Of Praise And Skenollaise Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The written word,
a whisper barely heard
a pat onto the dorsal fins
a smile, a triple nod
a word of praise, how odd
how effortless it wins.

Wins supporters and friends
as it modifies trends,
lifts the spirit for all
so you feel ten feet tall.
It is surely a matter
that the people who flatter
will go far in their lives,
even keep their own wives.

But there is a confounder
and you know it of course,
like the slow swimming flounder
it's a case of the source,
any praise is becoming,
as it makes us feel warm.
Some will find themselves humming
others panic and swarm.

Yet there's one. When she utters
just a few gracious things
and so quickly unclutters
silly thoughts as she sings.
Yes, this lovely Godiva
trickles balm to the sore,
the great healer saliva,
will she trickle some more.

If the praise is intended
to work miracles though,
there is something so splendid
as it comes with the flow
and it coats wounds and scratches
soothes lungs and chafed skin
it so easily matches
all endorphins within.