Herbert Nehrlich Poems

Midnight had come,
although without me,
I lay asleep
in Dreamland
...

There once was a stuffy old man
these old geezers do think that they can
spread nasty old rumours
just like rotting black tumours
...

She ran across the plaza, nearly flying.
He was alive, though barely, badly swaying.
Presumed deceased, their group of just fifteen
had made their way out of the steaming jungle.
...

Charlie, the cockatoo,
who had lived with our family
for going on eleven years,
was enjoying himself,
...

My hand had travelled slowly to the promised spot.
It was a cautious journey, marked by sweaty hesitation.
And now a question over should I or not
give into wetness and its tingling sensation.
...

On Christmas Day we go to town,
to meet at lovely Staffort Park.
To honour there -in cap and gown-
three scholars in the fading dark.
...

They fished him out at noon,
seagrass was draped and dragged
behind, like angel hair, though green,
lifelessness all dressed in Sunday suit,
...

There is a place
called Sylivania,
named after silybum,
the thistle of the milk.
...

Sometimes, it is the flutter
of Southern Hornets who
recalcitrant and ill-tempered,
sneak into sacred territory
...

The year was nineteen forty six.
A somber faced
and moist-of-eye
dear uncle
...