an old writer and his words

  • MIRROR MIRROR

    The person I see each morninglooks vaguely familiar, perhapssomeone I once met in passing,or maybe a distant relative.But he was so much olderso he was difficult to place. I do say hello each morningbut get only a nod, a gesturein response, as if the personis mute, for he smiles backso it is not a silence…

    Lou Faber

  • WISHFUL

    “I will take it,”the aging poet saidto the ever more sparsecrowd at the weeklyopen mic,“as a recognitionis the growthin the qualityof my writingthat I continuebeing rejectedbut now by amuch higherquality ofliterary journals.”

    Lou Faber

  • ADIOS, ARRIVADERCI, SO LONG

    As he grew ever older he saidhe wanted a sudden unanticipated death,“In my sleep preferably” he addedwith an unmeant chuckle. It would be a good way to go,I imagine, but it denies thosewho will most mourn his passingthe chance to hope for a miracle. And no matter when it happens,if it is sudden it will…

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY

    As I have aged, I hopeI have gotten smarteror at least more ableto adapt to life’s issues. But there are still areaswhere knowledge fails,where you cannot hopeto attain what you want. World peace is one such,honest politicians another,and the list could go onbut you get the picture. The ultimate failure howeveris imagining that you can…

    Lou Faber

  • NO BACKS

    As you age, your vision changes,and not merely that of your eyes,for you necessarily becomenear sighted about many things. Of course you dread the fact that youcould be myopic if circumstancesconspire against you, barely ableto be IN and remember the moment. Even those healthy take to mythology,and astronomy, wishing they wereTitan, living life in retrograde,…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE STEP TOO FAR

    “As you get older,” he said,“the body grows remarkablyadept at telling you whenyou have done too much,or done something you shouldn’t.” What he didn’t say, the criticalpiece of advice I wish I heard,is that the body only speakswell after the fact, a lecturesurely, but never a warning. No one wants to go a stepshort, to…

    Lou Faber

  • A LOST PEN

    I wrote a poem for my father,about how one afternoonthe oddly green ’57 Caddyappeared in the drivewayand he polished its chrome for hours,even waxed the black bumper bullets.It was the love of his lifehe said, except for his wife,he added after a moment.The years would provethat addition was most likely false.I could send him the…

    Lou Faber

  • REMEMBER THIS

    He awoke this morning, and wassurprised to be there, he said,because when you are ninety,and can’t get around at all,you don’t look forward to tomorrow,for it will simply be a repeatof today when nothing will happen.And it is harder still, he says,because he can’t remember much anymore,so it’s hard to say if todayis any different…

    Lou Faber

  • PARENT AGE

    I have two mothers, now both dead,I have three fathers, one unknown, one buriedoutside Washington and one lostin a corner of his shrinking mind.I am growing older, I have achesand clicks and pops and groans,which each remind me that Iam aware and alive and thatisn’t a bad way to start a new day.

    Lou Faber

  • THE FUTURE HOLDS

    It should be more of a surprise,on this day that you turn ninetybut the mirror, as you see it,has you looking as you did twentytwo years earlier, and twentybefore that, unchanging in anymeaningful way, yet thosearound you laugh when youtell them what you believe. Not a day over sixty-eightyou say, and time to go offand…

    Lou Faber