an old writer and his words

  • WHOSE FAULT?

    You lay on the lanai paversin the shadow of the tableunder the watchful eyeand ever prodding pawof the cat into whose territoryyou have so boldly encroached.You say that it is not the faultof your kind that ours were evictedfrom the Garden, and of courseyou are correct, but it no longerreally matters, does it, allof us,…

    Lou Faber

  • HOPE, YET

    There is a certain pleasurein reading obscure biographiesof the decidedly lesser lightsof their respective fields.Inevitably a writer assiduouslystruggles to avoid mentionof the great men and womenwho define the discipline,and the books are shorter,for even if their lives were visitedby great trials, and even ifthey overcame obstacles,we all know they ascendedonly so far, and we,at the…

    Lou Faber

  • MESA

    This nightin cold moonlightearth rises upclouds float downghosts walk the margin.Old ones singnow shall be thenolder ones still singthen shall be onceto wolf and coyote.In this season of north windssun’s heat barrenspirits rise updreams descendman lies interspersed.Women singwe are bearersmen singwe are sowers. First appeared in Dipity, Vol. 3, April 2023

    Lou Faber

  • PRAVDA

    If I was in Russia Iwould have no problemfinding a title for this poemfor it would be The Last. I would write that I mournthe children, men, and womensacrificed to assuage hiswarped need for domination. I would write that I detesthis disregard of truth,supplanting it with his liesto justify his megalomania. I would write that…

    Lou Faber

  • KYIV

    From the moment it began, we knew, it wasobvious that peace and freedom were under assault,Russia had thrown societal norms to the wind. Under gunmetal gray skies they attacked by air,killing women, children, destroying hospitals, homesraining hell on the innocents with nowhere to turn.All we could do was watch, pray and offer paltry aidin the…

    Lou Faber

  • COMING BACK

    He appears, rising from the horizonthe sun at his back, as if a miragetaking physical shape and form. He approaches slowly, your eyesstraining to separate himfrom the sun’s growing glow. You wonder if his is a holy manrobed and with a staff, walkingto announce his long awaited return. As he grows closer, you realizehe is…

    Lou Faber

  • ONE DAY

    We stood trapped betweenslack-jawed and reverentlooking at the woman sittingcross-legged outside the doorwaylovingly fashioning a pot,her gnarled fingers gentleon the yielding clay. Others this day fashionedrings and pendantssimple tools on silverand one of a kind treasuresthey would lay outon blankets hoping wewould want morethan just a photograph. Our day on the Taos Puebloended too early,…

    Lou Faber

  • WAR (an acrostic)

    SOMETIMES A POEM CANNOT WAIT From the moment it began, we knew, it was obvious that peace and freedom were under assault, Russia had thrown societal norms to the wind. Under gunmetal gray skies they attacked by air, killing women, children, destroying hospital, homes raining hell on the innocents with nowhere to turn. All we…

    Lou Faber

  • PURSE AND WALLET

    A woman’s purse is inviolable territoryshe tells me, and no man dare look withinunless invited and that is as unlikey to happenas a man is to fully understand a woman. What she doesn’t say, but what time hasdemonstrated to me repeatedly, is thatwithin that small space is the solutionto most of life’s pressing problems, a…

    Lou Faber

  • LBD PLEASE

    She says every woman should own a little black dress, and during the time she tries them on I am thinking what she meant was every man should be married to and in love with a woman who wears a little black dress as well as she does, but I say It looks really nice…

    Lou Faber