Herbert Nehrlich 2

Rookie (04-10-1943 / Germany)

Jack's Finest - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich 2

So, when I woke the sun did shine,
the free calendar showed
that it was Wednesday, after all
and thanks to the Almighty God.

Somehow, I'll muddle
through tomorrow's haze
and then....
handsome day Friday,
free and unencumbered
though not unbidden.

The chores will be a joy,
and five o'clock comes all too soon,
though not for me,
I reach toward the sky
a subtle gesture of
an earthling's gratitude
and then,
how sweet it is......
I pour onto a bed of
glacial stones,
Jack's very best,
old number seven.

I tend to get a trifle melancholy though,
'bout halfway through the night,
the worry worts do rise
like pesky gremlins from a past
when learning was
the premier order of the day.

I've seen them drop,
coma hepaticum,
or soldier's heart,
a kind dishonest term for
Wernecke (damned) Korsakoff,
few plain certificates would show
cirrhosis due to ethanol.

I like a dropp or two,
and as we Aussies say
the spirits of a bloke
must be fair dinkum to survive,
a session with a mate
or, in a pinch,
just by my lonely self,
is what we humans know
and surely recognise
as pure essentiality,
it's just the horrid thought
that soon may come a time
when Friday next,
still free and unencumbered then,
may come,
due to the nature of all things,
but it will go about its merry ways
entirely and unconcerned,
without Jack's very best
on frigid glacial stones,
without this happy lad.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Poem Edited: Wednesday, February 3, 2010

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