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Tag Archives: Leonard Cohen

Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

 

As I was deciding what to post today I came upon this I wrote three years ago. I think it has had a couple of outings since. It is a favourite. It recalls a true event that happened in my past in Las Ramblas in Barcelona, a city I love and where I spent much time. Just before posting it the news came through of more awful, tragic events there. I decided to post it anyway because it feels right not to grant those who want to destroy joy and pleasure their wish.

 

Time has become liquid

There is seven of them. They have escaped work, the conference, the day. Comfortable in each other’s company. safe in the velvet night that hovers beyond the candle light, romantic at an outside table beneath the awning sky of a restaurant just off Las Ramblas. The evening is drenched in intimacy and alcohol. They are gently, sometimes noisily, submerged in a warm sea of easy acquaintance which sees them laugh, and chatter, and tell stories, and become friends.

It is getting late. It will be an early start for all of them to travel home to their various countries. Yet clocks mean nothing. They want the time to stretch and yawn, but not show its hands.

But they must go.

He starts to sing. An ancient Leonard Cohen song of leaving that he has known forever from someone else’s life. His voice is hesitant at first, but deep, rich and dark. The others are quiet. Perhaps they do not know the words, or are happy for him to touch the night with the poetry they feel. There is sorrow in the song, but gratitude for what has been shared.

Her voice joins his on the ‘many’ in the fifth line. It is pure and innocent and holy. It lilts and drifts above his own.  It harmonises and caresses and then soars and swoops. It glides and caresses, softens and lifts. It thrills the air, and him. She is an angel from a heavenly choir.

As she sings with him he watches her. Her green eyes stay on him, her brave, almost slavic features are heroic and lovely, bathed in the flickering light. A mane of thick blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she tilts her head towards him.

They reach the close and improvise an ending which dances, then tumbles, falls, and finally soothes like a lullaby, achingly into silence.

It is a rare moment. There is a hushed, almost electric pause before the others applaud and nod appreciative heads. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

They have become connected, combined, kindred, allied, confederate.

Bound.

.

I will always remember the beauty of your voice, the magic of that moment, and the joy of our union that night.

And the memory

of ‘your hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Paul Cheng

This song always reminds me of that night. I hope you enjoy it again – despite today’s horror. And also this early recording of the song itself.

 

 
8 Comments

Posted by on August 17, 2017 in Lovers Past, Music, Still Life

 

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Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

Art by Fabian Perez

Time has become liquid

There is seven of them. They have escaped work, the conference, the day. Comfortable in each other’s company. safe in the velvet night that hovers beyond the candle light, romantic at an outside table beneath the awning sky of a restaurant just off La Rambla. The evening is drenched in intimacy and alcohol. They are gently, sometimes noisily, submerged in a warm sea of easy acquaintance which sees them laugh, and chatter, and tell stories, and become friends.

It is getting late. It will be an early start for all of them to travel home to their various countries. Yet clocks mean nothing. They want the time to stretch and yawn, but not show its hands.

But they must go.

He starts to sing. An ancient Leonard Cohen song of leaving that he has known forever from someone else’s life. His voice is hesitant at first, but deep, rich and dark. The others are quiet. Perhaps they do not know the words, or are happy for him to touch the night with the poetry they feel. There is sorrow in the song, but gratitude for what has been shared.

Her voice joins his on the ‘many’ in the fifth line. It is pure and innocent and holy. It lilts and drifts above his own.  It harmonises and caresses and then soars and swoops. It glides and caresses, softens and lifts. It thrills the air, and him. She is an angel from a heavenly choir.

As she sings with him he watches her. Her green eyes stay on him, her brave, almost slavic features are heroic and lovely, bathed in the flickering light. A mane of thick blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she tilts her head towards him.

They reach the close and improvise an ending which dances, then tumbles, falls, and finally soothes like a lullaby, achingly into silence.

It is a rare moment. There is a hushed, almost electric pause before the others applaud and nod appreciative heads. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

They have become connected, combined, kindred, allied, confederate.

Bound.

 

I will always remember the beauty of your voice, the magic of that moment, and the joy of our union that night.

And the memory

of ‘your hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Art by Fabian Perez

I first wrote and posted this two years ago. It recalls a true event that happened in my past. This song always reminds me of that night. I hope you enjoy it again. And this early recording of the song itself.

 
9 Comments

Posted by on August 23, 2016 in Lovers Past, Music, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

What other guy?

Art by Alina Maksimenko

I have had a re-think.

About posting music on here.

There is little point in me exposing things I like which everyone will know. Instead they will be more obscure. So rather than a track by legendary Canadian singer songwriter Leonard Cohen (for younger readers he wrote Hallelujah) here is a song by his son Adam.

The music is gentle and the words are touching. It is a love song.

I have personal and past reasons for liking it that I won’t go into now.

And as for the reason for posting it today – unfortunately it is prosaic – I was simply skimming down my iTunes alphabetically.

Perhaps next time I shall start with Z.

.

.

© the Author writing as Romantic Dominant

Music by Adam Cohen. ‘What other Guy?’ from the album ‘Like a Man’ (2011)

Art by Alina Maksimenko

 

 

 
9 Comments

Posted by on May 21, 2016 in Music

 

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No Way to Say Goodbye

night_cafe_sevilla_by_artscientific

Time has become liquid

There is seven of them. They have escaped work, the conference, the day. Comfortable in each other’s company. safe in the velvet night that hovers beyond the candle light, romantic at an outside table beneath the awning sky of a restaurant just off La Rambla. The evening is drenched in intimacy and alcohol. They are gently, sometimes noisily, submerged in a warm sea of easy acquaintance which sees them laugh, and chatter, and tell stories, and become friends.

