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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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1973.
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Nouveau Riche
You say where there is smoke there must be fire
while pointing at the mansion I now own,
no man will stand here calling me a liar
a blackmailer, and crook, who's rotten to the bone.
I earned this money working in the ditches
and pumping poo from septic tanks each day,
a life of toil and forty years to riches
I'm seventy and old enough to play.
Not one dull dollar has been dropped into my lap
I've paid my taxes on the interest in the bank,
no lousy copper comes in here to pin the rap
onto my hide, and who am I to thank?
You say my Rolls and all the other motorcars
are not legit and that I do not have good papers,
and that my passport photo does not show those scars
inflicted years ago in the Mauritius Capers.
I can see clearly that you are a great detective,
and if the file you have in front of you is me
you'd surely think that I, yours truly am defective,
you want my papers to make certain I won't flee.
I do admit to it, but do me one small favour:
Stand very still right where you are and close your eyes,
I want to give a smallish taste, of proper flavour,
it is a Glock, and you may say all your good-byes.
Herbert Nehrlich
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1974.
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Nun at the Antique Bookstore
I had been looking for that ancient book
for quite some time.
And found it, paid the lady with the soulful eyes,
that could, if looked into when vulnerable,
ignite the meltdown of a man's own soul.
There was a book mark of inherent beauty,
its usefulness due to its very size,
and scribbled there in purple, stylish letters,
it gave a number, followed by the words 'call Me'.
So, it was true what I had noticed in the shop.
She'd felt it, too and acted when I stared.
I wonder what her hours are at work
and what to say to her now that we know.
She breathed Hello, a smokefilled rhaspy voice,
then she played hard to get, I thought at first.
I re-confirmed the loveliness of her brown eyes
and that we had made contact with our souls.
'You left a note', I said 'I'm calling you to see
if you would want to have a bite to eat with me',
(and almost said to her 'a bite of me') ,
and then I told her that the book I bought was precious.
Well, she confessed that she was just a simple nun,
with private phone, her studies near complete.
She'd sold the book there early in the year
to buy another science work that was too dear.
What does one say? A nun inside a convent,
so non-descript in looks and other factors.
I was so rattled that I mentioned with conviction,
that eyes THAT lovely were so very hard to find.
Her smile was audible, her wit measured perfection.
She said 'Oh yes, my eyes are beautiful as jewels,
I have reserved them and the rest of me
for Jesus, it was very nice to talk to you today.'
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: work poems, purple poems, today poems, beautiful poems, smile poems, beauty poems, shopping poems
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1975.
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Nuns' Buns
In the bath I saw two nuns
who had four delicious buns.
I was perched up on a ledge
listened as they talked of pledge
when they washed with liquid soap
I decided there was hope
crawled inside in total silence
out of inner lust for violence.
Screams were heard and I was caught
all the trouble was for naught
in the jail I learned to pray
had received a lengthy stay.
And on Sundays, they would pass
first the preachers and the brass
then the nuns buns under cover
well observed by me, who'd hover
on the jail cell's narrow ledge
making now a private pledge.
Herbert Nehrlich
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1976.
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Nur Fuer Dich
Eine blaue Blume sass
frueh am Morgen, dort, im Gras.
Lieblich war sie anzuseh'n
laechelnd bis dreiviertel zehn.
Kommt ein Kaefer, rot in Tracht
sieht die Blume, hat gelacht,
oeffnet seinen kleinen Schlund
knabbert schon mit seinem Mund.
Schlaegt ein Blitz vom Himmel runter
faellt ein kleiner Kaefer, bunter
wird die Blume nie mehr blicken
denn sein Herz hoert auf zu ticken.
Du mein Liebling, bist die Blume
stehst dort, fuer uns stets zum Ruhme.
Liebe, blau und zart besaitet
immer auf dem Glueckspferd reitet.
English Version
(For My Favourite Flower)
A small azure blue flower sat
at Dawn in its grass habitat.
A lovely sight who wore a smile
it framed her face for a long while.
A crawler comes, in red attire
not to adore or to admire
but to ingest the pretty flower
this early in the morning hour.
Now lightning strikes, sent from the sky
the creepy crawly goes bye-bye.
He'll never see her face again
and it is morning ten past ten.
His heart, intent to harm and kill
will now remain forever still.
You, Sweetheart are my flower
I love you scent at any hour.
You sit, endowed with love's own force,
your spirit rides my lucky horse.
Herbert Nehrlich
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