an old writer and his words

  • NEXT STOP

    It is small, dark and desolate,tucked away in a cornerthat no one wants to visit.They all stop there, as required,but only rarely does anyoneget off and it always seemsa sudden, reluctant decision.Most don’t even peer out the windowswhen it stops there, they averttheir gaze wondering if anyonewill rise to leave, not wantingto be seen looking,…

    Lou Faber

  • BALLET OF THE GODS

    Once they pierced your heelsto hobble you, bound upfeet and ankles to lashyou to the earth, there weren’tangels then, no wings, just the painof toes crushed inward,the silent agony of motion,a cruel joke played by godsstarved for entertainment.But Terpsichore, hearingErato’s song, set them freebrought them to a pointe,allowed them to take winglessflight, and toes became…

    Lou Faber

  • PLATFORM

    They said it was essential for a writer to have a substantial platform, one built high enough to be easily seen by those passersby who might just give a passing glance, even if it was a typo landed them here, updated, regularly changing with time, tide, and fashion always ready, always accommodating. It must be…

    Lou Faber