Herbert Nehrlich Poems

So is it honour?
An echo coming back now,
for me to answer.
...

As if a man of mettle
had kissed the Mother Earth
and that each velvet petal
remembered still its birth.
...

To heal the sick he said, the lord's ways are mysterious.
And off he went without my personal donation.
The papers couldn't print it soon enough, the healings,
and what a wonderful true servant of the Lord.
...

A cook stood in the kitchen
and stirred Hungarian Stew.
His wife was always bitchin'
that's all this marriage knew.
...

It was his eightieth,
they let him out
of solitary.
Nowhere to go.
...

They met, thirty-one, all men
at 'Joe's' who still served beer.
And after hats and coats were off
they chuggelugged 'Hello'.
...

And not a single blueberry
was left among the leaves,
the more he searched the place
the louder was the sound of
...

Is filth the same as trash?
Asked little Speedy Zales.
No, trash is what you mash
filth has its own morales.
...

The hall was crowded,
a hum transcended
blue collar whiff
and music drifting in
...

How clumsy I had been.
For me, the strapping athlete,
to fall inside the supermarket.
Feet up, right near the cucumbers
...