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Poems By Poet Herbert Nehrlich  2/8/2012 10:23:56 PM
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  Best Poems From
  HERBERT NEHRLICH (04 October 1943)
 
 
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  817.     

Carnal

He knew the term from adolescence,
had never tasted it due to benign
but earthen scents of ripened spuds,
he savoured all once all the clouds had gone.
Black as the night she was, exotic pleas
and wore the mantle of abject delight.
There was no vanity nor pure deceit
and only carnally there would be peace.
 
Herbert Nehrlich
   
 

   
   
 

  818.     

Carnivores

Flesh-eating animals
don't get fat.
They would not be able
to hunt.
Flesh-eating bacteria
do get fat.
They would eat much less
if they remained thin.
 
Herbert Nehrlich
   
 

   
   
 

  819.     

Carol

Hot pokers fell into my well.
She wrote!
It's been so many moons.
She took my blood,
and analysed it all.

Those were the days,
she had the expertise,
the looks and when she said,
let's walk, we missed the frigging bus,
and walk we did, as underfoot
a thousand maple leaves,
discarded and alone,
sang out in agony of sorts,
we paid no heed, but did
for decades yet to come,
store all the music of that day
away, so sweetly far, and even further
far away.

One cannot speak of these events,
we shall not know,
what human spirits can,
in memory recall,
but in a moment when the angels sing their song
my heart could falter and will ultimately fall.

I have been raised in a cold climate of despair.
Where only science and its disciples survive.
There cannot be a smudge of love for us to share
but will you kiss me, please to keep it all alive?
 
Herbert Nehrlich
   
 

   
   
 

  820.     

Carpal Tunnel

At first you note a tightness and
your grip has lost its youth.
It comes and goes, at last it stays
you ask for diagnosis.

'Oh, Carpal Tunnel', so they say
a nerve that's pinched so badly
that you will only suffer more,
unless you see the surgeon.

What they do not, but should, of course
reveal the secret treatment
for most of those who suffer so
a vitamin, so simple.


So, do you wonder why the hush
when this is so effective?
And no one seems to know the truth,
Perhaps it is the money.
 
Herbert Nehrlich
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Herbert Nehrlich