Got a Leonard Cohen poem?
That, stupidly, rhymes. But the Foundation for Public Poetry is seriously looking for Leonard-Cohen-inspired-poetry-submissions for an anthology dedicated to his 75th. Deadline July 12:
Leonard Cohen – You’re Our Man
CALL FOR POETRY SUBMISSIONS
In honour of Leonard Cohen’s 75th birthday (September 21, 2009,) the Foundation for Public Poetry/Fondation Poésie Publique is seeking submissions of poetry (poetic responses) based upon Leonard Cohen’s poetry. A maximum of seventy-five poems will be selected for this publication.
The publication is a fundraising initiative to help support the commencement of a Leonard Cohen Poet-In-Residence program at Leonard’s old high school(Westmount High.)
All submissions will be considered to grant the Foundation for Public Poetry first serial rights. Submissions should include a note of reference to the Cohen poem which the author is responding to. Authors should also include a three-line biography and complete contact information.
For more information, please email: publicpoetry@gmail.com
Deadline for submissions is July 12, 2009.
I Heard Your Voice
I heard your sultry voice call from within
As the lyrics of your song, pulled me to the end
The end of all life’s promises and you called it a dance
The end of all the beginnings and left me in a trance
Captured by your words I danced in all the tunes
Coupled with the loves, remembering the swoons
Of past held moments christened with the kisses
All the promises of love, all the near life’s misses
Dance, me to the end of love, you sang
With a voice so lulling me closer again
Dance me to the end, the end of love
You sang, dance with me to the end…
Christine McNeill-Matteson
Cohen’s Carnival
I want you
to remember my presence
like a carnival, pitched
in the verdurous
provinces of my body,
where gypsy clouds foam in fair weather,
and the peak of the Ferris wheel
holds you before
all that you ever wanted to see
above and beyond
the price of admission.
A Angel came from haven yesterday
Open my eyes to see you reflecting God s light
There is a hope in everything where the light comes thorought
And is got to be you
Im your soon
Wow, thanks for your poems! Hope you guys also submit them to Public Poetry. I still have to start mine.
Lightning Bugs
I have been eating lightning bugs
My lips dribble green light
I am waiting for the moon to come low enough
To take a bite
i wouldn’t be a poet if i was on tv
i wouldn’t be a poet if i had a cv
i wouldn’t be a poet if i liked talking to god on bended knee
i wouldn’t be a poet if you opened your legs for me
i wouldn’t be a poet if i wasn’t a kid
i wouldn’t be a poet if i was a fancier breed
i wouldn’t be a poet if i didn’t smoke weed
this wouldn’t be a poem indeed
sweetly
the vault of heaven
cracked
and tumbled ’round
your troubled sleep
providing
delicate reason
for a sigh
of disbelief
then standing
with the weeping mother
of jesus
at his feet
you turned
and cast your lot
among the romans
without grief
This is great, lots of good poetry here. I was just writing one about Leonard last night. I had written one way back in the 70s about him, but my 30-plus years of writing and musical compositions were all stolen from me, hard copy, recordings, everything. I wish I could recall the one I wrote before, all I can remember of it now is this line:
I’ve touched your soul, as you’ve touched mine
He has touched all of us, hasn’t he, and allowed us to touch his too. Long live Leonard!
For my daughter who understands his poetry.
The moment has come
After twenty years of boredom along came twenty four more
It’s 21st of December 2012 – I wait with suitcase by the door
Exouds is like police stakeout hidden in trash cans of the slum
Fair thee well absolite plans and ideologies-the time has come
I must leave this Manhaberlin, home of brave corporate blunders
I must walk through Garden followed with curses and thunders
I must walk the desert’s lonely mile times myriad and one, so
I must crash in disbelief, let body die and desperation grow
The moment has come and none shall remember what I did
The belly of desert snake shall keep all of me perfectly hid
And my body will lie there with thumb in ever hungry mouth
aching to resurrect as B-movie mutant, yearning to come out
(Inspired with „First We Take Manhattan“)
Aleksandar Novaković
Ljuba Vučkovića 11
11 000 Beograde
Serbia
00381644335727
alnov75@yahoo.com
If Hitler comes back at 7: am.
If Hitler comes back
He will be friendly to cats
Walking the mid night hour
He will use the phone
In a yellow light
His voice lighting up the night
He will dress up in brown
To walk from the frame
Of his canvas world
He will sniff the smoking pipe
Air of brunt sienna
Armies of men will carry night
Caught between their shoulders
An iron cross of tie pins
Will flood the tinkle shops
Of Denver
When Hitler comes back
Gulls will fly in sky
Caught between open windows’
Yellow night
Children shall draw
Consternations of stellation
On the sky.
