Leonard Cohen – The God of Poetry

I could write an essay about Leonard Cohen and then turn it into a novel and then a TV series and then a movie with sequels and spin-offs, and finally into a board game and possibly a Ouija board… I could go on. To say that Leonard Cohen is my favourite poet is an understatement. Since I discovered him in my early twenties, my life has been profoundly influenced by him.

The first song I ever heard of his was “Democracy” from his album, The Future. Each line was an epiphany, and the lines below in particular were a punch to the gut which I have never forgotten:

From the homicidal bitchin’
That goes down in every kitchen
To determine who will serve and who will eat

That’s the power of Leonard Cohen. I have read all his novels and poetry books and have listened to almost all his songs. I twice visited the Greek island of Hydra, where he lived for 7 years, and walked the same paths that he did. I even met people who knew him from his time on the island.

Initially, his lyrics and voice were what drew me to him but what made me a committed fan was the way he conducted himself. Leonard Cohen was always well dressed, which made sense as his father was a high-end tailor, and the family owned a clothing empire. He made elegance look easy and he carried himself with dignity. He was never over the top or showy. I had never seen an artist like this before, and I wanted to emulate him.

He also never took himself too seriously. When he won the Juno Award for Best Male Vocalist of the Year in 1993, he famously stated, “It’s only in a country like this that I could get the Male Vocalist of the Year.” He was a Zen Buddhist monk and did not speak critically of others. On the one occasion where he publicly mentioned his sexual encounter with singer Janis Joplin in his song “Chelsea Hotel #2,” he called it his biggest indiscretion and wished he could take it back.

Leonard Cohen conducted himself with elegance and grace and for decades, created beautiful and accessible art. Even after his manager nearly bankrupted him in his seventies, he found the strength to release new albums and tour the world, yet another example of his genius. I was fortunate to see him twice in concert and I feel fortunate to have lived while he did. My poetry could not have happened without his influence and as a final gesture, I will be visiting his gravesite in Montreal to thank him personally – soon.

In the meantime, though this could be dozens of pages, I have listed some of his most memorable lines for me, a small offering for the God of Poetry…

Memorable Lines from Leonard Cohen’s Songs

Bird on the Wire
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch
He said to me, “You must not ask for so much”
And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door
She cried to me, “Hey, why not ask for more?”

True Love Leaves No Traces
Through windows in the dark
The children come, the children go
Like arrows with no targets
Like shackles made of snow

First We Take Manhattan
Ah, you loved me as a loser, but now you’re worried that I just might win
You know the way to stop me, but you don’t have the discipline

Field Commander Cohen
Urging Fidel Castro to abandon fields and castles
Leave it all and like a man
Come back to nothing special
Such as waiting rooms, ticket lines
Silver bullet suicides
And messianic ocean tides
And racial roller-coaster rides
And other forms of boredom advertised as poetry

Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you

So Long, Marianne
We met when we were almost young
Deep in the green lilac park.
You held on to me like I was a crucifix,
as we went kneeling through the dark.

Suzanne
Now, Suzanne takes your hand and she leads you to the river
She’s wearing rags and feathers from Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey on our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look among the garbage and the flowers

Closing Time
Yeah, we’re drinking and we’re dancing
But there’s nothing really happening
And the place is dead as Heaven on a Saturday night
And my very close companion
Gets me fumbling, gets me laughing
She’s a hundred, but she’s wearing something tight

Going Home
He wants to write a love song
An anthem of forgiving
A manual for living with defeat

Hallelujah
Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew ya

ETC., ETC., ETC. x 1000!!!