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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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265.
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Read-It, Read-It, Read-It.....
Said the good-natured mouse
who was sharing a house
which was really a log
with a goose-shit-green frog:
You keep bringing me books
about farming and chooks
it is thoughtful of you
if only you knew
that I plum don't recall
what to do with them all.
Take this book, do I need it? '
Frog answered 'read-it'.
Herbert Nehrlich
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266.
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Renaissance
Anticipation always rules
with silly and with normal fools.
The brain transmits
hormonal bits
converting cytes
in secret rites
a chestnut gland
constricts its band,
much fragrant cream
right at the seam
the loss of sense
as now it blends
an arched lordosis,
hood into ptosis
membraneous wings
and lovely things.
requested time to be suspended
a renaissance that never ended.
To be read in the company of Amber Gin
Herbert Nehrlich
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267.
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Retiring Early
A man who did retire early
each night, and was a rather burly
well-fed and stocky specimen,
would always have lights out at ten.
One evening, it was in May,
the month when younger folk will play,
he somehow failed, did not remember
woke up next day, it was November.
This shows the act of breaking habits
should really be left to rabbits.
You see, a rabbit either sleeps
or checks the basement, where it keeps
digested pellets for re-use,
but rabbits always (is this news?)
are in the mood to....well, to hop,
they'll do this easily, non-stop.
So, if a rabbit oversleeps,
he's done his homework, heaps and heaps,
it matters little, but for man
he's got to do it while he can.
Herbert Nehrlich
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268.
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Revenge Of The Razorbacks
A Frilly Lizard, young and strong
was sleeping near a Billabong.
Nearby, a handsome Razorback
was contemplating an attack.
All razorbacks are pigs, of course,
some grow as big as a small horse
it is their nature to be tough,
they, basically, don't give a stuff.
Each living thing that can be found
on outback's lonely, barren ground
becomes fair game there, in the heat
and something for the pigs to eat.
Now, razorbacks have never learned
to sneak around, thus never earned
a reputation to be smart.
They either smack or grunt or fart.
And, so it was on that fair day,
awake, the lizard, in dismay,
had seen the herd of razorbacks,
there was no time now to relax.
But for this story I must mention
that, though these pigs had the intention
to hunt and kill that little critter
(who'd been the runt of his small litter) ,
but they had not been to these parts,
had discharged their revolting farts
out in the Simpson Desert proper
where Aborigines mine copper.
And in the Simpson Desert are
no frilly lizards, near and far.
Which means that those who do not know
would be surprised what kind of show
these little creatures can perform,
(just ask the guys from Desert Storm) .
The pigs attacked in straight formation,
it was a dicey situation.
The lizard left the Billabong
the razorbacks then read him wrong.
He reappeared now in their flank
had metamorphed into a tank.
At last the pigs, when they saw frills
did suffer shakes and then the chills.
A frilly lizard grows in size
in seconds, like a bad surprise.
And, to the razorbacks' lament
they were in a predicament.
When now the lizard flapped his wings
it was a case of seeing things.
A monster right behind their backs
adrenaline now to the max.
They ran to get away, at speed
through thistles, dust and tumbleweed,
into the water in a panic
and sank as fast as the Titanic.
In normal times most pigs can swim
by moving, frantically, each limb,
but fear can hinder willing nerves
from functioning, as each one serves
to tell the muscles to contract,
that is a scientific fact.
All razorbacks thus drowned from fear,
and, to you all it might appear
that what we have here shows again
that little guys win, now and then.
The frilly lizard as you know
had killed them with his stunning show.
But by the end of the next day
revenge was coming into play.
A thousand pounds of rotting flesh
was poisoning what once was fresh.
The lizard had an evening drink,
that night he did not sleep a wink.
Got, in the morning, out of bed.
And was, in fifteen minutes, dead.
Herbert Nehrlich
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