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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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1969.
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Not Stood Up
At last she had arrived, hips swinging.
Boobs leading,
heels clicking,
unhurried, rather strolling.
Two hours late,
I, like a girl,
a whimpy one at that,
I had stood there,
pretending very well
to like the neighbourhood.
But not quite blending in.
'Well, piss off, inner man,
your lonely finger of
such righteous indignation,
it just fell off, things happen!
Buses break down,
parents mingle,
handbags lost,
stolen carkeys,
bridges flooded,
blizzards roaming,
stalkers, male,
and those much softer,
obnoxious cops,
what counts is only
she is here.'
'So, tell her so! '.
'It is alright,
I have all day,
no problem, no,
I'll cancel classes,
the funeral of grandpa, too,
the graduation.'
She was not paying good attention,
could be a listener she was not,
but then who is, today, tonight?
Things more important
in this world were dear to her.
She glanced across the busy street,
well, looking, even maybe longing,
some interest of peculiar kind
was occupying her sweet mind.
Her pink-framed mouth then opened briefly,
exposing pearly whites and moist
strawberry tongue, God so delicious.
'Sorry', she said, 'truly I am,
and please believe me, it's not YOU,
something is wrong within myself,
not you, at all, but many fishes
can be retrieved from many seas.
But I'm already very late,
so here's Good-bye, I guess, for now,
but will be seeing you, okay? '
And turned, to leave, then stopped and said
over that lovely shoulder, left,
half-draped by shiny, auburn hair,
those dimples, rosy cheeks and ears,
a dipple, lone but prominent
protruding, straining looking hostile,
'still friends we are, that's understood? '
and crossed to waiting beau, brisk steps.
As far as I remember this,
I never ever liked those pads,
on shoulders, not on girls at all.
Then, whistling. Exit. Pub. Next left.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: funeral poems, pink poems, sorry poems, lonely poems, girl poems, believe poems, today poems, remember poems, hair poems, lost poems, god poems, world poems, fish poems, fishing poems, friend poems
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1970.
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Not To Be Pitied
Life offers us some misery
in words and deeds like travesty,
born of a common piece of crap
some keep supplies of pus on tap.
They dwell in shrill disharmony
while oozing with dishonesty.
You may well ask why this is so,
no need now to consult a pro.
It's envy's noble curse on earth
hatched as an accident of birth.
Herbert Nehrlich
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1971.
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Not To Worry
I must, to stay within the zone
keep down the electronics
Conduction through my funny bone
sets off those histrionics.
A piece of cake to overstay
one's welcome, gained anew,
what if she smiles as if to say
I need you like the flu?
A million gallons smoothed those stones
a journey's murky green,
exotic fish, their muffled tones,
blue algae in between.
My hope is that the noisy geese
that swim above and chatter,
stay clear of the great golden fleece
and take their pitter-patter
off to the banks to make their nests
while life goes with the flow,
hold secrets close to feathered chests
as time now fades below.
So, let me be just like a fish,
talk only now and then.
Present to you a single wish
the wish of mice and men.
You know, of course, the old adage
that folks will come to join,
some dress in stealth and camouflage
while others toss a coin.
To walk with people for a while
there comes a time to turn,
some may be waiting with a smile
and a bouquet of fern.
As I observed (and you can see)
my soul is histrionic,
perhaps there is some hope for me
through Gordon's Gin and tonic..
Herbert Nehrlich
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1972.
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Nothingness
The planes had hit.
And, half asleep
I waited for King Kong
to manifest himself
up on that tower.
Surely, it is a movie,
at such ungodly hour.
I never will forget
those souls who jumped
because there is
no comprehension
in this head of mine.
I cannot write a poem
about the tragedy,
I'm just not man enough
to jump into the nothingness.
Herbert Nehrlich
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