Poets Meet In London

They met, in London's Springtime haze
and entered into a short phase
of snap assessment of each other,
as if they'd hoped to find a brother,
or, rather an attractive sister.
The one who's called (by Allan) Mister
looked just exactly like I'd dreamed,
moustache and all, his features beamed,
although I 'd guessed a smaller waist
and next to him old fate had placed
Gina, who smiled, (what could she do)
good looking truly was the crew,
mischievous face there on the right
well, I do think, some day I might
be lucky to be in the middle,
and if you want, I'll bring my fiddle.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Your Question About Poetry

You asked if my poetic skills
would be what an emetic fills
namely a basin of foul smelling
regurgitate, there is no telling
what someone sees in poetry
for me it's what the gods decree
somewhere the talent lies and sleeps
until the time comes where he keeps
it under wraps no longer, hidden
and out it comes, at times unbidden.
Poetic skills are not for all
some do prefer the shopping Mall
but those who can appreciate
and joyfully do contemplate
a poem as it lives and loves
the subject can be hawks or doves
those are the ones with open hearts
and they take in this art of arts.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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So What? !

He woke, a bit too early
on that Saturday in May.
And could no longer fight
the smoke-filled fact of
what others had already seen
so long ago. The talent.
There was no question now,
but how does one who floats
on cushions of reluctancy,
meaning respect, on loan
until it's graduation time.
How does this expert,
on paper anyway,
change course
halfway to liberation?
It will be tantallising
and voulez-vous?
But I can wait
until the man,
if he does have it,

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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True Aussie Racism

There once was a young, male recruit,
he was smart rather tall, also cute.
At the first interview
he was told: 'It is true,
your credentials, they really compute.

But a test is still needed to know
if enforcement can give you a go.
Shoot five Abos today
and three beards as they pray
and a rabbit by means of crossbow.'

'I shall do, Captain, just as you say.
Right this moment I'll be on my way.
May I ask why the hare? '
'Well, your question is fair
you can start in your job straightaway.'

Note: Huge strides have been made in Australian society to overcome racism. Huge strides are needed still.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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The Jumper

He swayed on top of the tall tower
and braved a cold Chicago shower.
His bank accounts were in arrears
the biggest sum was owed to Sears.

So, fittingly, he'd wisely chosen
Sears Tower, now he was half frozen.
And, as he tried to catch the mood
he smelled a whiff of Polish food.

It had arisen from the city,
and what a godforsaken pity!
Could he not go and have a last
hot sausage? It would be a blast.

A helicopter now was drifting
across the windy city's shifting
and pregnant clouds, it hovered loudly.
So, he decided, he would, proudly,
head down below to get a taste.

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Hook, Line And Sinker

I have always wondered what it means
when someone using oral means
says something so colloquial
that it is understood by all
except us foreigners of course
yes language, it is such a force!

A lady fishing from the bridge
her husband though had climbed a ridge
they were in heated competition
and liked the thought of going fishing.

A tug was felt along her line
at first she felt she should recline
and pull until the fish came out
it probably would be a trout.

It did not work and hubby yelled
about the way his sweetheart held
the fishing pole, she called him 'stinker'

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Love Is Reflection

Alas, it follows that
true love is
just an animal
that always must
be a reflection
of its own self,
seen in the depth
of your blue eyes.

It is not
a seperate
entity
for reasons
unknown
but not
unknowable.

So then, you ask
about
this thing

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Of the Family

Hairy, Hairy, quite contrary
sat upon a stool.
Came the kindly wombat fairy
from the Fairy pool.
Said to Hairy, have a sherrie
makes the bowels loose,
Hairy thought it rather scary
maybe, too obtuse.

Hairy took a wife named Mary
fat she was and round
built a cosy, visionary
log home on the ground.

Home was small but Hairy loved it
'twas a sturdy log.
Found a lichen rug and shoved it
in to warm the frog.

Frog had been cast from his quarters

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Black N White (Cloak N Dagger Poem)

I've always been a man who treasures black and white.
One either is still breating or one must be dead,
all cats are gray due to the colour of the darkest night
so black and white is king and that is what I said.

Be flexible said he whose bow was made of pine,
there came a point when nothing could extend it more,
the splinter took his eye, he fell into the vat of wine
his ship was lost at sea and never did return to shore.

A friend named Malcolm Williams, Nigger though to me
was quite ashamed of being black, me being white,
went through Chicago after curfew, it was hard to see
I figured it could be an asset to be dark without the light.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Friday Is Limerick Day

There once lived a poet named George
near the Falls of Carnarvon Gorge.
He ran out of ideas
and to us it appears
that he secretly started to forge.

So he copied from Chaucer and Suess
which of course was a blatant abuse.
When he went to the printer
in the middle of winter
he'd manufactured his noose.

In the bookstore he sat, smugly signing,
many copies, the people were lining
all the streets from the park
until way after dark,
with the moon and the streetlights shining.

At the stroke of the midnight hour
from the clock of the old Limerick Tower

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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