A Vibratory Instrument - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
A vibratory instrument
more often used in early Lent
due to the rising of the sap
that Mother Nature has on tap,
caresses superficial spots
and can be likened to the Hots.
No depth of penetration needed
in fact, if reach does get exceeded
the buzz becomes a rough and tumble
recipients do not sing, they mumble
and heavenly, sweet melodies
they fly away in the first breeze.
A joystick I would call this tickler
and if you want to be a stickler
for sordid and obscene details
then don't for heaven's sake ask males
it is a woman who was made
when God was resting in the shade
and got that luscious inspiration
from apples toward fornication
creating her, G-spot and all
and on each side a rounded ball.
He nodded off, there in the shade
and thus, the rather thin green blade
in His own hand turned into one
quite homely looking tool for fun.
But, pardon me, for now observing
that all the lusting and the perving
is not a substitute for pleasure
a woman needs to spoil her treasure!
And men, your effort to compete
with gadgets, while it feeds conceit
is bound to fall on deafened tissue
as nerve endings must be the issue.
As for myself, I've long suspected
that, once the statue is erected
it would be good to have a lump
on its thoracic (upper) hump.
This would, likely facilitate
and stop the global-wide debate
about the proper stimulation
before the train goes in the station.
To close, here is some good advice
do spoil her, kiss her lovely eyes,
know what an honour has descended
on you, adore this rather splendid
creation which cannot be matched,
and when the bedroom door is latched
and sounds of that gregarious hummer
drift into cirrus clouds of summer
be patient man, give her some slack
and wait until her mind comes back.
That is the time, you'll see the smile
angelic and it stays a while
you may approach her to discuss
the finer points of flowers plus
the fact that no superior creatures
exist and that a woman's features
are what a man would lay his head
onto the block or, ON THIS BED,
but let the invitation come
from her, it helps if you play dumb
move closer, talking, but a fraction
not more, you'll miss out on the action.
If Lady Luck shines on that day
she may invite you to her play
who knows if in the very end
she'll let you use the instrument.
Dedicated to All women. For shallow thoughts
Comments about A Vibratory Instrument by Herbert Nehrlich
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You