leonardcohenforum.com

Darkness falls no-one
in the mourning.
It is a mark of respect.

Mark works
at a bicycle olfactory,
where he sniffs out chances

to improve
his life he listens
to whys advice

"Why don't you
shoot yourself, Mark
that will prove them wrong.
Why don't you shoot yourself but gently,
like the closing of a song?"


Hi everyone. I am happy to join you all here.

Frances

Welcome to the forum Frances.

This is a fun poem with some excellent word play in it.
I get a bit lost in the last stanza but I think it's because the line 'killing me softly/with your song' keeps popping into my head.

This was my favourite section was, " Mark works /at a bicycle olfactory,/ where he sniffs out chances"

Thank you very much for the welcome. I actually met my husband, Mark, at a bike factory, over a glass of coconut milk, so this poem is desiccated to him. We were married for over 8 years until that unfortunate day when he was shot dead there. Obviously, the narrative in the poem is not literal as Mark did NOT shoot himself, ( regardless of what they said at the trial.).

Regards

Frances

ohhh, I'm sorry to hear about your loss - what a shame, it's rare in today's fast pace world to find couples who can enjoy a nice simple glass of coconut milk together.

Cate wrote:ohhh, I'm sorry to hear about your loss - what a shame, it's rare in today's fast pace world to find couples who can enjoy a nice simple glass of coconut milk together.

It's not a loss as such as they opened a bar nearby that sells coconut shakes and smoothies! I believe Leornard himself once wrote about " a flake of your life". When Mark was around he used to say some evenings, "I'd like to treat you to a stiff one, Frances" , now he embodies the very notion although obviously he is not in a position to drink any more, neither alcohol nor coconut juice.

oh he was a bit flaky as well - no matter
now he is permanently a stiff and dried out, probably mummified (or pickled?) .

take care,
cate

Cate wrote:oh he was a bit flaky as well - no matter
now he is permanently a stiff and dried out, probably mummified (or pickled?) .

take care,
cate

Thank you. I am going to visit Mark's resting place tomorrow and I will tell him I have made a new friend. It wasn't easy to share this poem but you have given me courage to post again!

Frances

Hello Cate (plus any others listening!) it was a very restful experience this time. I spoke to Mark as if he were still alive, well shouted I guess as the Bereavement Counselor advised it was very helpful not to come to terms with his death but to carry on as in married Life (I possibly misheard this part of my session, but can't really see how any harm could have been done)

In tribute to my visit I wrote these lines


As a Mark of respect
I thought I would save
my old bus tickets
thus enabling a free journey to visit your grave
Life is not the same any more
now you are dead
and i miss you lots
although I don't think of you that often

Frances

Very nice style, more please.