Herbert Nehrlich Poems

It was the little lines and grooves,
the pores in soft, pigmented skin
the memory of taste and touch
that reared its pesky head,
...

Ah, LOVE, a cuckoo bird persistent on the prowl
the Quisling of the forest I would say,
It ridicules the wisdom of the owl,
a Nomad who will visit but not stay.
...

Morning has broken
down by the pier
and you have spoken
don't want me near.
...

That night the sky was still and black,
when I slipped on my shorts
to run my 10 miles out and back.
A constitutional of sorts.
...

At eight p.m. that foggy night
he had experienced a fright.
The dentist sat inside his clinic,
the fright would shock the biggest cynic.
...

Do you recall the phrase
from yesteryear, called
'FENDER SKIRTS.'
Perhaps 'curb feelers'
...

I am not smitten with the man
or what he does, day in day out.
I wonder though, just why there is
a veritable hurricane of lies
...

A boy, whose mother liked to whip
his hide whenever he gave lip,
...

Blade number three,
start cutting at the toes
up past the knee
soon hit the Roman nose,
...

Well, the fellow was known as O'Hara.
And the beauty was loved as Sweet Tara.
Once he barged in the room
like a grouch of a groom
...