an old writer and his words

  • THE SEA

    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

  • BECAUSE

    The older man walks slowly downthe beach, each foot carefully placedto find a purchase the waves would take away.He shields his eyes from the sun, ignoresthe myriad shells the ocean offers up,does not bother to hear the song of the wavesthat soon will erase all evidenceof his presence here today.He walks along this beach becauseothers…

    Lou Faber

  • SEASIDE HAIKU

    The ocean singsof its abundant lifewe hear only waves On the tidal pondthe moon admires itselfno one will see it On the waterI cried a thousand tearsthe sea accepts them

    Lou Faber

  • ALMOST, NOT QUITE

    The rains finally came the other day,not the tropical storms that this seasonpromises, those will come laterwe are assured by the weathermenwho sometimes struggle to describewhat is happening outside their windows.It was the sort of rain we had almostforgotten during our tropical droughtwhich, yes, does seem like a contradictionin terms until you look at the…

    Lou Faber

  • SEASIDE

    The ocean wind sweeps through the citya sudden rain washes sidewalk, shop, and street,carries both dreams and sins back to the sea. For the young child time slides by easily,life a campaign that allows no retreat.The ocean wind sweeps through the city, rattles church windows, so that all can seethe priest stripped of dogma. Christ…

    Lou Faber

  • STORM

    We walked slowly alongfeet sinking in the sandafter waves swallowed the sun.We could smell its approachbefore the first winds sweptashore pushing sands againstbeach chairs turned for night.Two dogs ran over dunesknowing what would come,drawn by clatter of hammersplacing plywood shuttersover windows and doors.Clouds, an ebony pall, gatheredmocking, waiting for a momentwhen the lid would be…

    Lou Faber

  • Santa Cruz Wharf, September

    The quieter you becomethe more you can hear.— Baba Ram Dass Orion lies over the wharfstaring at the moon, danglinglike an unyielding eye, barring sleepwhile below the waves washonto the shore, licking the pilingsand tasting the sand, a calming roarbroken only by the barkingof the harbor seals.It is not a night for huntingthe bear has…

    Lou Faber

  • “Geography”

    People of the mountainare quiet, some say taciturnpreferring to listen for the cryof the eagle, wind whistlingits familiar tune through a passsnow rent from the facetearing down in a crystalline cloud. People of the shoremerge with the songof the waves, feel its tempopunctuated by the barkof the whale, the hornanchored in the harbor,the tavern disgorgingits…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY

    We only see the present as history,by day history is a matter of minutes,by night of seconds, years or centuries. There is no future to be seen, onlyimagined, the mind writing a storythat can never be read, never told. It is only when we close the eyesthat the present truly exists,independent of the past, free…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WAVES

    We, so far out at sea,see only the waves passing,the rise and fall, the rhythm,and cannot imagineit could be otherwise, You, on the shorecannot perceive the waveswe do, torn by the reefthat leaves you onlyimagining what you thinkthe waves might be. We cannot imaginethe silence, the isolationyou must feel in yourwaveless world withonly memory of…

    Lou Faber