an old writer and his words

  • LIONEL HAMPTON AND THE GOLDEN MEN OF JAZZ

    Blue Note, pardonour constructionblack paintedplasterboarda hangingair conditioning duct. Grady Tatesneering at the skinsgrowling at a high hathands shiftingdeftly reaching inpicking a beatand sliding itover the crowd. Jimmy Woodeblind to the lightsslides his fingersover stringsand talks to the bassresting on his shoulder.It sings backbegging , pleadingdemanding as his headsways with an inner vision. Junior Mancesways slowly…

    Lou Faber

  • WAR (an acrostic)

    SOMETIMES A POEM CANNOT WAIT From the moment it began, we knew, it was obvious that peace and freedom were under assault, Russia had thrown societal norms to the wind. Under gunmetal gray skies they attacked by air, killing women, children, destroying hospital, homes raining hell on the innocents with nowhere to turn. All we…

    Lou Faber

  • DIFFERENT TODAY

    The air we breathe is different today,and we inhale more deeplywith the energy of our youth. The tears we cry today are notsolely tears of loss and sorrow,but also of promise and hope. The wine that we drink todaywill be the same as before, butnow sweeter on the tongue. The sleep that we sleep tonightwill…

    Lou Faber

  • AFTER ALL

    After all that has happened,after all of the changestumbling one upon another,after breathing again new air,after ceding fear to hopewhen I sit down to write itall I have at the endis a small glass of snowin the middle of July.

    Lou Faber

  • ON WRITING

      All too often it is just a matter of tossing words into the air and wondering where, or even if, they land, and if they do, what we will find when they finally settle on the paper.

    Lou Faber