|
|
|
Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
|
|
| |
|
|
1957.
|
Nomansland
The boy had eyes
of rarefound beauty
and a face
whose softness
tugged on strings
of early years
gladly recalled.
There was a fence
of razorwire
'round the villas
to keep them in
and others out
he wondered WHY.
He had no friends
on his own side
no mates to play with
he was the colour
of the devil's evil tribe.
His eyes now squinted
changed their shape
from cannon roundness
to slits of terror
and of pain anticipated.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: evil poems, beauty poems, pain poems, change poems, friend poems
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
1958.
|
Non Sequitur ***
It never ceases to amaze
that some who crave their neighbours' praise
will, in a gesture to impress,
use fancy words but make a mess
of meaning, often too of spelling.
My learned friends there is no telling
how they would wipe without a guide
their seat of knowledge, called backside.
I have some molars left of course
don't judge me, as you would a horse,
but when the reader must endure
the Latin term 'non sequitor'
he would, like me, get a strong ache,
one likely to keep all awake,
inside his teeth, due to the flaw
that even many dumb ones saw,
there is no 'o' in this for sure,
it's spelled, of course, non sequitur.
The writer, so it seems to me
is stuck inside a fallacy.
Conclusions not supported by
are like the tasty apple pie
that, eaten, cannot be for sale.
Which gives the writer a clear FAIL.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
1959.
|
Noodles In 1945
I told you once before,
I don't do noodles,
the wormy things that you
and High Society call pasta,
Well no, it's not the starch
the wiggly shape or even
the hollowness so full of air.
We only had a pile of spuds
and starch from which my Aunt,
helped by her sisters, made
by rolling out on the big table,
the dough, manhandling it
with the old rolling pin,
until it lent itself to being cut,
straight lines resembling those
that marked a skilful farmers field,
it always seemed to me that plowing
was a special art, it heaped prestige
upon the steady ones for months to come.
No one would know about the straightness
of the women's noodles though, why bother
was the question on my lips, so why indeed?
Once boiled huge piles descended on each plate,
a quarter ladle of thin whey enriched with spice
and parsley for its luscious green.
On Sundays there would be, God willing
a small herring or a pair of eels.
No sir, I don't do noodles,
give me spuds and some substantial fare.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
1960.
|
Norris
There once was a fellow named Norris.
And his lady was often called Doris.
In the dark of the night
he did give her a fright,
to her orbicularis oris.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|