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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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473.
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Methane Gas
Their teacher loved his chemistry.
He knew that atoms had to be
prepared to join and thus create
new molecules with unknown fate.
He taught his charges about gas
which is elusive while it has
no truly solid properties,
and that it loved the world of cheese.
Well, Johnny, who had great ambition,
had read about atomic fission
and was, on could describe the lad,
a bit too nerdy, maybe mad.
He always stood and volunteered
and mixed some stuff the teacher feared.
But on the day of the disaster
he built from scratch a methane blaster.
He sat, in front of his own class
to prove the powers of a gas.
Had eaten beans and Sauerkraut,
two items that will want back out.
He had aligned three Bunsen burners
to demonstrate to all the learners
what gaseous explosions do
he yelled 'now watch the flame turn blue! '
And with a roar and then a rattle
a cloud inside prepared for battle.
Now, within seconds, on command
it blew to smithereens his hand.
Was followed by more heavy shells
and absolutely sordid smells.
And, as they say the yawn is catching
all pupils tried, and soon were matching
the foul eruptions near the flames.
Their teacher knew that learning games
can be successful in this life,
he'd proven it with his own wife.
Well, I am very very sorry,
there is an ending to this story
which won't become part of a thesis.
The gas blew all of them to pieces.
Herbert Nehrlich
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474.
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Migrants Of Sophistication
Well they do come in droves
from the coldness of Britain
they abandon their stoves
with Down Under they're smitten.
And with visa in hand
they start looking around
they expect from this land
a nice house and some ground.
They are settled so soon
and start eyeing the locals
and they look from Yeppoon
to the South with bifocals.
Now the Natives are clever
and a bit 'sticky-beak'
in the land of the Never
there is nobody meek.
Conversations soon flourish
and ideas are exchanged
but if thoughts are to nourish
then the Brits are deranged!
Looking down on us Aussies
and critiquing our lives
that's reserved for our Mozzies
and, at times for our wives.
A gregarious lot
with the humour to please
but the fool we are not
it's the mate we do tease.
As a souvereign nation
standing proud by ourselves
your sophistication
is as dull as your elves.
As the billy is steaming
and you step off your plane
you can finish your dreaming
we don't fancy them vain.
Herbert Nehrlich
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475.
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Milking Aunt Hulda's Cows
Aunt Hulda, she slept in the nude
I stayed over, she called me a dude
Uncle Fritz told me 'NO'
in the closet you go
we two found this attitude rude.
I was five when I watched Uncle Fritz,
he was squeezing Aunt Hulda's big tits
I was wondering how
he could think her a cow
and I asked all the other kids.
And they laughed at my naivitι
some suggested I go out to play
and that milking the cows
in Aunt Hulda's pink blouse
was the reason that milking hands pray.
Herbert Nehrlich
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476.
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Missed You
I missed you,
you were gone too bloody long.
In all the minutes
that my mind was occupied
with being idle
it hit home
that you were gone.
It's then I knew
that absence is
a crock of old cacatum
thus I proposed
to my smart inner man
a strategy of wits,
whereby all cells
inside the idle mind
would be,
by stealth
and other means,
sent peptides
to ensure
a period of
activity
unmatched
in previous times.
Success was,
needless to report,
a given,
gray matter may,
in times of stress,
through cortisol
and cousins rise
to all occasions
and produce
the mother of all heats.
Tis wonderful
how man can conquer all,
and soothe his soul
in times of absence
and of loneliness
of nights.
Each second was,
there cannot be
a smidgen of a doubt,
preoccupied
with depth
of thought,
of feeling
and things sought.
And it was all,
I am prepared to say,
about the one,
the greatest love
it was,
and here I smile,
about
the one
I know as YOU.
Herbert Nehrlich
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