INTELLECTUAL AND EROTIC ADVENTURES
A poem in honor of Leonard Cohen (specifically in response to his poem “Here We Are at the Window”)
“We are the order
of style, we are pure
style called to delight
a fold of the sky.”
Do you hear those I’s
dismissing themselves
in the sleek stylis-
tics of sound, the calm
matrices of un-
naming, the wild free-
dom of excessive
solitude, a bro-
ken sandal strap, a
warm guitar, and wine?
Intellectual
and erotic ad-
ventures, rise from your
hiding places in
the bare rooms of past
diligence, of craft
married to longing,
of the occult rites
of love cried away
with a smile. Then, give
over, gently, the
freedom of your pain,
the temptation of
your honor. Sing me,
L. Cohen, that song,
the one that re-sounds
“the eyes and hidden
mouths of stone and light
and water.” Thank you.
–Brian Nowlin
A poem with response to a number of Cohen songs/poems
I try to capture
the words for these lines
but there are no guarantees
that they are stolen
from a man
who has sentenced me
to forty years of longing.
I hear the master sing
but I try to leave
before he goes clear
sincerely
P Needham.
Tribute to Leonard Cohen
by Ermengarde Tenderstone
copyright 2009 by Ermengarde Tenderstone
—————————————–
You danced me to the first encounter back in ’74
Suzanne and Marianne were there, soon Nancy closed the door
Strangers, Jesus, jokers, dealers, burning violins
You danced me and I said, “Come in”
Master, partisan and Joan of Arc and Isaac too
Queen Victoria, Alexandra, introduced by you
Eyelids in the rain beyond the sleepy golden storm
Beauty broken down but warm
Chelsea number two, conception, birthright unto me
Looking through the semi-precious stone you gave so free
Guests and birds upon the wire, gathering around
Soothing me, the gentle sound
I dreamed about you baby, seeing you were mostly light
I saw the winter lady, she was beautiful and bright
Comforted by sisters with their mercy flowing free
Loving how you sang for me
Jane came by and handed me a precious lock of hair
Taken from the golden-throated bard from over there
Teacher, can you teach me hallelujahs that fulfill?
Teach me if it be your will
Saving all my ribbons like a knight from some old book
Feeding all the hunger like a worm upon a hook
Building up my desert house and keeping records well
Sweet upon my ears you fell
If it be your will I’d like to find my way to see
The place you had referred to as the house of mystery
You sang your song but told no lies, your words rang ever true
I found in them a sense of you
Who by by water, who by fire, who by brave ascent?
How can I convey just what your words to me have meant?
Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon the sea
And you’re a light that shines on me
Having tea and oranges, you have no idea just what
That brings to mind for me from way beyond a door that’s shut
I went into a hospital where none were well although
You always let your beauty show
I just submitted my poem today. It was written especially for this publication, so is very new to me. Now to wait and see what happens.
Well, Bob, have you added it here? I’d sure enjoy seeing it. Yes, wait and see, and good luck!!
Yes, G-d was a monkey
When he intro’d you to me
You should be 37
But you were f***ing 73!
Hidden in a shawl of sorrow
Entangled in loss and longing
Singing healing threads
to weave a new fabric of existence
In the tower of song
Who by poetry?
Who could have told me what it would cost and what I’d get
For all of the joys and sorrows that I hadn’t even known yet
For all the ways I would feel my young heart swell and break
For the tiny temporary rewards & all the hard work they’d take?
Who could have told me, when my family dubbed me dead?
Who could have told me, while I sat alone in dread?
To whom could I have gone to pour my worries in their ears?
Who’d even begin to understand the depths of my love & fears?
Who but your voice, when I was 17 and lying in his bed
Through his stereo, his arms, and your words into my head
Those words told me someone understood how I was “pinned”
The voice echoed my positioning & frequencies within
I had a source, a light through the darkness around me
I had an elder who had been there & left a map in poetry
Through your books and songs I found points “You are Here”
I felt comforted & prepared for the dark delights now clear.
Who but you could have taught me to love love for what it is?
Who but you, and how could I ever return such a great service?
Thank you!
And Happy Birthday
nice
and here is the photoblog of this legend,cohen ;
http://leonardcohenphotos.wordpress.com/
I love the pics at the photo blog posted below, and some fantastic poems here too! I was just reading about Cohen on another post, namely where he derived the inspiration and influence for the gorgeous lyrics he came up with. Also looked at his infloox page (see links at that blog post) and was surprised to see that so many of his influences come from literature instead of music…