Herbert Nehrlich Poems

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.
...

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
...

At first it was a louse named Gysi,
he thrived in Stasi Germany
and made a comeback so much later,
relying on the stupid people.
...

And on that day before Easter,
the angel came down from Heaven,
looked at the people of the small town
and decided that only one strategy
...

Once there was a little bitty,
Persian cat named Nittigritty,
did not hunt for mice or rats
yawned when faced with flying bats,
...

A big white wolf named Rolf
whose name was Joe- Adolf.
Was seen inside the city
which was, to some a pity.
...

The mist was thick and hung
a giant lacy drape across the meadow,
a lonely bee, to young to have yet stung,
resting to see about the famous shadow
...

The Grisvolds settled on the coast,
they were rambunctious, more than most.
The ocean played all day and night
with waves of foam in God's own light.
...