Poetry by Bruce Louis Cohen

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On this page are samplings of various kinds of poetry written by Bruce L. Cohen outside of his song-lyric writing (available on different page with its own drop-down menu).

Publishers or agents with interest in commissioning new poetic works by Bruce Louis Cohen, or publishing extant works, please email to this link. Thank you.

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For his wife’s every decade-marking birthday since their marriage in 1991, Bruce has written Debi 10 original, new sonnets for each year of the decade.

They were written to be a private collection all Debi’s own: but in mid-2014, Debi gave permission to publish some of them in the open.

Below are a few of the forty sonnets written so far – Decades by Years • Sonnets For Debi • Sonnets 1 through 40).

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Decades by Years • Sonnets For Debi • (Vol. I: 1-30) • Bruce L. Cohen ©1997 • All Rights Reserved

4.  My family wants to sleep on me, that’s all 
    They seem to want to do. First one then two
    Then three all have a piece of Abba, who
    Is just lying there, quite horizontal.
        Horizontal never had it so good,
        Or so sweet. And I, who used to dream of 
        Such a pure smother of cuddling love,
        As one, then two, then three all in the mood
    For me dig above, below beside and 
    Everywhere ... I sigh, and say so be it.
    The little two, they will soon enough flit
    Away into their bigness shying from such grand
        Umbrage as my form can now provide, and 
        You ... my Bun ... will still be there to smile and
        Hold and oooh and drain love thermally ... and 
        Mark with me the sheer wonder of it. Stand
            I do, and often shall. But the laying
            Down with you now, Family ... makes Abba sing.

    * (Fourth stanza is outside classic sonnet form here: I 
       experimented in the late 1970’s with re-inventing the sonnet: 
       some of that inclination lingers. Shakespearian, Miltonic, 
       Petrarchian & Cummingsian forms all beckon so. - BLC.)


10. We went through hell together, you and I,
    And somehow we survived, but how, I do
    Not know. The winds that tore, the hail that flew 
    And tore the softness out of us, God knows why,
        When we lost everything, every mooring 
        That held us to the stable shore was cut 
        By man’s inhumanity to man, but
        Made still sharper in the depth of the sting
    That came from raw betrayal by all whom
    We held dear. Did King David err in his
    Love of Saul? Was he a fool to stress
    His life with trust of one gone mad, and tomb
        Himself in the cave of madness only 
        For love of God and godly loyalty?


11. By Mount Tabor in the blonded hay, we 
    Kissed our separateness away, and how we 
    Kept level in our souls, or sanity
    Between us I will never know. To me
        It is all a blur, as I went from one
        Twoward toward you only you in that then
        That created this now; and we know when
        God does, He does what He knows should be done.
    So Debra and Barak came out of Mount
    Tabor, and tens of thousands with them (we
    Pray!). For we (the we that live because 
    We daredtoceaseourdanceofbeing d i s t a n t)
        arenowoneinsomanywayswecan’t
        begintotelljustwhereweendorstart


16. Jerusalem, Jerusalem. I hear
    It singing in your heart when quiet comes; 
    And some hard accommodation benumbs 
    The underseeth of hunger to be there.
        I know. I feel it, too. We both have stood
        Within her walls and as her children we
        Have danced in her streets and joyed in her, free 
        With our love for her and faith for her good
    As the plan of God unfolds for her and
    Us. The day will come when we know our
    Time and place in her; til then we labor
    For her good from here. One eye towards Our Land.
        We remember each day in Dispersion;
        The day is coming for our Inclusion.


20. You and I, we speak in code, and no one 
    Outside has a prayer of understanding 
    Even one so open word, the meaning
    Of the words is buried so in pure fun
        And history. Kids are bunlets, “One-let,
        Two-let.” Wives are buns, and husbands are huns; 
        “We’re leaving, “ and “Moon!” are laden with tons 
        Of undermeanings imbued with tacit
    Experience no two others share. We
    Alone are we, and Summersby is not 
    A possible scenario, so taut
    And sure are the lines that fix doubly.
        One plain sentence is all it takes to know, 
        Miles of us beneath every word speaks below.


