an old writer and his words

  • A READING

    He walks up to the podiumsmiling at the introduction he wrotedelivered by someone who likelyhad never read his work, and set his bookand notes down on the lectern.As he begins to read he cannot let onthat he is a magician poet for theywould demand a trick and allthat he is prepared to do this nightis…

    Lou Faber

  • ON OCCASION

    There is a hidden dangerin being a poet that most people,other than fellow poets and some writers,have a problem grasping.Once you let it be knownthat you are a poet eventuallysomeone will ask you to writea poem for a special day or person.When this happens I gently tell themthat I cannot write occasional poetry.Inevitably they ask…

    Lou Faber

  • WRITER

    He knew he had the novel in him. He had no idea where it was hiding, but it was there and all he had to do was to find it. He had looked in most of the obvious places but all he had found was memoir and the odd bit of non-fiction. They were fine…

    Lou Faber

  • INTO THE INFERNO

    The teacher no doubt thought it was funny hanging a banner on the door to his classroom reading “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.” He would snicker as the new students would look at it with puzzled expressions while he remained silent. Some might even ask but he would always gnore or dismiss the question. That…

    Lou Faber

  • MEMO TO MEMOIR

    I will recitemy absurdist life,and do so without coercionsave my need to tell it.Imagine a new wave filmin French, perhaps,directed by Dali and youmay approach my truth.If this is beyond you, Idon’t care, do you?In the end it is youthe listener who writesmy story, my life,and I am merelythe pen and paper,the prompt, so pleasehelp…

    Lou Faber

  • A PAUSE

    Now just stop and imagineif one event in your youth had gonein a wholly different direction,where would you be today?Follow this alternative universebounded only by imaginationand such amount of logic as you choose,and create the framework of a lifethat never existed until that moment.If you wish, pick another event,and another until you havea cosmos of…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT AT THE ALLUSIVE TAVERN

    He had been sitting there for hours, days,how many “last calls” had he heard?He watched Beckett and Eliot come and gobut he sat waiting, patiently, no Godot for him.He had long since lost his now empty pen,his pockets grown stuffed with damp cocktailnapkins, the story of his life bleeding slowlyinto the worn fabric of the…

    Lou Faber

  • AI EH?

    Please be aware that this poemwas not generated by nor wasthe writing assisted by Generative AI.The words and thoughts are mine,and mine alone so there is no machineintelligence to take the blame forwhat I might or might not say.I wanted to assure you of thisand thought of ways I could insurethat you would believe me,…

    Lou Faber

  • SILENCE?

    You smile when you saythat my voice is muffled,that you cannot understand whatI am trying so hard to tell you.You have taken my tongue, the priceperhaps for saying what youmost do not want to hear.So you may laugh at me, atmy attempts to speak, but youwill never silence me for I canyell, I can write…

    Lou Faber

  • YOU ODE ME ONE

    I should write an ode to my catbut she claims all of the good oneshave already been written and shewould not settle for less than the best.She says I could write an odeto the television remote or eventhe microwave oven, but I noteto her that an ode is to someone,something worthy, beneficialand she nods in…

    Lou Faber