an old writer and his words

  • THAT VOICE

    It is often little more thana faint whisper, distant, butnagging, on occasion in the voiceof a parent now long dead.You can strive to ignore it,may have momentary successin that endeavor, but it willrecur when you think that ithas finally been banished.It is persistent and that, morethan anything, is what makes itso irritating for you know…

    Lou Faber

  • BANISHED

    Yet again this morningthere was a shadowclosely following me. When I turned, it stoodin front of me, daring meto do something I guess. When I asked it whoit was, it said I am youyou dottering old man. I told it that such a liedefied belief, for it wasfar taller than me. It was about to…

    Lou Faber

  • THE ANCIENTS

    Night and the ancients retreatto a dark corner of their celestial prisonfrom the promised arrivalof the yellow dwarf from whichthey know we demand a presence. We ignore the ancients now,ignore those who cast theminto their prison, ignorethe acts for which they werebanished, care only to name them,and they know that our recognitionis their only grasp…

    Lou Faber

  • OF DREAMS

    I am now of an agewhere I can no longer rememberwhat terrors gripped my sonsin their dreams, causing themto appear beneath our blankets,I relegated to the bed’s edge. Perhaps there were noneand I was destined to bean edge sleeper, the boystaking advantage as a jokeplayed out night after night. I know what dreams nowcan rip…

    Lou Faber