>>>>>> For instance, all of the characters in any author's fictional novel are
>>>>>>>>>>>> going to represent some aspect of the author.  Every poem stems from its
>>>>>>>>>>>> author's imagination... regardless of what external persons and/or
>>>>>>>>>>>> events might have inspired it.  Every literary work is similar to a
>>>>>>>>>>>> dream construct in that regard; and like a dream construct, can be
>>>>>>>>>>>> analyzed by a psychologist, a literary critic, or even the average
>>>>>>>>>>>> reader.  Since "My Father's House" was based to a large extent on your
>>>>>>>>>>>> own childhood experiences, it literally begs for a psychoanalytical
>>>>>>>>>>>> reading."
>>
>>>>>>>>>>> You dispute the wisdom of the mighty Karla Rogers?
>>
>>>>>>>>> I'm here for the poetry.
>>
>>>>>>> You're only here to lie and misrepresent, Harry.
>>
>>> While I've been discussing the poetry of Robert Creeley for a
>>> week now.
>>
>> You've made very few attempts to discuss anyone's poetry over the years
>
> No, I've discussed dozens of poems and poets here over more than two
> decades.

First off, having discussed dozens of poems and poets over a 20 year
period in a poetry group, is extremely lame.

Second: Your "discussions" amount to little more than meaningless
generalizations ("Great poem), or paragraphs copy/pasted from Wikipedia.

About 10 years ago (if not longer), I challenged you to pick a Bukowski
poem of you choice, and write at least one paragraph in which you
provide a critical analysis of it.

For the first 5 years, you claimed to be "working on" this paragraph,
and kept promising that it was coming soon.  Eventually, you gave up on
the it altogether.

You still have not produced it.

--