21. “Be free!” It totally undid me, to
    See a paperclip set free. Ein Gedi
    Stood on the nearby horizon. And I
    Stood on the brink of commitment. The true
        Depth that little quip reached inside my soul 
        And pulled me closer to the waterfall
        In whose pool with cascading bluish wall
        Quite overwhelmed and washed and soaked in all 
    The dry and laughless lonelinesses love
    As yet had found no moistening means. 
    Above The lonely noise, my heart alaugh in chains
    With kingish waters flowing from above.
        When you, that little clip had thrown away 
        And opened with it me, as with a key.


29. You are the strongest summer I can know, 
    And how your summer sweetened all I see; 
    The gift of you in summer was bounty
    I can never repay you. To allow
        Me to spend your summer with you in this 
        Life God built for us; and know you know kiss 
        Your summer fond and every more to pass - 
        Makes me to wrap such deep-laden endless
    Embrace upon you. Pardon my over- 
    Coursing flood of words, but as your twenties 
    Leave I want to bid adieu with you ... thirties 
    Shall be easier at least. Spring weather
        Is milder than the summer, this we know. 
        But ahh, such times we grateful watch to go.

31.

Forty is what forty does and that is

Far from uniform – it might improve, it

Might devolve, it might reward or edit

Former goals or dreams – and pull at the seams

What once was thought and once believed to be

A destination absolutely so

Certain that it took no effort to know:

Of course that root would grow to such a tree

Then sun and night and wind and rain arrive

Informing all the growing that becomes

The life at forty with its own rhythms

Unbidden they emerge and they contrive

To live to love to learn and always better

A life devout to spirit and to letter.

37.

Married to the mob is quite a life; but

Married to the target of Capone takes

A special woman who of trouble makes

An opportunity to stand for what

Capone does not, no do the ones who fear

His anger. There are things worse than danger.

There are fates worse than jeopardy, there are

States worse than peril, and trials worse than mere

Movement into harm’s way. The peace of soul

That comes from no piece of soul surrendered

To mere fear of some hope being murdered

Can not be known by those without the will

To say “I’d rather die than give Capone my

Soul by calling ‘truth’ what a child knows a lie.

38.

“You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!”

Jack says, “You messed with the wrong Marine.”

Few know how wrong a choice it’s ever been

To cross my wonderwoman – there’s a tooth

In mothers that comes out for kids like

No other force in the universe can

Come out for them: Ema rises to stand

Up for whatever they need, and can strike

A blow for their good with the strength of ten.

Nowhere no how no one will keep away

From her babies what they require each day

Each year each minute each life –will be won.

“You’ve messed with the wrong marine” if you have dared

To cause her sons to lack what might be secured.

39.

Israel is still later and not now. She

Sits there calling us but always later.

Jerusalem is home but is not here

And not now. How fortunate we are to be

Where we are until we are at last where

Our hearts have been from even long before

We became us – it’s impolite to stare

At the future when our now is so far

Above what could be Iowa … or New

Jersey. Thank God Manhattan is our call

For now until when Jerusalem will

Send her golden summons to us – right through

To exalt above our chief joy as it should

The City of the King, and work for its good.

40.

We have swum in Eilat’s bay and theatered

In New York. We have anniversaried

In the Plaza, Waldorf, Rainbow Room and

Popped many a cork. It has been so grand

To live and love and thirty with you as

You EmaWifeRebbetzinPal about

Through tests that would make a patriot doubt

His country – and you are not above pause

To question, reflect – or party hearty

With your HunBoysPalsShulmatesorYali

And savor every moment fierce or jolly

And remember why – always and ever why

You live and love and labour for the true prize:

To give the world what has worth in Heaven’s eyes.

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