Melbourne, 2020
For Bill A
Reading Cohen on Christmas morning
Poems of love and loss and yearning
The book a gift
From my elder son
Given on Christmas Eve
Poems of love and desire
And mourning
For flesh, for touch, for skin
For heart, for meaning.
“As soon as I saw it,” said my son
“Knew it was the one, the only one.”
Reading Cohen on Christmas morning
The house asleep
The visitors coming
But not for hours
On the page
The words are as sparse
As in song
But no sounds
No guitar, no singing, no chords
Minor or otherwise
Ink, black ink
On space, white space
Space to ponder
Space to wonder
Space to wander in ignorance
Like millions of others
I’m a fan, not a scholar
No expert
No insights
But still a sense
That there’s something
In the way he moves words
Doesn’t need many
Three or four to a line sometimes
Reading Cohen on Christmas morning
House quiet
Visitors still distant
My son two hundred miles away now
With his partner and her family
You can’t be in two places at once.
Reading Cohen on Christmas morning
Poems of love and loss and yearning
Stereo Story #647
This poem was previously published in Canada by The Miramichi Reader
Seven more Leonard Cohen pieces
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Love this poem
Thanks Paul. Appreciate that.
Agreeing with Paul above. A lovely poem, with a gorgeous balance of honesty, beauty, brevity, and a poetic “yoink” to the heartstrings to finish. Utterly relatable, poignant and timely. Nice work, Vin. And wishing you and yours a safe, healthy and very happy holiday season. Merry Christmas mate!
– Bill.
Cracking poem Vin! This year it is only my wife and myself for Christmas dinner, the rest of the family are widespread though we catch up on the 28th. I have a copy of ‘The Flame’ ( a Christmas present from a few years ago) but I’m yet to fully read it. You’ve inspired me to take it out tomorrow morning and read some Cohen while preparing the Christmas lunch. Merry Christmas Vin!
Thanks Col. One of these days we might even cross paths. In person. In actuality. Til then, it’s kindred spirits via The Almaknackery.Cheers.
Your poem captures the “letting go” beautifully, Vin.
Merry Christmas.