It is getting late. It will be an early start for all of them to travel home to their various countries. Yet clocks mean nothing. They want the time to stretch and yawn, but not show its hands.

But they must go.

He starts to sing. An ancient Leonard Cohen song of leaving that he has known forever from someone else’s life. His voice is hesitant at first, but deep, rich and dark. The others are quiet. Perhaps they do not know the words, or are happy for him to touch the night with the poetry they feel. There is sorrow in the song, but gratitude for what has been shared.

Her voice joins his on the ‘many’ in the fifth line. It is pure and innocent and holy. It lilts and drifts above his own.  It harmonises and caresses and then soars and swoops. It glides and caresses, softens and lifts. It thrills the air, and him. She is an angel from a heavenly choir.

As she sings with him he watches her. Her green eyes stay on him, her brave, almost slavic features are heroic and lovely, bathed in the flickering light. A mane of thick blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she tilts her head towards him.

They reach the close and improvise an ending which dances, then tumbles, falls, and finally soothes like a lullaby, achingly into silence.

It is a rare moment. There is a hushed, almost electric pause before the others applaud and nod appreciative heads. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

They have become connected, combined, kindred, allied, confederate.

Bound.

I will always remember the beauty of your voice, the magic of that moment, and the joy of our union that night.

And the memory

of ‘your hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm’.

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo borrowed from Peter Ochabski

I wrote and posted this about a year ago. It recalls a true event that happened in my past. Last night I was eating at an outside restaurant – a rare sultry evening in England – when the young woman entertaining us sang this. I hope you enjoy it again.

 
25 Comments

Posted by on August 23, 2015 in Lovers Past, Still Life

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

No way to say …

night_cafe_sevilla_by_artscientific

Time has become liquid

There is seven of them. They have escaped work, the conference, the day. Comfortable in each other’s company. safe in the velvet night that hovers beyond the candle light, romantic at an outside table beneath the awning sky of a restaurant just off La Rambla. The evening is drenched in intimacy and alcohol. They are gently, sometimes noisily, submerged in a warm sea of easy acquaintance which sees them laugh, and chatter, and tell stories, and become friends.

It is getting late. It will be an early start for all of them to travel home to their various countries. Yet clocks mean nothing. They want the time to stretch and yawn, but not show its hands.

But they must go.

He starts to sing. An ancient Leonard Cohen song of leaving that he has known forever from someone else’s life. His voice is hesitant at first, but deep, rich and dark. The others are quiet. Perhaps they do not know the words, or are happy for him to touch the night with the poetry they feel. There is sorrow in the song, but gratitude for what has been shared.

Her voice joins his on the ‘many’ in the fifth line. It is pure and innocent and holy. It lilts and drifts above his own.  It harmonises and caresses and then soars and swoops. It glides and caresses, softens and lifts. It thrills the air, and him. She is an angel from a heavenly choir.

As she sings with him he watches her. Her green eyes stay on him, her brave, almost slavic features are heroic and lovely, bathed in the flickering light. A mane of thick blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she tilts her head towards him.

They reach the end and improvise an ending which dances, then tumbles, falls, and finally soothes like a lullaby, achingly into silence.

It is a rare moment. There is a hushed, almost electric pause before the others applaud and nod appreciative heads. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

They have become connected, combined, kindred, allied, confederate.

Bound.

 

I will always remember the beauty of your voice, the magic of that moment, and the joy of our union.

And the memory

of ‘your hair upon the pillow, like a sleepy golden storm’

.

.

© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Photo stolen from Peter Ochabski

 
14 Comments

Posted by on August 21, 2014 in Lovers Past

 

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Status

Well my friends are gone and my hair is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on

From ‘The Tower of Song’ by Leonard Cohen

I don’t do Facebook but this is my status.

Oh, and for the uninitiated, the photo is of Leonard, not me

 
16 Comments

Posted by on June 27, 2012 in Music, Quotes, Still Life

 

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Take this longing

I was going to write a poem or a song about how I feel.

Then I realised that ‘lazy bastard living in a suit’ Leonard had already written it.

‘Let me see your beauty broken down, like you would do for one you love’

Sigh.


Leonard Cohen – Take This Longing

Many men have loved the bells

You fastened to the rein,

And everyone who wanted you

They found what they will always want again.

Your beauty lost to you yourself

Just as it was lost to them.

Oh take this longing from my tongue,

Whatever useless things these hands have done.

Let me see your beauty broken down

Like you would do for one you love.

Your body like a searchlight

My poverty revealed,

I would like to try your charity

Until you cry, now you must try my greed.

And everything depends upon

How near you sleep to me

Just take this longing from my tongue

All the lonely things my hands have done.

Let me see your beauty broken down

Like you would do for one your love.

Hungry as an archway

Through which the troops have passed,

I stand in ruins behind you,

With your winter clothes, your broken sandal straps.

I love to see you naked over there

Especially from the back.

Oh take this longing from my tongue,

All the useless things my hands have done,

Untie for me your hired blue gown,

Like you would do for one that you love.

Youre faithful to the better man,

Im afraid that he left.

So let me judge your love affair

In this very room where I have sentenced

Mine to death.

Ill even wear these old laurel leaves

That hes shaken from his head.

Just take this longing from my tongue,

All the useless things my hands have done,

Let me see your beauty broken down,

Like you would do for one you love.

Like you would do for one you love.


 
11 Comments

Posted by on May 6, 2012 in Music, Poetry

 

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