Part One:::Bardian Angel
Leonard Cohen sang, oh, so softly,
in basement suites of nineteen sixty seven,
reassuring dreams for love so sweet,
on earth, below starlight and heaven.
Teenaged time unravelled with uncertainty,
between the sheets and war on fire,
answers were elusive, and sad at times,
searching laws and trails of desire.
Moaning called our hearts in the mourning,
gave us coffee at the brinks of noon,
we would never catch all of his poems,
the lock key, his silver spoon.
Part of life is a brilliant equation,
part of life a mocking bird flight,
we held close for personal salvation,
in turmoil, within humanities plight.
Leonard’s bands were effortlessly willing,
three women, angels, backed up time,
harmonic pleasures offered in beauty,
his sculpted words offered up the rhyme.
We found grace by his mellow baritone,
we found brilliance in a knowing grin,
we found love round every turnstile,
we found peace, as it might have been.
Twisting on our fragile barstools,
dancing on flowered beds,
finding the blues of azure sky,
falling leaves dressed crimson red.
Scattering, brilliant scattering,
the sharps over “muse”ical flats,
howling hums of majestic pleasures,
rounding up, players, beatnics and cats.
Truly pour me thick swirling stout,
give me burgers with sides of fries,
no time to fight every rebellion,
elbowing, pushing back the stagnant lies.
Way past the quarter centuries,
commonly known as twenty five,
spinning beyond hard rent and taxes,
finding buddha and queens of jive.
There reclines lost separation,
skull brains and body shape,
a caress, a waltz, a fragrant kiss,
whole heartedly for lover’s nape.
Waiting below the street lamps,
paints drying on the page,
Leonard Cohen twisted pretty pens,
becoming our charming, lovely, sage.
An elder played the crosswords,
poetry sailed by sultry bay,
we lined up for prayers of common sense,
finding meanings and what to say.
You snare me in the morning,
arpeggio me late at night,
we be pleased, honouring your passing,
taking turns to take last flight.
You named us, all, your darlings,
we heeded your misty calls,
we regarded deceptive mirrors,
and wondered in your humble halls.
Pianos harkened so softly,
quiet cellos bathed our sin,
collaborations were just a beginning,
below bent roofs of hammered tin.
Suffering old traps, wild circumstance,
twisting, shouting, relentless storm,
contracts becoming worthless paper,
finding true love, way passed forlorn.
Youth will always include themselves,
beyond the trails of senior grace,
tired of the bleak war machine,
and promises of outer space.
Scream at us oh saxophone,
polish off our tired rust,
we’re roaring down cold dead-end streets,
stop sighs of suspect trust.
Step out all you dancers,
tired as the trodden moon,
viewing from crumbling watch towers,
falling by the way side, oh too soon.
We explored in Leonard’s Summer,
he fell quietly in the fall,
we will stay the path of his poetic charm,
Leonard, hold us beyond enthral.
Leonard, hold us,
hold us beyond enthral.
“Begin to live your life according to you aspirations and step towards your chosen goal. Play on the instrument of the heart even if it be broken.”