an old writer and his words

  • UNSAID

    There is so much you wish to sayand yet silence envelopes youwhile those who spoke are led away and you feel a moment’s dismayat what you were forced to do.There is so much you wish to say Gods and men you would inveighbut it was not your lot they drewwhile those who spoke are led…

    Lou Faber

  • SO, WHAT DID YOU THINK?

    In a few momentsgive or take, the story will end.If you haven’t been paying attentionthe ending will makeno more sense to youthan the rest of the story.You may be asked whyyou came to see it, whatyou thought of it and youwill offer some amorphous commentsif you go with the flowof the conversations around you.I will…

    Lou Faber

  • PLACE NAME HERE

    Among all of the so-called artswriting does stand alone.How often have you seen arthanging on gallery wallsand look at the card next to itto see what the work is calledand find that all too uniquitous title,UNTITLED, as if the artist’s powerof language escaped into his brushes.And let’s not talk about composer’swhose work is later numberedand…

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY I COULD

    I keep thinking about the songI would’ve writtenif only I had learnedto play guitar instead of piano.It is just that a melodyon a piano, for me at least,would always have leaned classicaland I truly hated Schubert’s leiderso I never even thought of trying.Still, even with my limited voiceI could’ve been Leonard Cohensave his time as…

    Lou Faber

  • LET LIE

    A friend once told meto write down my dreamsfor they are a window intothe deepest corners of the psyche.Nevermind that much of the timeI cannot begin to remembermy dreams once awake,but those corners were darkfor a reason, and sheddinglight into them will onlycause the creatures who live thereto scurry about and seek shelterin other hidden…

    Lou Faber

  • THE KEY

    “The key,” he said, “is to imbueyour work with poetic energy.”Those of us still botheringto pay attention at allto that empty husk of a oncewell-regarded, honored poethad no freaking idea whatthe hell he was talking aboutand we guessed he didn’t either.He was an easy A English courseand a few of us imagined ourselvesas successful writers,…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT THAT

    A writing teacher I admireonce told me that my truecreative self would only beunleashed if I stoppedwriting about what I knewand began writingabout what I didn’t know.I knew what he meantbut I can be a literal soulall too often, with yearsof practicing law and inthat state of mind I knewI was doomed to failurefor if…

    Lou Faber

  • TICK, TICK

    Ignore what the physicists tell you,for truth defies their neat lawsand time accelerates as you age.Stop and consider that the timeyou have left, however much it is,will, per unit of their measure,grow increasingly shorteruntil, of course, you have none leftand then it will cease to matter.So it is best to get on with living.Put aside…

    Lou Faber

  • TWO THAT AREN’T IRISH

    There once was a lad from Nantucketwho stuck his foot into a buckethe fell to the floorhit his head on the doorand touching it, said this is where I struck it. There once was a young lad from Des Moinesquite adept at the flipping of coinshe fleeced all his friendsleft them all at bitter endsand…

    Lou Faber

  • FINITO

    He always wondered how the story would end. He was tempted to read the last page of every novel he picked up but he realized that he would have a shelf full of books in no time at all, because once he knew the ending he wouldn’t, couldn’t bother to read the rest. He became…

    Lou Faber