10 Leonard Cohen poems that define him as a lyricist
All of Leonard Cohen’s songs are poems, but not all of Leonard Cohen’s poems are songs. At the start of his career, the artist never really intended to be a musician. He wanted to be a writer, studying English, milling around literary circles and going off to remote Greek Islands to pen poetry collections and novels. Throughout his career, some of those poems would later be put to music, transforming into lyrics. But even the ones that didn’t act as perfect examples of the kind of musician he was clearly, deeply informed by his lyricism.
The lyrics were always the most important thing in Cohen’s musical world. The musician even admitted that he never really thought of himself as a good singer, joking about how his voice grew deeper and gruffer thanks to “50,000 cigarettes and several swimming pools of whiskey.” But he always knew he could write a song well, simply because he wouldn’t let it go until it was one.
“To know my father was (among many other wondrous things) to know a man with papers, notebooks, and cocktail napkins—distinguished handwriting on each—scattered (neatly) everywhere,” his son, Adam Cohen, said. Cohen was known as a true perfectionist who would redraft and rework his pieces, sometimes for years, before letting them be seen. Every single word had to be perfect as each song started out as a poem, with stanzas being rewritten again and again until they were right.
So, really, Cohen’s lyricism and poetry are utterly inseparable. Through his writing, his lyricism reveals itself as the same common topics float into the work, and his unique language that merges grand sentiment with simple language is on perfect display. Across these ten pieces, Cohen, the musician and Cohen, the poet, are in perfect harmony.
10 definitive poems by Leonard Cohen:
‘Waiting For Marianne’
In his 1964 collection Flower For Hitler, Cohen is capturing his life on the cusp. In three years time, he’d move back to America to put all of his effort into music. But now, he was luxuriating on the Greek Island of Hydra, being nothing more than a writer and a lover.
Obviously, Marianne is a key figure in Cohen’s music. As the titular inspiration for ‘So Long, Marianne’, Marianne Ihlen was the muse for much of his work. This poem feels like a prequel to the bittersweet farewell song he’d later write here. Here, we see Cohen in love and pining, but in his typical style. As he does so masterfully across all his work, he’s merging big, grand declarations with casual comments, making a striking love poem but without any of the overly flouncy language typically associated. “I have lost a telephone / with your smell in it,” he begins, ending with the sentiment of frustrated desire, “and if you won’t come back / how will you phone to say / you won’t come back / so that I could at least argue.”
‘The Sweetest Little Song’
Two lines, and that’s it; “You go your way / I’ll go your way too.”
It’s so striking that Cohen, a man never known for being concise, who would spend years pouring over re-writes and editing his work, making sure each and every word was perfect, would write something so simple. It’s proof that even for the masters of poetry and song, sometimes a little goes a long way, as these two lines hold so much emotion. It’s moving and heavy, full of pure love, and romance but even a slight touch of sadness, depending on how you want to read this kind of devotion.
Perhaps even more so than his expansive poetic odysseys, ‘The Sweetest Little Song’ is the finest display of Cohen’s talent and artistry. He knew when to stop and knew these words needed nothing else.
‘Days Of Kindness’
If Flowers For Hitler captures Cohen in the before, Stranger Music was the after, compiling now decades of work into one place for a complete retrospective. As well as looking back on key poems from throughout his career, now he’d made a name for himself as one of the most beloved and interesting lyricists around, it also featured some deeply revelatory unpublished pieces.
‘Days Of Kindness’ is one of them, written in 1985. In the poem, Cohen reflects on his time spent in Hydra, grappling decades later with his decision to leave it. A simple scene in which he returns to the island and sits by the water is another prime example of Cohen’s plain speaking, which holds so much emotional weight as he navigates the topics of ambition, love, loss, and selfishness. Once again, Marianne Ihlen comes into view as this poem feels almost like an apology as he writes, “I haven’t forgotten / It lives in my spine / Marianne and the child / The days of kindness,” hoping they think of it fondly too as he concludes, “I pray that loving memory / exists for them too / the precious ones I overthrew / for an education in the world.”
‘Beneath My Hand’
In 1977, Leonard Cohen solidified his flirtatious reputation with The Death Of A Ladies Man, but really, his Lothario ways had been set from the beginning. Certain topics come up time and time again as essential elements of the artist’s writing and lyricism; spirituality is one, but sex and romance are certainly another, as Cohen crafted his own language for the act of lovemaking.
‘Beneath My Hands’ is a perfect example of that, first published in 1961 in his second-ever publication, The Spice-Box Of Earth. Out of all of his poems, this one sways more towards the most traditional side, borrowing from classic love poetry for a profoundly romantic air to the language. As he traces up and down his lover’s body with his words, he’s writing to prove to her just how beautiful she is by making his poem attempt to match up. “When you call me close / to tell me / your body is not beautiful / I want my body and hands / to be pools / for your looking and laughing,” he writes, turning his art into a stunning reflection of another.
