Songs of Leonard Cohen
Songs of Leonard Cohen
I used this site to complete some information on my own site but I'm a little confused about the album "Songs of Leonard Cohen". When you click on discography it says the album was released in 1968... but when you click on the album it says 1967!
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I bought "The Songs Of Leonard Cohen" in 1967. Both the label and my memory serve me well. I think the album was released in the U.K. and elsewhere before it found its way to the United States of America. This was a long journey for a Canadian songwriter.
The circle in the centre of the vinyl tells me....it's 1967.
Andrew.
The circle in the centre of the vinyl tells me....it's 1967.
Andrew.
Songs of LC
I bought the songbook with 'Songs Of Leonard Cohen' and 'Songs From A Room' ~ 1970 and I still have it today. I still sing those songs for my own interest but rarely in performance. I could look up the publication date if you are interested.
Regards,
Regards,
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The Songs of Leonard Cohen
It is one of the most important releases in the 20thC.
Georges
Georges
I am a right bad ass, dankish prince and I love my Violet to bits.
- tom.d.stiller
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Dear Tom,
That poem has fascinated me for decades, as has the poetry of Robert Frost. I recall him reading at the inauguration of J.F.K., when he was clearly ill. They both died in 1963.
Paul Simon mentions Robert Frost in his gob-smackingly beautiful song "The Dangling Conversation", from his album "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme". I'll be happy to post the lyrics on the board, if that's O.K.
Yours,
Andrew.
That poem has fascinated me for decades, as has the poetry of Robert Frost. I recall him reading at the inauguration of J.F.K., when he was clearly ill. They both died in 1963.
Paul Simon mentions Robert Frost in his gob-smackingly beautiful song "The Dangling Conversation", from his album "Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme". I'll be happy to post the lyrics on the board, if that's O.K.
Yours,
Andrew.
- tom.d.stiller
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Dear Andrew,
this is my other Frost favorite...
Yours (with a malt in my left and a cohiba in my right)
Tom
this is my other Frost favorite...
"The Dangling Conversation" - it'd be great to see this "still life water color of a now late afternoon" posted here...THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Yours (with a malt in my left and a cohiba in my right)
Tom
Dear Tom ~
I remember reading this poem when I was a young girl. Upstairs in our house were built-in bookcases, rising 3-4 feet off the floor. I would go up there to sit on the floor and read from the books of poetry. My memories from those days are so precious that I'm guessing that's what led to my lifelong habit of sitting on the floor to read from books in bookstores. It's what feels most natural to me. I also feel most in touch with the books during those times. My preference are the ones with tall stacks, narrow aisles, and oriental rugs. I prefer going alone, so time spent and embarrassment to others are not issues.
We never know at that age how true such poems will be and what a roadmap to our lives they represent. How many times have we contemplated our roads not taken? Wonderful poem.
~ Elizabeth
I remember reading this poem when I was a young girl. Upstairs in our house were built-in bookcases, rising 3-4 feet off the floor. I would go up there to sit on the floor and read from the books of poetry. My memories from those days are so precious that I'm guessing that's what led to my lifelong habit of sitting on the floor to read from books in bookstores. It's what feels most natural to me. I also feel most in touch with the books during those times. My preference are the ones with tall stacks, narrow aisles, and oriental rugs. I prefer going alone, so time spent and embarrassment to others are not issues.
We never know at that age how true such poems will be and what a roadmap to our lives they represent. How many times have we contemplated our roads not taken? Wonderful poem.
~ Elizabeth
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Dear Tom, and others,
Firstly, let me say that "The Road Not Taken" is one of the most surprising of Robert Frost's poems: to this day, I'm not sure if the writer is in the woods looking out, or outside the woods looking in, yet the poem exudes the metaphor of choice. It is a strong and wonderful poem. I could say much more regarding this poem, (like volumes of words), but I won't: this is not the forum to analyse Frost's poetry.
However, I did write five lines of verse some years ago, in response to reading "The Road Not Taken", and I've unearthed it, and present it now..
