an old writer and his words

  • HER REALM

    The child carefully packsthe sand into the red bucketand dreams of the castle sheis building, the one in whichshe can be the princess.Her parents know the tidewill soon carry her castle awayand with it her dream, but theydo not stop and wonder whylittle girls always dream of beingprincesses and never queens,for mothers of little girlsare…

    Lou Faber

  • A RUNG TOO HIGH

    He is fully stuck on the hornsof a dilemma from which hecan see no way to extricate himself.He needs to get up on the roofand patch the hole beforethe storm shortly arrives full force.The old wooden ladder that hasbeen lying along the sideof the house is far too heavy for himto maneuver into position and…

    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

  • WHY, OH WHY

    He was awash in questions. What, he wanted to know, did they use to cut the mustard? A knife seemed excessive, or did they mean some lesser powdered spice. Why was the cat in the bag? How do you learn anything by bruising your hand on books? Do buckets cause foot infections that kill you?…

    Lou Faber

  • ODE TO PATIENCE

    The jetty is replete todaywith tourists, pale as the sunbleached concrete, stoppingto gawk at the fishermenwho ignore them intenton watching the sadly still line. The pelicans sit on the rocksgrooming and posing, talkingloudly on occasion beforespreading wings and flying off.Out on the jetty a pelican waitspatiently for the fishermanto pack up for the day, knowinghe…

    Lou Faber

  • OR CUT BAIT

    They sit or stand patientlyon the jetty, a concrete pathjutting out into the ocean. The old timers have twolines out, bait bucketsitting in the bicycle-wheeledcart parked on the edgeof the jetty’s bouldered margin. You don’t ask what they’vecaught, that would be obvious,and you know they are here forthe act of fishing, and the catchis that…

    Lou Faber