an old writer and his words

  • LEFT UNANSWERED

    NOTE: TODAY’S POST FOLLOWS BELOW: Dear poetry-lovers,           Thank you from the bottom of my heart for following my blog. Some of you have been daily readers since it began 9 years ago, some are more sporadic or more recent followers.  Thank you one and all. As you can imagine, it takes a fair amount…

    Lou Faber

  • PERIODICALLY

    Periodically we go to see the birdsin their natural habitat, which we knowis not natural for we have taken so muchof it for our own and left them what weimagine their habitat should look like.We assume the birds do not watch usstanding there gawking, trying notto disturb them from what they are doing.We do not…

    Lou Faber

  • DO THEY CARE?

    I cannot begin to imagine what the birds that overtake our small wetland each evening must think of us. They must know we stare at them as they congregate in the last light of the departing sun. I do know they flaunt their freedom, moving through the sky at one moment gracefully, at another with…

    Lou Faber

  • TANKA, TANKA, HAIKU

    The dawn sky arrivesvelvet blue on my fingersand the gathered birdshear the cobalt song of dayin this our private heaven On this sapphire nightstars search for the missing moonthe blue sky of dawnis still deeply in hidingfrom night’s moment of glory Oceans remembera time before we arrivedtheir once deep blueness

    Lou Faber

  • BUFFET

    At first there is one, a sentinelbut for what isn’t clear. He isthe first of his kind we have seenin quite some time, so we stare.Soon a few, others appear,then five, ten, the number keepsgrowing and all in white as ifthis was a wedding and wedid not get the invitation.But we soon realize that thisis…

    Lou Faber

  • JAPANESE POEMS

    They watch the heronhe wonders what it is liketo be able to fly She gently smiles back knowing he would never leave the safety of earth. Wading birds are stillignoring the frequent rainsthe wet season now

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT AGAIN

    It is well past midnight and outsidethe birds and frogs in the wetlandannounce the rain, unnecessary really,as it beats a steady rhythm on the roofand windows, pierced onlyby claps of thunder and the lightningwhich gives them short announcement.The light dances through the closedwindow blinds on what ought to bean ink black night, and I knowthe…

    Lou Faber

  • IF ONLY

    Were we birds we wouldhave our talons dug so deeplyinto the soil, our wings unableto lift us into a waiting skyfrom our gravitation prison.The egrets peer down at usfrom a thousand hued blue skycloudless again this dayas a maleficent sun glaresdown on us as we slowlybake in the oven we createdby our malfeasant stewardshipof nature’s…

    Lou Faber

  • GOOD MORNING

    The wetland isno longer wet a burgeoning forest of Carolina WillowThe birds that nested hereby the multiple dozens that overnighted by the thousands have moved on.But each morning I arise to the call of the Limpkin the closest thing we have to a rooster.

    Lou Faber

  • BEAUTY

    The rose no more knowsits own beautythan the chrysanthemumdoes its scent.The birds will carry the seeds,the bees will pollinate the flowersbut it is left to usto recognize the abject beautynature willingly unfoldsbefore us, it is ourEden, small momentsof perfection which weso often ignore, which weunthinkingly lay waste to,and we who must learnto mourn what we…

    Lou Faber