|
|
|
Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
|
|
| |
|
|
793.
|
Buttermilk (Children)
You leave your room, it's full of clutter,
go to the barn to milk the cow.
And, in a while you're making butter,
only the clever do know how.
When you convert the cow's own milk
into soft butter with your hands,
the finished product, smooth as silk,
once lived inside pink udder glands
it does leave something you can use,
a runny, yellow-speckled fluid,
which you can change if you so choose
into a product. If you knew it
you've tasted flavour like no other,
a different consistency.
They named it after its own mother,
so, can you guess what it could be?
It's buttermilk, I told you first,
go, have a glass, just close your eyes.
It's what I recommend for thirst,
for little girls and little guys.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
794.
|
Buying A Ticket
And it just hit me, then and there.
I was, with saved-up cash today
buying the ticket to escape from there.
While counting she looked up
and flashed a smile to melt titanium
reached with her arms through the
dividing glass to help me count.
I fell in love with just a pair of arms,
and counted freckles for protection
from prying eyes of other passengers
as well as hers, though I was praying
that she would catch me in the act.
A feeble 'Are you sure' was all I could,
under the circumstances utter,
and then it was high time to board.
I sometimes wonder, yes I really do.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
795.
|
Buzz
My tongue starts just below the knee
and like a horny bumblebee
I buzz into the gorge above
and whisper silly words of love.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
796.
|
By Definition
You see in troubled skies above
bizarre-edged Ebenezer clouds,
a fluffy-feathered steel-gray dove
just soaring into distant doubts.
And ask yourself just what is love.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: love poems, sky poems
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|