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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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2717.
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The Mighty Pen
One day the pen sat at the desk
inside a house, the town of esk.
All pens, by nature, are inclined
to lie in wait until the mind
wakes from its slumber ready for
routine activity and more.
And when it happens it is quick
the pen, shaped like a fancy stick
must spring to action in a blink
while just above the mind must think.
Thus, like the talons of a hen
the mind must have its trusty pen.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2718.
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The Milky Way
It was the first time
that I had decided
this life was not for me.
I stood on top
of an old castle's citadel.
And tried with honour
and determination's help
to just let go. To just let go.
The crowd below,
though not invited
was licking lips
and softly grinning.
They were beginning
to shout the word,
just one sweet word
it spelled out 'Jump'.
So, to oblige,
not be a nuisance,
I closed my eyes
and did imagine
that, in the valley
of my dreams
there was a hope
which would be waiting,
and it was called
by a good name,
it was the milk
yes, do not doubt it,
it was the milk of
human kindness.
And all of it
was surely there
to welcome me,
perhaps I was
the human honey.
There never was
no talk of blindness.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: hope poems, time poems, dream poems
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2719.
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The Mine
He called her 'Silly-Putty'
since that Septembermorning.
He'd clamped his iron fist
around her eager ankle.
She'd cried her tears of rage
into the river far below.
They had, against all odds,
made a great life together,
there, in that coal-dust town
where Black and White united
against the signal from canaries.
Rich men in suits, so far away,
in towers made of ivory and chrome
are always busy counting dough
while clippings of new funerals
go out with all the other trash.
It seemed they always suffocated,
perhaps in cold, slow motion.
And he had been the foreman
when they married in the Spring.
They found his note, deep in the shaft.
It read 'I'm sorry, them's the breaks.'
It had been scribbled with a steady hand.
Today she finds sustaining comfort,
and, pleasantly, a memory of bitter-sweet.
With her new man of fifty years,
who's always brought the bird,
canary-yellow, short of beak
back home to her. He never wrote a note.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2720.
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The Mirror
A mirror hung upon a wall.
A man, quite handsome, also tall
stepped up to look inside the glass
and gave himself the nod, the pass.
He saw exquisite, handsome features
superior to all other creatures.
Black hair and pearl white teeth to smile
Amana suit completes the style.
His nails were short and manicured
flat stomach muscles had endured
so many sessions of the crunches
and, from inside, Martini lunches.
Two diamonds hung from his sleeves
and maple golden rings, like leaves
adorned pink ears and looked expensive
his jewellery was quite extensive
and in addition, on his arms
two Rolexes, with loud alarms.
He stood and looked from head to toes
but did not know a mirror shows
to all the world just your outside
what counts is all the things you hide.
For Mahnaz whose poem inspired me as much as she does
Herbert Nehrlich
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