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and in the gravelled voice
that scratched the speakers
of my first stereo
he roared to life
in his muted magic
came the words that sank back in the chests and minds of others
but danced on his tongue and spun webs
across our misunderstandings
he wove the wonder of my life
and I found myself sailing on the wind
created by the Canadian…
the ruffler of the language
oh, it was soft
like the bubble of the syrup mills
and the taste of it stayed
long after the words had passed his lips
to stand in jumbles
just outside my ears
a jumble of dragged syllables
that at once made one wonder
if they passed through the canals in the right order
but the sense and rhythm of it let you know
and the greatness of it
lingers and the feelings
of that first awareness returns
to rock with rumbling words
and gravel voice
and look within the ageing eyes
still bringing light
lapping like waves
at the shores of our consciousness
and Leonard Cohen mounts another podium
to spread the sound and majesty of his spirit
and light candles in the cathedrals of our souls

Hi RK,

I enjoyed this poem – thank you!

and light candles in the cathedrals of our souls

I think you nailed it; Leonard's capacity to transport us to a place where we become a little more luminous than we were before he touched us

Thank you, and welcome to the forum!

the ruffler of the language
oh, it was soft
like the bubble of the syrup mills

i like the way you move from abstract to sensual
thank you
i