an old writer and his words

  • ON HER TERMS

    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

  • GRANDMOTHER’S RULES

    My grandmother covered allher upholstered furniture in plasticthat stuck to your bare skin in summerand was always cold in winter.She said she did not wantto get the fabric stained, thatpeople could be easily cleanedjust like plastic slipcovers.I asked her why she did notcover the rug, an off-white plush,in plastic and she chuckled,“because, grandson, crumbsneed a…

    Lou Faber

  • A SUMMER EVE

    I can’t remember what year it was,or why I was in his apartment, halfsprawled across the sofa, my girlfriend sitting with his,or one of his, he had many,on the floor, listening to Inside Bert Somers, and thinkingthat was the last place on earthI intended to go  that evening. I recall the wine was good, butthen anything a…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AWAKENING

    Take one partGrand Marnier, oneFrangelico, a short cupof coffee, whipped creamonly if you wish,curl on the sofawith your life’sgreatest loveand your firstreal, truly yourfirst Christmas Evemakes you wonderwhy you waitedso long. First published in The Poet: Christmas (2020 United Kingdom)

    Lou Faber

  • SUNDAY MORNING

    It is Sunday we sit in the living room each with our lattes she brushing the cat. I sat on the sofa with the Sunday Times. We are listening to radio Hele Norge, unsure why, the Norwegian caroming around our ears, the speakers noticing nothing different. We’re not quite sure how the weather is in…

    Lou Faber