Triple Limerick
When the angels shed tears it is raining.
When it thunders it's devils in training.
When you sit on the pot
(in a hurry or not) ,
you'll be freeing things better by straining.
Saw a fellow (an old human being) ,
at a Casuarina tree, peeing.
His companion, a dog,
raised his leg on a log,
he was blind and his eyes weren't seeing.
You may ask what I'm smoking or using,
I'd reply that I'm partial to boozing.
Once they call me a hearse
it's too late for a verse,
until then may my words be amusing.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Dog Years
The stones accumulate at last
and make you mellow
your public face is quite aghast,
your inner fellow
will wonder what will now become
of your resolve
as inner voices on a drum
play jazz and golf.
It's only milestones says your doc
nothing to worry,
it is not you who will take stock
and when the flurry
of plain arrythmia does arrive
it is too late.
You had such fun while still alive
my friend and mate.
And I insist to hold your hand
with all its sweat
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poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Wanderer II
Above my head the wind just blows
strange music to my ears,
its tentacles then tease my nose
and later there are tears.
A raven, flying like the crow
direct without detouring
its feathers black against the snow
its childish cries alluring.
I walk because I must succeed
in finding the blue flower
inside my satchel, grandma's mead
has turned and gone off sour.
And should you, on your voyage then
encounter one whose laughter
fills all the valleys, to Cayenne
with pink forever after..........................
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Another Betrayal
He was my brother until now,
a trusted friend who shared
a childhood of great dreams
who read the stories of the blood
that could be shared between
two genuine pals, by birth.
Yet he betrayed my trust,
with a disgraceful shame
and lack of plain humanity
to others, it was not to be
that honesty could rule
nor would it now survive.
I do not understand the world,
perhaps I never did,
the knife was twisted
and left in place, deep in
the soul that in the past
would without question
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poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Contempt
Let us enjoy our poetry
a given in a land that's free.
Though politics may bother some
ignoring it will keep us dumb.
A limerick overshadows time
the pleasantries of clever rhyme.
Free verse is mastered by a few
though much of it resembles pooh.
So many live inside a trance
where words perform their lovely dance.
We must, as poets stay alert
lest they may take our favourite shirt.
Our leaders ought to know the rules
that we are not pathetic fools.
Yet they behave as if exempt
and practice, laughingly, contempt.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Come smile at me again
Come smile at me
come smile at me again.
And use the only smile you have,
the selfless and exquisite one.
And keep your eyes on me.
I'd like to study
the nuances of your smile.
Come look at me.
Come look at me again.
And use the only look you have:
The one of pure
Manuka Honey.
And keep your look on me.
I'd like to study
all the markings on your face.
Come close to me.
Come close to me again.
And hold your warm and tender body close to mine.
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poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Destiny
I thought of other things,
of butcherbirds with wings.
You rang, would you be game
for coffee with a dame?
I thought what is the use
would being a recluse
convince the pesky bird?
Well, Sir, you have my word,
I had no mind to sip
pale latte or to skip
my game of golf at noon
my swim in the lagoon.
You know (I think you do)
that it is surely true
if I had stood my ground
we would have never found
this thing that has us tied
like Bonnie to her Clyde.
The game the gods do play
are full of man's dismay
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poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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H 2 O
Her name was oxygen, short form O-2
she was just floating there, above the lake
when something thin and wearing just one shoe
by name of hydrogen, a common flake
came rushing up to meet that chubby thing
which had two legs to dance with, he had only one
but when he touched, the water made him dance and sing
while that chubby one was sitting on her bun.
Above the waves that day they did combine their souls
though it was necessary to recruit one more
so that their dance could then proceed on four whole soles
and they made history as chemistry's folklore.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Something Practical For Valentine
There sits, atop a cherry tree
a bird that badly needs to pee.
He's eaten cherries to his fill
and now is bloated, feeling ill.
Bird guts turn cherries into wine
for critics here, on Valentine.
And if the critics have the gout
the wine will drive the acid out.
I think that I shall never see
another fancy cherry tree.
Nor any bird, a cherry thief
who, bloated, aches for quick relief.
But the idea of cherry wine
gut-brewed just for my Valentine
is reminiscent of the gout
today is it, and I could shout!
I'm off now to the local shop
to get her present, a new mop.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Galilee
Some time ago he dumped his little flask,
companion for the hours of still nights,
she came from the great mist, to have him bask
in carnal lust and love, they flew like kites
and landed on the sill of Heaven's dome
where cotton candy lined the window panes,
much later she gave birth to a demented gnome
and he blew out their bright but disappointed brains.
God sat and watched, he even nodded now and then,
as if to say that matters were as they should be,
the Devil meanwhile knew that living things like mice and men
would never rate compassion from their God, in Galilee.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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