an old writer and his words

  • JUST LIKE THAT

    “And just like that,” he said. “Just like that,” she replied. “Are you certain, I wouldn’t want to go off half cocked?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t almost certain, would I,” was her retort. “But almost certain isn’t absolutely certain,” he noted. “As you well know, nothing is absolutely certain…

    Lou Faber

  • IN ABSENTIA

    It is, I thinkher lips I miss mosttheir butterfly flutteracross my cheekthen her eyes, almost felinethat see withinbehind wallshastily erectedthat fall to her sight.It is all of thatand the whispered wordslinking heartsthat still echoas she slides into sleep.I cry out to Morpheusmy words are swallowedby the droneof the enginesthat fall as raininto the Sea of…

    Lou Faber

  • PIGGIES

    I have to stop and wonder ifthere is a parent alive whohasn’t gently pulled on the toesof achild too young to objectand recited “this little piggy.”And of course most children gigglebut not for the reason the parentssuspect or hope, but at the sightof a large person turning intoa somewhat ridiculous child.If they could comprehend justwhat…

    Lou Faber

  • UNDER FOOT

    Okay, let’s get some things straight once and for all. I don’t live in a shoe. It’s a work of modern architecture, a quite normal if unusual looking home,, and if you imagine it shoe-like, so be it. I’m not old, I’m 45, but with eight kids I am prematurely gray. It wasn’t broth I…

    Lou Faber

  • MASTER MA IS UNWELL

    Yesterday is but a shadowand tomorrow an illusion.Do not wallow in the mudof attempted memory, donot sink in the mireof deluded anticipation.Stop, listen to the sunand the moon singof the Dharma, hearthe silence it bringsfor you are alivein this moment,and there isno other momentin which you can live. A reflection on Case 3 of the…

    Lou Faber

  • NO HARRY

    There is no Houdini today, nomaster of escapology, only sleightof hand that cannot providea release from our self-made shackles, for we havefailed to learn the secretsthat might have saved us.We were stubborn, figured thatwe could solve the problem later,read a book, looked to a new masterbut those new masters have onlyperfected the art of illusion…

    Lou Faber

  • SERIOUSLY AMAZON?

    I am struggling to understandjust who is the target marketwith a thirty piece atof rubber ducks for the baththat Amazon wants to sell me.I did have a rubber duckyfor the bath when I was a childbut he was singular, and whenhe partially cracked and drownedI buried him in the backyardand vowed never to ownwaterfowl again,…

    Lou Faber

  • EDITOR

    The problem with having someoneedit your writing, particularlyif you are a poet, is thatthe moment they go beyond simplepunctuation or obvious grammarthey are writing their own poemand to some lesser or greater extentthe poem you gave them no longer exists.There may be something to be saidfor allowing that, for when theyreturn their poem and you…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT VISITOR

    Across Bedford Avenuein the fourth floor windowthe antique bird printis bathed in the lightof a Chinese ginger jar lamp.Her shadow dancesacross the wall, armswrapped tightly around herselfin the sway of Terpsichoresinging her melancholy song.I hear onlythe cacophony of the drunkon the cornerbraying to the moonand the rumbleof the lorryon Tottenham Court Road. First Published in…

    Lou Faber

  • AUTHORSHIP

    If birds could write, which birdwould write like which author.The Osprey would clearly be Hemingwayknowing the sea, but with no need for an old man.The common Gallinule might becomeBilly Collins, an easy laugh and always entertaining.The crows could be so many writersattending workshops, all still lookingfor a voice to express themselves withoutcausing their audience to…

    Lou Faber