Herbert Nehrlich Poems

Today I vote that the great title
of greatest poet goes to Eitel,
Raynette's the name, poems her game
she keeps alive the wondrous flame
...

They say it flies.
And is quite indistinguishable
from money.
Just like the tide,
...

He woke, a bit too early
on that Saturday in May.
And could no longer fight
the smoke-filled fact of
...

A timid boy, that's what he was.
A nerd in school, though into sports,
observing all his hometown laws
but drifting laterally, of sorts.
...

She actually isn't mine at all.
Jack Russell Terrier called Hoolie.
Replacement for the one who did
with canine curiosity, while daring fate
...

I once knew a wuckfit named Boomann
who was dumber than bugers of Truman
he had someone write words
and went back to his turds
...

At times that crying boy
can be like bottled joy.
A most unlikely teacher
turns me into a preacher,
...

The moon had just arrived tonight
he looked with twinkling eyes
toward the North that's where his bright
and trusty Northstar flies.
...

I think the chuckle is all mine,
and if it ain't then nothing's lost
as some of us drink noble wine
and others shudder at the cost
...

It was a simple barricade,
Arabic letters, exclamation marks,
a hot, oppressive wind, pregnant
with stinging sand and camel dung.
...