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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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825.
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Cath
When he did not return
from an errand that day,
she accepted the eyelash invitation
of the piano player
to sit on his lap.
And that was all there was to it.
She had not realized the importance
of digital dexterity
and how little the music meant to her.
Herbert Nehrlich
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826.
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Catherine
She was, it must be said, proportional,
if you, my feathered friends know what I mean.
Inside her cranium though things looked distortional,
there was a brain as such, its size a pinto bean.
She suffered fickleness, inconstancy of thought
there was no logic or capacity to think,
an empty space, filled with a substance known as nought,
not even capable of grimace, smile or wink.
The diagnosis was inferior human genes,
anthropological poor standards were in place,
complete irrelevance in talk and written means,
unsound of mind and with a bland and frozen face.
Are you an imbecile a moron or perhaps
a total idiot which is possible I guess,
I may consult with learned colleagues, clever chaps,
a glaring defect in cephalic things, I guess.
Herbert Nehrlich
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827.
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Cathy
She was so bloomin' young!
And blooming truly is the word.
I smelled the innocence at once,
while focusing my longing eyes
upon her milky white and dimpled skin,
the asymmetrical slight ruffles
near where the heart should be,
and ears to kiss and gobble up,
if opportunity did offer up itself.
I did not mind her passiveness,
or was it fear of fear itself,
and we were dancing on the stage
the Waltz by Johann Strauss,
you know the one, The Danube,
we moved as if it were a blues
and not a waltz. I was a bit afraid
that she would mind my slightly
sweaty hands, I did keep wiping
what Vagus squeezed through pores
perhaps in an attempt to lubricate
communication between two souls,
both shy, but one much more determined,
and just a smidgen hornier to boot.
She leaned her cheek so sweetly
into mine below the ear, I heard
those whispers that were never uttered
but inside my daylight dreams,
and then I did with terror in my heart
take the initiative and kissed her eyes.
The dance went to the early morning hours,
we left as if to say we are a pair,
her flat was on the floor above the top,
it had been added as an afterthought
and shared its space with some prized pigeons,
as well as birds who came to scrounge,
and freshly washed blue overalls and socks,
some speckled with the gray of pigeon poo.
The bed was huge and of a lattoflex design,
it did not creak which was a shock at first to me,
we settled in, ostensibly to watch the TV news
and then the Johnny Carson Show as a dessert.
It now was time, she smelled so sweet and fresh,
went off to get a large carafe of Gallo wine,
we drank with straws that hailed from the McDonalds
and giggled at the jokes of Ed McMahon.
The gods did like me on that night, they had her say
that there had been a slightly sprained left ankle,
I took the opportunity to check, massaged and loved
the ankle's fourteenhundred points and every hair.
From there it did develop, I was soon close to the knee
while all my senses had, in undivided manner
sent timely signals to my hands and feet and lips
which made me feel like a conductor for Chopin,
who was, (God thank you I will always honour you) ,
now joined by the first violin in force, playing ιtudes
and then a Schubert, on to Liszt, my head was,
swimming in a fog of pure desire, while drums went off
and one small clarinet spoke up, the grand piano then,
but way too soon for trumpets, we were just kissing,
as the reasons of convention had briefly surfaced
in her mind and not in mine. I covered every inch of skin
that night in May, and would have gladly died in bed,
with her, a goddess of my being, there were no doubts.
I felt a bit embarrassed being so advanced, my God,
she even asked how many girls I had been with,
you know, she wondered about the deftness of the fingers
and how I knew just what to do and what to say.
I had been gentle, so she said and I just nodded,
I did not have a clue of what that did entail, so with
the confidence of arrogance I was the talker, who
all night and the next week just clung to her, her ears
and all of her, she didn't seem to mind, but then it went
all so malignantly and utterly awry, it was the sign,
a certain signal from above to say good bye.
One cannot be allowed to have it all, not ever, dear.
But in that night, when Gallo Burgundy was spilled
we did indeed and she will tell you to your face,
as she revealed to me, while sharing some with me,
I'm now the Godfather to her most precious Jodie,
granddaughter who has features unrelated but so close.
Herbert Nehrlich
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828.
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Cats
I do not like them, not at all.
Their feline nature drives me mad,
in Summer, Winter, Spring and Fall
our cat, named Lucy made me sad.
She had the personality
of an anointed queen,
but every day reality
showed that she was quite keen
to mingle with the common folk
and rabblerouse all night,
dead mice and birds, oh what a joke,
were waiting in daylight
on our breakfast table often
half-chewed and bloody skins to boot,
she'd munched on them to slightly soften
the insides of this yummy food.
She scratched all items in the house
and poked her claw in Rover's eye,
she would have left had not the spouse
decreed to have another try.
A training program was begun,
the two spent hours learning rules
and I came home to utter fun
of cat behaviour, we were fools.
And then one day the vet said 'sorry',
at twenty she was very old,
'I'd say this is her final story',
it left the family dead cold.
And then she died on Sunday night,
was buried near our Bunya Pine.
For weeks I didn't feel quite right,
and there she sleeps, that cat of mine.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: cat poems, sorry poems, fun poems, family poems, food poems, winter poems, summer poems, sad poems, spring poems, nature poems, house poems, home poems, night poems, sleep poems
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