Tuesday Poem: Hoovering Up The Dollars Leonard Cohen Leaves Behind

My voice is my calling card and I leave it everywhere
A basso non-profundo croaked through nicotine-stained air
My doctor is persistent but his pockets are well lined
I’m hoovering up the dollars Leonard Cohen leaves behind

My band are all anonymous and play in charcoal suits
With autumn-years arrangements built on mandolin and lute
The critics are persistent but I don’t pay them any mind
I’m hoovering up the dollars Leonard Cohen leaves behind

My after-concert entourage is two doctors and a nurse
At my age adding groupies could only make things worse
My ex-wives are persistent but they’re reassured to find
I’m hoovering up the dollars Leonard Cohen leaves behind.

Tim says: I went to Leonard Cohen's most recent concert in Wellington, and, though I yield to none in my appreciation of the master's songwriting, I found the gig itself a dull affair, impeccably played but lifeless. Neil Young wigging out on his electric guitar for two hours while people around me wonder when he's going to get round to playing the acoustic hits is much more my cup of tea when it comes to ageing musicians and their performances.

Leonard was reverently received, however, which led me to wonder ... do I have time for a late-in-life career change? I'm working on songs called "First We Take The Bronx" and "Tower of Rap" as we speak.

The Tuesday Poem: I've enjoyed my three months' stint as "sub-editor" of the hub Tuesday Poem, which I conclude this week. Check out Helen Rickerby's selection for this week, and all the other Tuesday Poems.