an old writer and his words

  • GRANDMOTHER’S RULES

    My grandmother covered allher upholstered furniture in plasticthat stuck to your bare skin in summerand was always cold in winter.She said she did not wantto get the fabric stained, thatpeople could be easily cleanedjust like plastic slipcovers.I asked her why she did notcover the rug, an off-white plush,in plastic and she chuckled,“because, grandson, crumbsneed a…

    Lou Faber

  • SEDOKA

    The stream slows its flowpast the park bench, now unusedawaiting the first snowflakes. The trout swims downstream for the lake, where the water gently yields its fading warmth. First Published in Fireflies Light, Issue 30, October 2024 (Missouri Baptist University)https://www.mobap.edu/about-mbu/publications/fireflies-light/

    Lou Faber

  • OCTOBER

    There is an infinite spaceAround us, a massive voidinto which universes tumbleand stars and planets are born.Outside, the maple leavesburning flame and crimsonspiral to the lawn, whichwaits to receive them.Autumn is the seasonwhen the earth prepares to dieand it is left to usto prepare the gravesite.The albino squirrel standson the fence rail, defyingme to find…

    Lou Faber

  • UNSHOVELING

    There is much to love here,not the least of which is the lackof snow always needing to be shoveledwhen your back is most sore,when you need to be somewhereon a schedule the clouds chose to ignore.But the one thing you cannot find,the thing you never expectedto be that which you most missis the polychromatic season.For…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT

    The night slowly encases the citythe river flows on toward the lakebirds shiver in the biting chill,the street light flickers and goes out,the wind whistles around the windows,snow begins to coat the trees’ bare branches,a squirrel looks up forlornly,the traffic light inexorably changes colors,TV’s flicker behind curtained windows,we slide beneath the blankets,sleep comes slowly to…

    Lou Faber

  • LILAC

    It is the season, I remember,when the clusters of flowersrip free of their cocoons andgrasp the warming sun, spewingout their sweet fragranceto bees and people alike.They know their time is short,turn riotous in pastel shadeswhite, pink, purple, lilacthey hope we will not soon forget.It was always like that, an annualrite of beauty that we havegiven…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITING

    I have a Chinese friendwho says I should write poemsabout pomegranates and chrysanthemums.A Japanese business acquaintance sayspoems should be populated by sakura and Lotus.I tend to think of their advicein the deadest days of winterwhen snow presses against the houseas if seeking its faint warmth.As I thinly sliced the tender shootsof bamboo and dampen the…

    Lou Faber

  • TWO HAIKU

    A lone ginkgo leafclings to the now barren branchdefying winter. Great blue Herons stareat the slowly passing cloudsobscuring their home.

    Lou Faber

  • RIDING

    A bicyclered Schwinnrust encirclingstem andheadset. Baseball cardsclippedto frameengagingturning spokesimagined motorspeeding downbuckling sidewalk. Skinned kneesbloody,wheel rimslightly bent,wishing suddenlyfor winter. First published in The River, Sandy River Review, March 2024https://sandyriverreview.com/2024/03/30/seeing-you-again-next-stop-riding-ty-newydd/

    Lou Faber

  • NOT HERE

    There were those January nights whenwinter wrapped us in its chill, but withdrewits frequent blanket of clouds, and Iwould go outside peering throughthe fog of my breath and lookinto the sky at the aurora borealis,watching the electrons danceon a black scrim dotted with myriad stars.Years later and miles away I missthe occasional night shows for…

    Lou Faber