‘Thousands’
Another essential corner of Cohen’s career was his art’s constant commentary on art itself. He was never shy about considering form or creation in the thing he was creating, often using his music or poetry to contemplate the process or role of being a writer. His lyricism regularly became quite meta as he wrote about the very act of writing songs or poems. ‘Tower Of Song’ is a prime example as Cohen discussed his position as a working songwriter by singing, “I’m just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song”.
To him, songwriting, or really any writing, was a skill and a job. “If it is your destiny to be this labourer called a writer, you know that you’ve got to go to work every day, but you also know that you’re not gonna get it every day,” he said of his process, acknowledging that writing required both dedication and inspiration and sometimes the two wouldn’t want to co-exist on a given day. ‘Thousands’ was clearly written on an off day as he wrote, with his signature wit and humour, “Out of the thousands / who are known, / or who want to be known / as poets, / maybe one or two / are genuine / and the rest are fakes,” adding, “Needless to say / I am one of the fakes.”
‘The News You Really Hate’
Regardless of what Cohen was writing, passion and emotion lay deep at the heart of every word. There were no half-measures, which meant that songs about love and devotion are some of the sweetest out there, while those draped in cynicism and scorn can often be overly harsh. When you consider his poetry and his music as a whole, you see this range in emotion clearly, as lines that convey something similar are delivered with sweet devotion, nonchalance and anger.
A great example of this is in ‘The News You Really Hate’. Less of a poem and more a hate-fuelled two paragraphs about an unnamed assailant, Cohen doesn’t hold back on criticising his subject’s falseness. “You fucking whore,” he writes, “I thought that you were really interested in music. I thought your heart was somewhat sorrowful.” Compare this to one of Cohen’s most famous songs, ‘Hallelujah’, and the similarities in theme, yet the differences in languages are apparent, as he says, “You don’t really care for music, do ya?”
‘Listen To The Hummingbird’
Samuel Beckett once said, “Every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness.” It’s an interesting quote from a writer, but it prompts an even more interesting question: can art ever convey something more beautiful than that which exists in nature? If all art is inspired by what exists in the natural world, why don’t we go to its source? Cohen eludes to something similar with his poem ‘Listen To The Hummingbird’, which leaves his discography and written work with a dark and quite poignant thought.
‘Listen To The Hummingbird’ is the final song on Cohen’s last studio album, Thanks for the Dance. His son, Adam Cohen, produced it and took the vocal for the final track from one of the final times that his father spoke in public. When Cohen was doing some press for You Want It Darker? He took the time to read out a poem he had penned the night before and gave the world ‘Listen To The Hummingbird’. The final line pokes fun at the strange nature of art itself, the written word and music, which Cohen had devoted his life to, as he says, “Listen to the hummingbird, don’t listen to me.”
‘A Thousand Kisses Deep’
Love remains a universal state of being in both its existence and elusiveness. Many writers, poets and musicians have attempted to define love, and we remain no closer to understanding it. “You’ll know when you know” is what we have, and it exists on a similar spectrum to the beginning of time and what happens after we die; all things are definite, but none are understood. Saying that, Leonard Cohen explored the feeling and all its forms throughout his work, and both its mysticism and our inevitable surrender to it are covered in ‘A Thousand Kisses Deep’.
In this work, he seems to acknowledge a limit to love if it is only spurred by physical attraction while also acknowledging that there are times when it makes sense to surrender to love. “I made it to the forward deck, I blessed our remnant fleet, and then consented to be wrecked, a thousand kisses deep,” he writes. There is a hopelessness to his words here, happy to submerge himself in the inevitability of both love, heartbreak and all things in between.
‘Bird On The Wire’
Cohen’s personal approach to writing defines him, and we see it in full force on ‘Bird On The Wire’. This piece is much more personal than some of his earlier work, as he uses his poetry as a confessional. The emotion and honesty in every single line are deeply moving, and Cohen’s hopeless longing and urgency are seen throughout his repetition of words and phrases.
“Like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, I have tried in my way to be free,” opens and closes the poem. Cohen explores every inch of his psyche as he addresses themes of regret and redemption. There is a deep vulnerability in this poem, which is easy to latch on to and connect with.
‘The Pro’
Leonard Cohen is intrinsically linked to New York. His time in the city led to friendships, collaborations, and relationships that would inspire his work for decades. He was drawn to the city and might have lost himself within the busy streets. His complicated nature with New York can be read about in ‘The Pro’, which explores how easy it can be to become a reflection of the city you live in rather than of yourself.
“Lost my voice in New York City, never heard it again after ’67, now I talk like you, now I sing like you,” he writes. He has become absorbed in the city around him and now feels like he is a clone of others living there. The poem is one of Cohen’s shorter pieces, but it is laced with symbolism and meaning, making it an enriching read.
