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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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397.
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A Measure
I'm really not a whimp.
The word timidity
was not in use,
where Dad and
all the rellies spoke.
They hung around
and made the rules,
declared most folks
as silly fools,
while I, the number two
was left to play
with my devices
every day.
My childhood would
have truly been
the dream of any shrink,
twas never dull
and, due to allied bombs
that visited with regularity,
it kept us on our toes,
and formed our souls,
deep in our chests
in soldier's vulgar prose.
Today, having caught up
to modern life,
I fell into an estuary,
on the Northern coast,
things went,
as far as one could tell,
exceedingly,
I'll skip the other adjectives
of course.
I woke
the morning was azure,
and we held hands
inside the shower
spilling soap,
and then we sat
to rest
and kiss
to simply hug
wet skin
and drink our scents,
and, while I sat
on Tuscan tiles
it did occur to me
that she may say,
and kiss
and hug
and sleep
the lovers' sleep but that,
for reasons
quite unknown,
I really may not,
oh God,
not measure up
not measure up at all.
Herbert Nehrlich
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398.
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A Memorable Wedding
He was the brother of the bride
and gave the pair a royal ride.
They waited for the judge to be
available right after tea.
He'd seal the fate of sis and man
as only an official can.
The brother now went to the room
where earlier the future groom
had let a bit of bladder pain
escape into the courthouse drain.
The rest of them they sat and waited
with breaths that were a fraction bated,
but brother did not soon return,
which now created some concern.
The groom, though not in urgent need
got up to see if he had peed
and would be ready to retreat,
it would be time to go and meet
the judge for this extreme affair,
which he'd been asked to come and share.
Oh, my, there was a true dilemma,
the brother of his sister Emma
was fiddling with his zipper, though
it would demand a real pro.
Quick thinking found a magazine
left by a salivating teen,
Hugh Hefner's Playboy to be placed
where pubic hair the people faced.
The judge, when he officiated
did glance at glossy, overrated
and photos, arguably explicit,
he also noted (couldn't miss it)
the bulging belly of the bride
an obvious profile from the side.
He nodded then, yes, a connection
and, blocking logical reflection,
he married them in record time,
and thought that sex should be a crime
if practiced by the common man,
in fact, he'd try to get a ban
into the legal system soon,
he'd teach those kids a novel tune,
with one more look at this strange party
and this young hippie, (such a smarty) ,
he took the bribe and said Farewell.
I promised them I'd never tell.
Herbert Nehrlich
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399.
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A Minute
'Just wait a minute, ' that is what I hear,
I'm an impatient one who doesn't have much time,
yet it has been my lot to be quite far, not near,
from action needed prior to the clock's next chime.
And when you ask, my friend, what really is a minute,
ain't there a lot of them, an awful, countless number?
As a comedian would describe it 'Bear and Grin it',
and in the morning you would gladly add one to your slumber.
It's a commodity of pretty small dimensions,
consisting, as it does, of only sixty seconds.
If running late for work you're feeling added tension,
but at the dentist you don't like it when he beckons.
It must be unimportant, cheap and easy money,
this timely measure of a person's detailed life.
If in a minute it could rain or be blue skies and sunny,
your wife could whisper 'it will be just one more minute'.
But as so often is the case, when people pay attention
to stupoid, unimportant, obsolescent matters,
they fail to realise a truth that I must mention:
No minute does repeat, that is a myth that quickly shatters.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: money poems, running poems, work poems, truth poems, rain poems, friend poems, people poems, time poems, sky poems
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400.
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A Need For Words
Nothing said. But,
trailing close behind you
is my farewell, though a bit late.
And when we meet again
there will be
the uncertainty
of happy smiles at last.
The need for words, it was
my shadow, but not yours.
And what we talked about
was always introductory.
As if the main meal
still could wait,
perhaps the guests
would break the ice,
and change the thaw
into sweet wine
to loosen stubborn tongues.
And of the promises
expected and directed,
was there a plan
that could surpass
common convention?
Will we,
when crossing paths
then walk together?
Make up for time
you did not have,
and would not take
on this God's earth?
Will there be wine to drink
and time to dwell,
is it the company
to fill a need?
Creating what turned
into little 'you'
was rather easy
and perhaps coincidental.
But when you left
you tore the stuffing
out of hearts
that were
but ill-prepared
to see you part
so very soon.
Things left unsaid,
undone, unfelt
and unbeknownst
will be my luggage
when we meet again,
my son.
Though time will drag,
as you would know,
its clumsy feet,
I'd call it Bliss
if you could send
a tiny sign.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: farewell poems, son poems, change poems, together poems, happy poems, time poems, god poems, smile poems
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