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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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829.
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Caveman
Inside a dark and silent cave
he heard the sounds of pain,
he'd ventured far, a man so brave,
had thought it a small drain.
Without a sound small geysers spat,
the path lost all its friction,
no need to smell an ugly rat
or face post-haste eviction.
The fit was snug twixt tepid walls,
the ground now wide awake,
he'd left outside his trusted balls
in case there was a quake.
Herbert Nehrlich
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830.
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Caves
There were so many,
they hung their heads
as if in shame
and swayed, unnoticed
buoyed by the staleness
of belated centuries
and, by and by they dripped
onto the rocky grounds
their semen as if it could
renew this world, its breath
and, as the devil watched,
the thorn of stalagtite
slipped with a tiny cry
into the petal gate, so moist
of what has been described
by Gods and man alike
as stalagmites, those givers of
the ambience of caves
and of its secret womb.
It was the taste of love
the force that does perpetuate
the beat of each small heart
which, in its own noblesse,
surprises even Gods.
Herbert Nehrlich
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831.
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Cedric Didn't Fly South
In Europe, all the feathered friends
get ready when the summer ends
to fly themselves to Italy,
away from winter misery.
A flock of sparrows soon were packing
their luggage for the lengthy trip,
one sparrow though was clearly lacking
the energy, he meant to skip
the annual, exhaustive flights.
He also was afraid of heights.
The tribe took to the air at dawn
but Cedric offered a big yawn,
went back into the empty nest,
convinced his choice had been the best.
Three weeks into the frosty days
young Cedric felt a strange malaise,
no matter how he fluffed each feather
he could not stand this icy weather.
Reluctantly, he waved good-bye
rose up into the freezing sky.
But, as he passed a local farm
he noted with renewed alarm
that both his wings were icing badly,
he moved them faster, trying madly
to get the circulation going.
Meanwhile his fears were quickly growing.
His efforts were to no avail,
he dropped just when a bit of hail
came from a cloud devoid of charm
and landed hard, inside a farm.
Near death he opened burning eyes
and saw, to his extreme surprise
a cow who wandered slowly by.
When she was close she dropped a pie
of mushy, brown and warm manure.
It was salvation. soft and pure.
His frozen blood thawed in a flash
and he felt fine inside this mash.
His voice returned, he sang a song,
though this, decidedly, was wrong.
A cat who happened to be near
said to herself 'What have we here? '
She dragged the sparrow from the pie
and, with great pleasure, ate the guy.
The moral, if you're up to it:
Someone who drops on you some shit
ain't by necessity your foe.
But she, who offers you a hand
may never qualify as friend.
And most importantly, if you
are to your ears in bovine poo,
keep eyes and ears and your big mouth
closed tightly, else you must fly south.
Herbert Nehrlich
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832.
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Cemetery Dreams (Haiku)
When you see robbers
behind each scrawny cedar
it's paranoia.
And when you fathom
that homocysteine is
out of the bible
and that a gangster
who fooled the Royal Mounties
describes the ovens
then it is time man
to hang your head and shudder
and take your valium.
The great Houdini
or was it someone smarter
said go and wait there
He meant the Boneyard
and that we could hang out there
await our turn.
But human beings
have never grasped the meaning
of death in earnest.
We are so clingy
and will not part with honour
because of envy.
Or are we jealous
do we begrudge the living
to view our passing?
Let's lean on marble
and close our tired eyes now.
Juniper bushes.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: death poems, haiku poems, time poems, smart poems, dream poems
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