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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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637.
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Are You Leaving?
And I'll ask you today,
would you like me to guess
what your future will hold,
like a good game of chess,
you must choose very soon
how you'll pay for your bread
when you lay down MY spoon
you will need to be fed.
At the ripe age of thirty
you must stand on your feet,
you can get your hands dirty,
it is time that you meet
real life and its pleasures
and also its pains,
as society measures,
in the end, what it gains
from each worker and peasant
from each tradesman and teacher,
but your life can be pleasant,
I will show you some features
all you need do is choose,
do not listen to voices,
that will tell you to use
some unethical choices.
What is given in debt
by the agents of state
you must put in your hours
and be one with your mate.
Be it sunshine or showers
or a mystery fate.
Well, then listen to me:
Would you like to be baker,
or a butcher or tailor,
or a candlestick maker,
or a soldier and sailor?
Maybe dentist or doctor,
university proctor,
or a fiddler, musician,
undertaker, beautician?
There are so many options
and you must be prepared
to accept some disruption,
'cause our leaders declared
that the servants are US,
and that they take the money,
after sixty-five plus
you'll have milk and sweet honey,
really, never you mind
that this world is so strange,
just get off your behind
and get going, arrange
for your future today
what will feed you tomorrow,
it is all quite okay
and there should be no sorrow.
'Cause whatever you choose
I will sit in my chair,
like a tired old moose,
with my silver gray hair.
Let me say, he who climbs
up the steps of success
has a father who rhymes
your adventures, no less.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: teacher poems, future poems, today poems, soldier poems, success poems, sunshine poems, money poems, silver poems, sorrow poems, fate poems, father poems, hair poems, life poems, world poems
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638.
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Arlene
'Father, bless me and forgive me, I have sinned.
I have doubted the great wisdom of our Lord.
I was in the backseat of my boyfriend's Volvo,
when the windows very suddenly steamed up.'
'Well, my child, you need to be much more specific,
so did you have that young policeman with you?
About his uniform, I mean was he on duty,
or was he wearing just protection meant for you? '
'Father, he has such a big civilian weapon,
and he said it needed to be put at rest,
in the only safe Aunt Jima and I have it,
then he found it, called it lovenest after that.'
'Carry on, my child, did he explain the meaning,
of that procedure then, please girl, now pray and tell? '
'He did most certainly, and also checked for fever,
his weapon is a mometer of sorts.'
'And did it happen, what I mean is, was it wet?
Our Jesus needs to know all of the facts, so tell me now.'
'Yes, there was stuff that I had called beef drippings,
but it was only, rest assured, that slipp'ry silver.
He said that often these mometers spring a leak,
it is the mercury that sticks to my pink panties.
Though, not to worry it has disappeared, thank God.'
'Well, now my girl, you are the child of Jesus,
tonight the last of the confessions in my church.
I want to show you now the special love of God.
Let's go upstairs to study all God's word indepth.'
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: girl poems, child poems, father poems, pink poems, silver poems, spring poems, god poems, children poems, thanks poems
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639.
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As Death Knows No Mercy
And when the light
at the far end
of Hope street
silently slips over the horizon
you nearly feel the icy blast
that pushed its way
through floor boards
seeking you
with its rigor mortis eyes
and its greedy talons.
It knows no mercy
and it sucks
the very breath
so shallow now
and then,
a grand finale
it blows its horn
and snuffs the spark
that once was you.
Dead calm.
The deed is done,
it matters little
that all death
is murder.
Herbert Nehrlich
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640.
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As He Slept
He slept as she,
on tippytoes,
came in,
she smiled
and bent
in silence
then
to kiss his brow.
He stirred,
perhaps he marvelled
at the thoughts,
the vivid dreams,
their hopes
and wishes
as their time went by.
She felt secure,
a happy girl
whose charge,
whose flowerboy
was safe at home,
attended to
by loving hands
and touches
from her tongue;
she brushed his temple now,
her hair engulfing
his sleep-flushed face,
there was a hint of salt,
its taste
mixed with
what she now knew
was his,
she loved to feel
his lashes
as they gave
submissively
in to her flesh,
bathed in saliva
as the eyes dreamed on.
His hand
now reached,
unsteadily
for hers,
and both,
one dwarfed,
sought out
his trusted place,
and pleasant heat
soon welcomed them,
the whisper of their nights.
She sat,
as he would say
she placed her
lovely bum
upon his bed
and studied him,
the dark had yielded
to infinity
which fed her eyes
and looked into the years
that would unfold,
her other hand
now sought the comfort
in the company
of two,
he'd named them Twins,
two soft and silky mounds
with knobs of pink.
She stayed,
a wistful smile
spread to her lips
where one small drop
condensed from silver mist
had trickled down,
they'd talked about
so many things,
the high-fallutin' ones
and some domestic chores
and happenings,
as if they were
without a question
now a pair.
He'd been afraid
of taking sleep
lest trumpet sounds
would break the morning's peace,
he'd talked about a fast
so empty tubes
would not disturb
yet she,
(another smile replaced the old)
had laughed
and he had joined
at last,
there would not be
a wall,
they'd grown
as if the gardener
had placed them
in hormonal soil,
and they would share,
she had remarked
without delay
all things in life
which was,
and this they knew,
a life of one.
She kissed his ear,
her acrobatic tongue
exploring deep,
it was an echo in his dream,
bounced back
from walls of stone
and muffled by
the waterfall
inside the cave.
She thought about it,
long and hard,
and knew
that she would never leave,
she'd hold his hand
as he had said
throughout their life
and, finally
until the moment
one would have to go.
And then,
there was again
the scurge of time,
they'd wait
until the advent of
their true infinity
when they would,
once again,
be holding hands,
and kissing eyes
and ears,
and touching skin,
and smothering,
each taking turns,
the other
with their endless love.
He'd have prepared
their private cloud
and fretted over things,
he'd want her happy smile
and find their heart again,
its beat
so reminiscent of a drum,
to share eternity.
Herbert Nehrlich
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