Reflective, philosophical, and often humorous, this poetry is an ongoing attempt to make sense of this life and this universe. It addresses the Big Bang and the little bumps as well. There is no topic too meaningful or too nonsensical. This poetry is not coercive or persuasive. It demands neither your belief nor your faith. This is simply poetry you can trust.
Atop this home page are the titles of the other pages to this blog. Each of those pages contains a block of poems and audio buttons. Clicking on the audio buttons will allow you to hear the poems recited.
Sample audio: Please press right side of button below to hear introduction…
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Sample Poems:
Please press right side of button below to hear poem…
THE MAN WHO IS NEVER THERE
On Monday morning at the bus stop, the man who is never there
was not there again.
In a world teeming with unpredictable improbabilities,
the one I can always count on is the man who is never there.
On Tuesday afternoon at an intersection
I had the impression that he was standing on the other side of the street.
But a truck rumbled by and left in its exhaust
no sign of him.
All I could do was to conclude that I had been mistaken.
On Wednesday evening in a shop window
I thought I caught a glimpse of him.
But when I stopped and looked once more, I saw no one in the store
except a headless mannequin.
I cast the mannequin an ironic grin and went on about my business.
On Thursday night by the woods I saw a man emerge
as if he’d materialized from the trunk of an oak.
He strode forward, nodded knowingly,
and returned to me the same grin I had given the mannequin on the day before.
Then he spoke.
“You know who I am,” he said.
And in that moment I thought perhaps I might know who he was.
But on reflection I know only who he was not.
For in a world teeming with unpredictable improbabilities
the one and only one I can always count on
is the man who is never there.
(Mike Cohen – Oct 2008)
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Please press right side of button to hear poem…
OF THINGS CIVILIZED
Are you, as I have been,
discontented with things civilized?
Do you, too, despise
the conventionalized avarice,
the authorized arrogance,
the legitimized lechery of things civilized?
Have you grown as tired of the traffic,
the toil without apparent product
(what worker knows what he makes anymore?),
the pretensions and pretentiousness of conscienceless policymakers,
the unjustifiable gyrations of “the movers and the shakers”,
the fakers, the breakers, the takers and the takers and the takers
of things civilized?
Are you weary, as well,
of the red-tapestry of tightly woven protocol,
the overdeveloped systems of systematized inaction,
the pendular to-and-fro that swings to the tune of status quo
of things civilized?
Do you find it hard as I do to abide
the dense crowds and long lines,
the impersonality of so many heads without faces,
the confusion, the pollution, the restless prosecution?
There is but one thing civilized
to make civilization worth the price we pay.
It’s not the easy transportation.
After all, where do we go?
It’s not the quick communication.
After all, what do we say?
It’s not the ready information.
After all, what do we know?
There is one compensation
to balance the proliferation of crime,
the generation of grime,
the devaluation of the dollar till it isn’t worth a dime.
The one thing civilized that is alone sublime
is HOT RUNNING WATER IN THE WINTERTIME.
(Mike Cohen – Oct, 2005)
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In the next poem five characters play a poker game. But these are not ordinary poker players and it is no ordinary poker game. This is the Eternal Poker Game…
Please press right side of button below to hear next poem…
THE ETERNAL POKER GAME
There’s one famous game of five‑card‑draw
that everyone witnessed, but nobody saw…
Round the table five players sat hauntingly still ‑
Fate, Chance, and Justice, and Chaos, and Will.
Chance was the dealer. Justice went first.
They played their hands strangely, as if they’d rehearsed.
Justice took two cards, then Will took two more,
Chance shrugged and took three, Chaos took four.
and when his turn came, Fate impassively sat,
though he said determinedly, “I’ll stand pat.”
Will folded quickly. Then Chaos gave in.
Chance, Fate, and Justice all went for the win.
None of them would admit hope for victory was gone,
and so the three sat with their game‑faces on
until the time came, as the second hand swept,
to reveal the five cards those three players had kept.
Chance had three sevens; Justice, a straight.
All of the focus now fell upon Fate.
Over the game room there settled a hush
then Fate flashed a smile and his hand… royal flush.
They sit every day, and they play their old game.
Each time the contest’s results are the same.
Chance always deals. Justice always begins.
Will always folds first. And Fate always wins.
(Mike Cohen – c.1994)
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Please press right side of button below to hear next poem…
THE PLACEBO PRINCIPLE
Life is only as good as you think it is.
And if you think it is
you may just be fooling yourself.
And if you think it isn’t
you may just as well take up fooling yourself, because
life is only as good as you think it is.
(Mike Cohen – Jan 2009)
Any poem worth hearing must deliver a satisfying blow directly to the ear, but any poem worth writing may benefit from further inspection and examination by a reader. This blog is an attempt to address the dual nature of poetry by offering poems that may be enjoyed at either level in a format that makes them accessible at both levels.
I hope you’ll enjoy hearing them, and that the enjoyment will be thorough enough to invite you to read them as well.
The purpose of this blog is to share my poems with anyone interested in hearing and/or reading them. Each page of contains some poems with accompanying audio. Just push a play-arrow button to hear each poem. You can scroll down and follow along with the reading as you hear it. If you believe that poetry should be seen and not heard, feel free to ignore the audio altogether.
