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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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769.
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BRIGITTE
I was just nine - you caught my eye,
you stunned me with your smile.
I stood with friends when you swayed by,
I thought of you a while.
You were thirteen and looked to me
like...well...you had it all.
You wore your skirt above the knee
and rolled your hips - a Doll!
My love for you stayed classified,
I kept this secret for five years,
when in a school bicycle ride
your chain came off the gears.
I flew to you, with flailing arms,
discouraged other helpers.
My brain had triggered two alarms
'bout horny little yelpers.
You stabilised the bicycle,
I fiddled with the stupid chain.
Your hand touched mine - an icicle-
remained there, yes, that hint was plain.
A date? My mother asked
with mock surprise.
At 14, are you growing up?
And then she told me
words so stern and wise
and said that dating now
would be a real flop.
She was right, we stayed
until the curfew.
Talked about, well...mostly German Lit.,
and when there were just 15 minutes left
I tell you,
I held her hand
and squeezed a little bit.
Well, it was the obvious dilemma,
on one hand here was Brigitte,
she was so much cuter than
my classmate Emma.
I had good taste but I was just a midget!
Brigitte then accepted our bond,
over decades we did keep in touch.
Crucial learnings our kinship spawned
even though we didn't
hold each other much.
And today I am not sad.
When I think of her I miss her.
Only, sometimes do I wonder
why in all these years and decades
I just never had the guts to kiss her.
I still remember
looking at her hips,
but never ever
did we even talk about our lips.
For: Brigitte
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: school poems, sometimes poems, today poems, kiss poems, sad poems, remember poems, smile poems, mother poems, friend poems
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770.
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Brink
Oh that the rosy cheeks of lovely maidens
like apple blossoms, sweet, in shades of budding pink,
be there for me when, at the end of aimless wand'rings
I fall into the gap that seperates man from the brink
of an abyss whose time dimension overcomes one's own.
Arriving in a promised land, decrepit, filled with hope,
my luggage being plain audacity and arrogance of fear.
There is no logic to these longings and no justice
though all fair play has been consigned into the past.
Inside a laughable cocoon called living hell
there is not life, my friend, as life can never last.
Herbert Nehrlich
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771.
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Britches
Since Friday when the Muse seduced
my mind I have again produced
a handful of those cheap and plastic
and trashy, utterly bombastic
poetic thingies for my fans
who file them under 'also rans'.
And in between when typing fingers
did rest the funny feeling lingers
that those who did decline the chance
to write some rhymes that please and dance
cannot for love of all the riches
fit in their oversized dull britches
thus they must pull a 'sour grapes'
just like a bunch of silly apes.
Herbert Nehrlich
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772.
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Broccoli - Not Blueberries
Why Blueberry, I ask you now
I have now come to lean to green
what has been shown, I'll tell you how
but no, it ain't the lowly bean.
It's broccoli, her majesty
a garden's pride, raison d'κtre
so let's not have a travesty
for horticulture's noble maξtre
is what the Gods meant when they made
this lovely plant all green throughout
and every single grassy blade
is envious, even the Kraut
called cabbage by the vegetarians
knows very well that broccoli
turns spinsters into centenarians.
Now broccoli sits high and dry
it likes its soil to be sweet loam
and rain is needed once a week
I think that every home, sweet home
even the shacks that look so bleak
would be enriched by this green queen
so do consider what I say
Don't get me wrong, I do not mean
to be conniving, even sway
your culinary tastes today.
But, try this, as they say, you might
like it, one just never knows
go to the garden at first light
spray the plants with your green hose
just to scare the little bugs
off your prized and precious friend
go inside where coffee mugs
wait for you with Maxwell Blend
take a bite, courageous, huge
of the broccoli with glee
as you chew, a small deluge
of saliva will flow free
grab her then and kiss her well
let the broccoli disperse
from experience I tell
that your soul will soon immerse
into loving shades of green
and you will forget the berries
and their purple bluish sheen
all the Toms and Dicks and Harrys
will testify, but if you choose
I will visit you in Spring
to chase away the blasted blues
and then we'll do the all-green thing.
Herbert Nehrlich
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