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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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221.
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Don't Call Me Mother Hen - Again
I stood and watched
my daughter's birth.
A tuft of hair
salt of the earth.
To see it through
to its safe end
I prayed to you
asked you to bend
rules of devotion.
My smile was frozen
with high emotion
and I had chosen
you as my keeper
my hand to hold,
as now my beeper
so shrill and bold
called me away
to other chores
liquid dismay
oozed through my pores.
I held you then
today we're shy
called Mother Hen
and time goes by.
Herbert Nehrlich
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222.
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Drug Dealers
I do hate thee
and count the ways.
you hide inside
a toxic haze.
That rotten smell,
sound of your voice
your place is Hell,
you have no choice.
I must assume
that God can make
a witch with broom
and you, the flake.
But his intent?
It will not click,
who would invent
a drug-soaked prick?
Well, up in Heaven,
the two discuss,
each night at seven
the earthly fuss.
Satan and God
debate and choose,
and give the nod
to those who lose.
Thus God receives
repenting souls,
while Satan grieves
for ugly moles.
Will they decide
for gutter-creeps,
through whose thin hide
the badness seeps?
A low-life man
like you arrives,
whose evil plan
ruined many lives.
No one will cringe,
you'll plead in vain.
Take the syringe,
Scum Of Cocaine!
Of all the fools
a handful lack
those innate rules,
they won't come back.
The time will come
when D N A
of filth and scum
will have to pay.
ANNIHILATE
each single cell,
that is your fate.
You won't make Hell.
Herbert Nehrlich
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223.
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Duckfeathers
They say that water, with some luck
runs off the feathers of a duck
which means I think that feathers would
keep dry the ducks as well they should.
And why would ducks, I ask, wear feathers
if unprotected in all weathers,
they might as well go waddle nude,
though naked ducks look rather rude.
If you can see a different meaning
in this, perhaps to do with preening,
or something else entirely
let me invite you to feel free
to write a poem about ducks
but do not say that this one sucks.
Herbert Nehrlich
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224.
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Erotic Dreams
Well spoken and sweet
from luscious girl Gina
it has tickled my feet
and bedazzled my wiena.
It is I who would live
in the depth of your dream
to each other we'd give
as erotica's team
when we go for that ride
to the land of the willows
liquid thoughts deep inside
near the whispering pillows.
If tomorrow we perish
then tonight is good-bye
squeezing tight what we cherish
as we reach for our sky.
For Gina (with audacity)
Herbert Nehrlich
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