Before You're Sixty-Four.

[annie blue]

Ladydi, it is great isn't it. I posted something very similar to your today's post and it got me into a mess of trouble. I did the same as you and read the whole thread in a day. Strange that I should come back to it the very day you posted. Anyway, good luck but beware the wrath of avenging angels......

[ladydi]

Hi Annie. It was with some trepidation that I entered the message as I remembered what happened to you! However today, I accidently found another thread about the "death" of William. Is this perchance the same William of Geoffrey/Sideways Sue/William fame? If indeed it is then I am sorry to hear of his passing. He was indeed a challenging cantankerous character.

[Geoffrey]

Lady Di wrote:
>I accidently found another thread about the "death" of William. Is this perchance the same William of Geoffrey/Sideways Sue/William fame?

Hello. I am Geoffrey in Norway, and very much alive and well. 'Sideways Sue' and 'William' are unconnected and unknown to me - as I trust Jarkko will confirm should you approach him.

Apologies for not responding earlier, but I didn't see what you had written until now. I hope you, and everyone else who remember me, are happy and in good health.

Warm regards -
Geoffrey

PS
Will be back in a little while. Miss you all.

[Geoffrey]

Andrew McGeever wrote:
>I'm glad you have climbed out of the trench, yet I remain bemused as to why you used "64" as a ladder for recovery.

Compared to threads here that are uninspired, desolate and ephemeral, this one is an interesting agora with well-established roots.

>. . . there's nothing I've written which is perfect.

A wise attitude to embrace. We are not perfect, though we strive to be as good as possible in order to impress. The ironic aspect is that while most people aim for flawlessness, few people admire someone who is perfect.

g

[ladydi]

Geoffrey....thank you SO much for being alive and well. I look forward to your intellectual, acerbic, witty commentary in the future. Continue to enjoy your sabbatical. I am sure many anticipate your return.

[Geoffrey]

Lady Di wrote:
>Continue to enjoy your sabbatical. I am sure many anticipate your return.

Thank you my dear. I have a vacant guest room if ever you are passing and in need of warmth, love and safety.

I have just been looking at an autobiographical verse about a young catholic lad, an 'altar boy' - as the author calls him. My famished eyeballs swooped like hawks over the lettered landscape searching for a tasty mouse, but alas found meagre pickings amongst the still life. Not a bad piece of work, however, especially when surrounded by a desert of doggerel. A dehydrated cowboy notices not the appalling taste of cactus water. It was well told, atmospheric, and had illustrative and detailed language. No humour or punchline, nothing extraordinary, ambiguous, controversial, exciting or particularly memorable - just one of those standard poems that point to a door between dull and good. A perfectly respectable tale of a working class couple raising their son up to experience and appreciate the religious and sacred quality of Our Lord. Yet Satan never sleeps. To that evil rascal those pews were little more than rows of potatoes, an allotment where he could hide his cuckoo's egg before slithering back into the night like the snake he will forever remain. Read 'Before You're Sixty-Four' for proof of his demonic work.

"A good man's heart bringeth forth that which is good, an evil man's that which is evil - for the mouth speaks of that which fills the heart." [Luke 6:45]

Warm regards -
Geoffrey

[Andrew McGeever]

Dear Geoffrey,
"that evil rascal" (sic) is he
(a) the Devil
(b) me
(c) a combination of (a) and (b)

It's getting late, and I have work tomorrow.

Andrew.

[Geoffrey]

Andrew McGeever asked:
>Dear Geoffrey,
>"that evil rascal" (sic) is he
>(a) the Devil
>(b) me
>(c) a combination of (a) and (b)

(a) the Devil

>It's getting late, and I have work tomorrow.

Spare a thought for me. I am one hour ahead of you and start work at 4:30am

[imaginary friend]

Dear Geoffrey,

You remind me of someone... whom I wish I had gotten to know better. Unfortunately, he's now gone forever, but the memories linger still.

God Bless,


IF

[Geoffrey]

Imaginary friend wrote:
>Dear Geoffrey,
>You remind me of someone... whom I wish I had gotten to know better. Unfortunately, he's now gone forever, but the memories linger still. God Bless.

I often see myself as rather inadequate, and therefore feel very honoured to remind you of that someone. Thank you.
La Belle


like a lump of butter balancing
on your hot corn-on-the-cob,
i melt away to nothing -
except a sweet taste in the gob

(composed with humour, especially for you)

[imaginary friend]

Disappointingly corny Geoffrey.

[Geoffrey]

Imaginary friend wrote:
>Disappointingly corny Geoffrey.

i'm too yellow to respond properly to this

[Andrew McGeever]

I'm comforted to be told by Geoffrey that I'm not the "evil rascal" to which he referred in a previous post. Yet I suspect he feels that "64" is evil per se.
Regarding Imaginary friend, I'm intrigued that your reading of someone's message in cyberspace can remind you of a real person

Andrew.

[Geoffrey]

Andrew McGeever wrote:
>I'm comforted to be told by Geoffrey that I'm not the "evil rascal" to which he referred in a previous post. Yet I suspect he feels that "64" is evil per se.


praise and criticism. one is pleasant the other uncomfortable. one encourages, the other stifles. one stagnates creativity while the other makes it evolve. a poem crawls out from the grey vacuum of a neurological ocean, grows legs and like a newborn calf learns to walk - only to evolve into a t-bone steak and then excrement swirling through pipes on its way back to square one. the good news is that while a back is only as strong as the most decrepit vertibrae in the spine, a poet is as good as the best poem in his work, and his readers but little sparrows sitting on the bench as he eats a sandwich. you suspect that i feel your poem is 'evil', andrew, just as i suspect there is a sketch in a piece of charcoal, an igloo in a snowcloud. does one need to embrace religion or theology to be persuaded that the very essence of nature is 'evil'? look at the head of the shy young dandelion. rays of sunlight caress its green bee-hive hair-do until coaxing out its beautiful golden face. then the wind blows away its new white afro hairstyle and it stands like a naked flagpole before finally drooping its head like christ on the cross. beware of people who only praise a poet's work, because they will stunt literary developement. had leonard cohen only received good reviews for 'beautiful losers' he might never have crawled out of that ocean and walked into a recording studio.

[Andrew McGeever]

praise and criticism. one is pleasant the other uncomfortable. one encourages, the other stifles. one stagnates creativity while the other makes it evolve. a poem crawls out from the grey vacuum of a neurological ocean, grows legs and like a newborn calf learns to walk - only to evolve into a t-bone steak and then excrement swirling through pipes on its way back to square one. the good news is that while a back is only as strong as the most decrepit vertibrae in the spine, a poet is as good as the best poem in his work, and his readers but little sparrows sitting on the bench as he eats a sandwich. you suspect that i feel your poem is 'evil', andrew, just as i suspect there is a sketch in a piece of charcoal, an igloo in a snowcloud. does one need to embrace religion or theology to be persuaded that the very essence of nature is 'evil'? look at the head of the shy young dandelion. rays of sunlight caress its green bee-hive hair-do until coaxing out its beautiful golden face. then the wind blows away its new white afro hairstyle and it stands like a naked flagpole before finally drooping its head like christ on the cross. beware of people who only praise a poet's work, because they will stunt literary developement. had leonard cohen only received good reviews for 'beautiful losers' he might never have crawled out of that ocean and walked into a recording studio.

Geoffrey isn't "evil", neither am I nor Leonard Cohen.

In the passage I quote lies the germ of a poem. Geoffrey should do it.