an old writer and his words

  • MOVING ON

    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

  • FORESHADOWING

    In my dream we are sittingin a small Italian restaurant.Just where it is located isnot at all clear, but it doesnot matter in the least.I am peering at you overthe menu, you are simplyreading yours decidingon what you will order.We have been here beforeand I know we will beholding hands acrossthe table once we order.I…

    Lou Faber

  • HOME

    I don’t know what I expected to findstanding on the corner of a residential streetin Charleston, West Virginia, the domeof the capitol peering up in the distance.That is not surprising, the orange brick homewas much larger than I had assumed, but youlived there only a few years before leavingQuarrier Street to start a life of…

    Lou Faber

  • PAYMENT DUE

    He only wanted to be forgotten, heput on mask after mask seekingthe anonymity that celebrity denied.There he was satanic, freely condemnedfor thoughts he shared that gratedon their sense of self-worth, their egos,and here almost angelic, if not to betrusted, no one knowing which he was realand which a carefully crafted veneer.Still he found neither solace…

    Lou Faber

  • TY NEWYDD

    In the gently aging house,replete with writersthere are endless roomsin which the muse dartsdispensing her soul.I prefer to sit with the catcurled in an overstuffed chairher head risingand falling imperceptiblyour breaths harmonic.We commune in unspoken dialoga language of silencebespeaking volumesof our shared existence. First published in The River, Sandy River Review, March 2024https://sandyriverreview.com/2024/03/30/seeing-you-again-next-stop-riding-ty-newydd/

    Lou Faber

  • URBAN DREAMS

    The city crawls beneath youlike so many beasts awakenedin your recent nightmare, skitteringto somewhere you dare not imagine.This is not your city, it could never be,for cities are mere illusions, veneersfor prisons from which few escapeand fewer still are paroled, andyour sentence only ends in your death.Some say cities are beautiful, butyou know they are…

    Lou Faber

  • PAY UP

    Look carefully, focus, is thata cathedral of dreams on the horizonor a nightmare future that flowsinexorably toward you, withno escape route, the priceof waiting too long, of assumingit wouldn’t happen here, itwouldn’t happen to you, couldbe wished away, could beignored without peril.What last prayers will youoffer to a God deaf to you,whose prophets you spurned.This…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT THAT

    A writing teacher I admireonce told me that my truecreative self would only beunleashed if I stoppedwriting about what I knewand began writingabout what I didn’t know.I knew what he meantbut I can be a literal soulall too often, with yearsof practicing law and inthat state of mind I knewI was doomed to failurefor if…

    Lou Faber

  • JAILER

    The purpose of a photograph is simplyto capture a memory, to imprison itmore accurately, to allow it to bewhere you can always find it. Never mind that any prisonergrows prematurely old, losesvitality, slips down a slope thatinevitably result in death . Often, the photo will fade, losecolor as the event slips intothe fog of time,…

    Lou Faber

  • CHARLESTON, WV

    Half of me, according to the twistedstrands of deoxyribonucleic acid,has its roots in Liskovo, which would bea simple matter were there not townsby that name in Poland and Belarus,and none in Lithuania, the language of my genes. All of this is preparatory to my visitnext week to the city where my mother,grandparents and great grandparentsare…

    Lou Faber