A Poem
(for Robert Frost)
If readers see the bones in it,
are touched by growing flesh on it,
recall the echoed sounds from it,
the writer surely strived for it,
and yet remains surprised by it.
AND, (if Jarkko allows me to place another song-writer's lyrics on what is "The Songs of Leonard Cohen" string) please accept Paul Simon's beautiful song/poem entitled...
The Dangling Conversation
It's a still-life watercolour
on a now-late afternoon,
as the sun shines through the curtainlace
and shadows wash the room,
and we sit and drink our coffee,
couched in our indifference
like shells upon the shore;
you can hear the ocean roar...
in the dangling conversation,
the superficial sighs,
the borders of our lives....
and you read your Emily Dickenson,
and I my Robert Frost
and we note our place with bookmarkers
and measure what we've lost.....
like a poem poorly written,
we are verses out of rhythm
couplets out of rhyme,
in syncopated time....
and the dangling conversation,
and the superficial sighs
are the borders of our lives...
yes we speak the things that matter
with words that must be said:
can analysis be worthwhile?
is the theatre really dead?
and now the room is softly fading
and I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
you're a stranger now unto me....
lost in the dangling conversation
the superficial sighs
in the borders of our lives.
Paul Simon.
Tom, you asked for this one, and you've got it!
In terms of song-writing, this is a stoater!
As aye,
Andrew.
Firstly, let me say that "The Road Not Taken" is one of the most surprising of Robert Frost's poems: to this day, I'm not sure if the writer is in the woods looking out, or outside the woods looking in, yet the poem exudes the metaphor of choice. It is a strong and wonderful poem. I could say much more regarding this poem, (like volumes of words), but I won't: this is not the forum to analyse Frost's poetry.
However, I did write five lines of verse some years ago, in response to reading "The Road Not Taken", and I've unearthed it, and present it now..
A Poem
(for Robert Frost)
If readers see the bones in it,
are touched by growing flesh on it,
recall the echoed sounds from it,
the writer surely strived for it,
and yet remains surprised by it.
AND, (if Jarkko allows me to place another song-writer's lyrics on what is "The Songs of Leonard Cohen" string) please accept Paul Simon's beautiful song/poem entitled...
The Dangling Conversation
It's a still-life watercolour
on a now-late afternoon,
as the sun shines through the curtainlace
and shadows wash the room,
and we sit and drink our coffee,
couched in our indifference
like shells upon the shore;
you can hear the ocean roar...
in the dangling conversation,
the superficial sighs,
the borders of our lives....
and you read your Emily Dickenson,
and I my Robert Frost
and we note our place with bookmarkers
and measure what we've lost.....
like a poem poorly written,
we are verses out of rhythm
couplets out of rhyme,
in syncopated time....
and the dangling conversation,
and the superficial sighs
are the borders of our lives...
yes we speak the things that matter
with words that must be said:
can analysis be worthwhile?
is the theatre really dead?
and now the room is softly fading
and I only kiss your shadow,
I cannot feel your hand,
you're a stranger now unto me....
lost in the dangling conversation
the superficial sighs
in the borders of our lives.
Paul Simon.
Tom, you asked for this one, and you've got it!
In terms of song-writing, this is a stoater!
As aye,
Andrew.
- tom.d.stiller
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Dear Andrew,
I had to read your comment (on the Paul Simon one) twice, before I remembered. "Stoater", "stoater", the word repeated itself - and then I remembered, and finally got the finer aspect of your comment (my sudden enlightenment probably roots somewhere on Rose Street...):
and let's get richt guttered a'th' auld howff someday...
Tom
I had to read your comment (on the Paul Simon one) twice, before I remembered. "Stoater", "stoater", the word repeated itself - and then I remembered, and finally got the finer aspect of your comment (my sudden enlightenment probably roots somewhere on Rose Street...):
As aye,STOATER
Colloquially, a stoater is a term of admiration for a woman. She's good looking, a smasher, a real looker. "Man, whit a stoater that new lass in my office is!"
and let's get richt guttered a'th' auld howff someday...
Tom