The Ash
Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2009 11:46 pm
Hello, fellow members of the wondrous forum dedicated to the wondrous man,
I've not been writing much on the forum, but I read a lot and was happy indeed to share the love of Leonard Cohen-- the great poet.
Now, I really felt like sharing one piece of my own writing, something that looks like a poem but probably is not worthy of being called as one-- I do not even know why I feel so strongly like posting it.
It is evidently responsing to Chelsea Hotel#2, but it kind of rised from my own experience.
Thank you.
The Ash— or a mere trial to bend some grief into lines.
And it was the ash, after all,
All those pages of poetry
That were hanged somewhere in between you and me
Throughout our pretty little simulation of love.
Listen, I do not want to sound like these
Who suggest that its lovers’ duty to
Never let each others’ hand
Never let go of each other.
For all these nights I always knew
That your limousine was waiting in the street
And that in our very artificial romantic relationship
There was only one ugly person
Only one loser
Only one who’s going to have to clench his fist
a whole lifetime long.
But we had some beautiful lines, didn’t we
You forgave my wrinkled hands
And my edges
And I forgave your
Miraculous perfection
in my eyes
When we sang together.
But don’t worry now,
I always knew that my voice was not meant to
Accompany you in your song
It was just so unbearably rough
And ugly and little and disappointing
And it was just the ash, after all,
Don’t worry, don’t worry, go to sleep now
For all those months that we kept it alive
All I actually wanted was to you to
Not to hate me.
***
Once again, thank you for reading this.
I've not been writing much on the forum, but I read a lot and was happy indeed to share the love of Leonard Cohen-- the great poet.
Now, I really felt like sharing one piece of my own writing, something that looks like a poem but probably is not worthy of being called as one-- I do not even know why I feel so strongly like posting it.
It is evidently responsing to Chelsea Hotel#2, but it kind of rised from my own experience.
Thank you.
The Ash— or a mere trial to bend some grief into lines.
And it was the ash, after all,
All those pages of poetry
That were hanged somewhere in between you and me
Throughout our pretty little simulation of love.
Listen, I do not want to sound like these
Who suggest that its lovers’ duty to
Never let each others’ hand
Never let go of each other.
For all these nights I always knew
That your limousine was waiting in the street
And that in our very artificial romantic relationship
There was only one ugly person
Only one loser
Only one who’s going to have to clench his fist
a whole lifetime long.
But we had some beautiful lines, didn’t we
You forgave my wrinkled hands
And my edges
And I forgave your
Miraculous perfection
in my eyes
When we sang together.
But don’t worry now,
I always knew that my voice was not meant to
Accompany you in your song
It was just so unbearably rough
And ugly and little and disappointing
And it was just the ash, after all,
Don’t worry, don’t worry, go to sleep now
For all those months that we kept it alive
All I actually wanted was to you to
Not to hate me.
***
Once again, thank you for reading this.