an old writer and his words

  • HARLECH CASTLE

    I stood on the rampartsthat cold, wet morninglooking out over the waitingIrish Sea, this day offeringonly rain and a November chill. Write haiku, she said to usand I thought of Bashoand Issu who never stoodon a 13th Century Welshfortress and never imaginedwriting about Llywelyngreat or not nearly so. In the rain and chillI scribbled furiously,retreated…

    Lou Faber

  • ASK OF THE SEA

    When you ask me of the sea,living, as I do, fifteen milesfrom the nearest ocean, itis not the sandy beachesof Hutchinson Island I recall,nor the crowded sandboxthat is Fort Lauderdale’s beach. If you ask me of the sea,it is perched on the horizon,far in the distance, lookingout of the kitchen window,or perhaps that of the…

    Lou Faber