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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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2833.
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This Christmas
Just once before I die I would
so love to see a lot of smiling faces,
each morning when I board the city bus.
Mind you, there is no pressing need
for outright reverence or admiration.
I am completely able to interpret all
nuances of your now familiar lines
crows' feet and ordinary wrinkles are,
what I have stared into, each working day.
So let me draw conclusions as I wish
as I lean back against the grimy, shiny seat,
wrapped like a Christmas gift from God
inside my salt and pepper London-tailored suit.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2834.
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Those Promises To Keep
It's lazy dazy, says my ambidextrousTerrier,
Jack Russells do behave in wondrous ways.
Those Sundays never are the more the merrier,
I much prefer my ordinary days.
A Monday is a sign from our God
that work is needed just to pay the bills.
On Tuesdays we may find it rather odd
that all the aches at last have yielded to their pills.
Wow, Wednesday triggers thoughts, just two more days
and Thursday is my favourite, I just wait.
I really put the effort in, in countless ways
to be prepared and also worthy, after eight.
I love those Saturdays as well because they show
that time is plenty and the morning is for sleep,
but bloody Sundays do remind me that I owe
and that I signed for all those promises to keep.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2835.
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Those Three Little Words
There are three little words
that did not emerge
when the crisis arrived
like a flock of black birds,
though that morning heard a vocabulary
of thousands of meaningless bits
as she went down the stairs I only whispered 'Mary'
but she left for a new world, of glamour and glitz.
She was tired of mucking the cowbarn and more,
was no farmer, this girl, born and bred in the city
I am sure that I was, to her, just a big bore
now I lost my best worker, which is a great pity.
Well, today I have come to the simple conclusion
that she would have, I could have, we should have stayed close,
if I had at the time known that utter illusion
is to love like lifeblood and the reason she chose
to just walk out that day and never turn back,
is the lack of the wisdom contained in my head
as they sat on my tongue as I watched Mary pack
and those three little words, they were never said.
Herbert Nehrlich
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2836.
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Those Unfortunate Ones
There once was a fat one with tits
who was missing some cognitive bits
but she could not resist
to try dancing the twist
never knew 'bout the its and the it's.
I have met some who knew not to spell
some were turned down at Taco Bell
they were simply too dumb
and their brain was the bum
they write its' - it's the its who can tell.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: dance poems
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