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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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789.
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But For The Grace Of God
God sent his only son
Jesus by name
to save the world
with its abundance of
sinners, devils and cockroaches,
but Jesus, who had
never learned the art of smiling,
who was not given talents
such as diplomatic skills,
was caught by the envious ones,
not allowed to speak,
nor to learn how to smile,
and put down like a rabid dog
well before he could have,
perhaps would have
and most certainly should have
spoken the words that were in his heart.
Herbert Nehrlich
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790.
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But Mother!
So, after all, you Are a bleeding heart,
grown up with pointed ears to let the wisdom in.
They told you, and you swallowed how it would be smart
to imitate the sheep they called your next of kin.
The Baker's daughter, catholic, and, by tradition chaste
had bedded down in brambles near the ancient mill.
The boy had been so sweet and, in the evening's haste
quicksilvery seeds had found a home, by God's own will.
They found her frozen body late on Christmas Day.
Pale ankles crushed grotesquely from the sudden fall.
She'd floated down, an angel in macabre play
a useless gasp on impact with the ground, and that was all.
Townspeople were so shocked, as were you, Mother,
two wrongs committed as an act of silly selfishness.
But I do not agree that there could be another,
an option, so-to-speak, with life itself amiss.
She did not punish those she snubbed and left behind,
the life she took was hers and by all rights was hers alone.
Perhaps she was, right when she jumped, confused and blind.
But it was freedom that she found on mossy stone.
Herbert Nehrlich
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791.
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But Why?
You did not hesitate,
big hands you have,
they did not care
about the world
or little me and mine.
You were my brother,
God had arranged it,
but what you tore asunder
can never heal.
I leave you now,
and know that you,
in all your wildest dreams
could never care.
You have destroyed
what never could be built
again, for either you or me.
The scalpel that you wield
has cut too deep into the flesh,
it cannot ever heal
but it will calm itself
when all the blood
has run its course.
Herbert Nehrlich
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792.
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Butt Coconuts
A man with a humongous butt
was injured by a coconut.
He'd taken Max the cattle hound
for a short walk across the ground.
He passed the windy esplanade
and sought the comfort of some shade
which was, together with a breeze
available beneath the trees.
The dog, conditioned by genetics
and hardly fond of pure aesthetics,
would lift his leg and spray a mist
onto each tree, thus it be kissed
and grow through fertiliser bigger
(here, nitrogen would be the trigger) .
One tree, a stately specimen
liked neither dogs nor gentlemen,
it stood there, seemingly contented
but in its brain it was demented,
so, in a fraction of a second
it thought, considered and then reckoned
that timing was the real key,
the dog paid dearly for his pee.
The man as well, and here's the story,
the tree made hound and human sorry,
by shaking due to agitation,
which was enabled by dilation
of pulmonary arteries,
and squeezing of the tree's own knees,
releasing pure adrenalin
and setting up the tree to win.
Some eighteen coconuts were hanging
and in the wind, were gently banging
until the shaking cut them loose,
and, heavy weights due to their juice,
they crashed high speed onto the mutt
and knocked the human on his butt.
The moral is trees are majestic
that goes for foreign and domestic.
But now and then, they stand their ground,
dropp coconuts on man and hound.
Herbert Nehrlich
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