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Daniel Cohen Poem
I'm riding the train into town,
Enjoying the suburban scenery.
And here it comes -- a poetry idea!
I know it's an idea
'Cause it rides beside me:
Something about the riders
As they all crowd the train,
Rushing, sitting, reading.
I'd like to share with the man on the next seat.
But no! he doesn't want to hear from me.
I'm walking west on Main Street,
Enjoying the sidewalk scenery.
And here it comes -- a poetry idea!
I know it's an idea
'Cause it walks beside me:
Something about the coffee-breakers
As they sit in the donut shop
Drinking, reading, talking.
I'd like to share with the smoker on the sidewalk
But no! she flicks her butt and walks away.
I'm relaxing in a bar,
Enjoying the social scenery.
And here it comes -- a poetry idea!
I know it's an idea
'Cause it watches the people with me.
Something about the folks
As they come into the bar
In one's and three's, and leave in two's.
I'd like to share with this guy at the bar
But no! he's not here to "just chat".
My journal listens.
It's good at that.
But it doesn't answer.
Copyright © Daniel Cohen | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Daniel Cohen Poem
I like walking to the store.
Every day I buy a bit
Of what I need, for home supplies.
Or maybe I just look around.
I like walking back to home.
On the way I might observe
If my neighbors are around,
Or maybe left their TV on.
Sometimes kids play out-of-doors
On the lawn, where their energy
Is safely ignored by all
Except by each other, and their dog.
Copyright © Daniel Cohen | Year Posted 2025
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Daniel Cohen Poem
A dozen willows in the park
A shady grove on the lawn
Eleven tall trees in the sun
And one dark stump in the shade.
They invite me to join them here:
Yes, I'd like to sit here,
The fresh breeze and cool shade,
With the damp earth, and the rough bark.
In the sun, children play games and laugh
A mother shares lunch with her baby
Birds are busy in the trees
Boys play football on the lawn.
An artist sets up a little way away,
Her studio's a blanket on the lawn.
She paints the sunlit willow trees
The grove in the middle of the park.
I'm still sitting on the stump
With the damp earth, and the rough bark.
She paints the trees from her blanket,
With the sun and the wind in the leaves.
I leave the trees.
I smile and wave
The trees wave back
And continue their life.
I pass the artist.
I smile and wave
She smiles back
And continues her work.
Copyright © Daniel Cohen | Year Posted 2025
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Daniel Cohen Poem
I wish I could walk away
from my anger
And my anger's brother
fear.
That toxic family have stayed
too long
They're constant companions
in my heart.
Those brothers don't help me
anymore.
They should leave me innocent
like before
And take their shadows
with them.
Copyright © Daniel Cohen | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Daniel Cohen Poem
I'm supposed to create a few lines each day,
And arrange them into some kind of poem.
There's always a new way to write them.
Especially when it scans. It should rhyme.
But today, the guide I need most of
Is the coffee I perked this morning.
But Alice, the cat, informs me
That she's ready to dream on my chair.
The extra-long walks in the park help,
I've been there so many times.
I like to watch the kids play
They're distracting, and fun besides.
I'm home again. The cat hunts, the coffee's gone,
My wife comes home from work.
"How'd it go today, dear?"
"Great! sixteen lines in a row!"
"That's nice, dear! Does it rhyme?"
Copyright © Daniel Cohen | Year Posted 2025
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