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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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805.
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Cain's Punishment
Inside the church he did his sum,
the wine, in flasks, a large caraffe,
but treponema pallidum
would soon have others get their laugh.
No cure could be by quacks procured
and Salvarsan would eat your brain,
so many clergy had endured
this plague before they'd gone insane.
Yes, altarboys and girls of skill
who'd flaunt their wares on lonely nights
a man of God, through strength of will
for privacy turns out all lights.
As if this could erase the sin;
perhaps it could, though please explain
who would, with a satanic grin
send pestilence to strike you, Cain.
Herbert Nehrlich
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806.
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Callgirl
I saw her shadow first,
that Sunday afternoon,
'twas luck the bus was late
there was no better sight
the length of Hennepin.
A man, looked like a gigolo
now grabbed her arm,
and fragments of loud words
came flying over shrapnel-like,
when sudenly he slapped her face
I did what needed to be done.
His shirt was cheap it seemed
it ripped as I used martial arts
admired by a crowd and....her,
the nurse was very kind later that day,
she told me that the pimp had,
within seconds summoned friends,
and that there had been ten.
My wallet later became evidence
in State against Georgina,
callgirl with a lot of friends.
This poem was written by Stefan Reitz
of St. Paul Minnesota.
I posted it under my name
to encourage him to post it at all.
I think he may not become a member.
Herbert Nehrlich
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807.
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Calling Poet Eitel
There once was a soldier named Keitel
who was unaware of Poet Eitel
she would usually fail
to look in on her mail
I am calling the poet named Eitel.
Herbert Nehrlich
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808.
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Camellia
Her name was Camellia Sinensis,
she lived inside a modest hut
in Eastern India, the Darjiling.
Once a great hunting ground
with fossil bones on barren fields
bleached by the ravages of time.
Saber-toothed cats had roamed
and ruled these latitudes,
their restless ghosts live on
as proud reminders of long-ended battles
and of the tragedy of sacrifices
for unknown dreams of feudal lords
who laughed in unison at their spilled blood.
Oh, yes, the sea, a thousand dimples
from half-hearted drizzle, Darjiling rain,
home to so many of the great survivors
not ready for the afterlife back then
and stuck in memories of agelessness,
a fate of frank infinity and frightened presence.
It welcomed her, when she at last had reached
the end of one brief journey, the boulder
that marked the trail's last step for saddened souls,
and as the Spirit of the Skeleton, teeth bared
in that inimitable smile of one who time forgot,
a mermaid goddess, Camellia of the Sea.
Herbert Nehrlich
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