The Perfumed Donkey - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
A donkey stood inside his box,
and, looking down saw four white socks.
As just that day the donkey's teacher
had said that socks ain't donkey features.
So he went out to find a cure
in knee-deep liquid cow manure.
He first went to, and then went fro
and soon he looked, behold and lo,
like other donkeys, yet his feet
no longer were so clean and neat.
There also was that funny smell,
not liked by others, he could tell.
So off he went to get advice
straight from the wisest of the guys,
which was the oldest of the lions
and if you look beyond the science
and see just basic lion drives
you could be one who soon arrives
at what a wise but hungry beast,
one who was asked, to say the least,
to solve a problem that had started
when, due to socks, he had departed
the safety of his cozy barn.
I'm telling you, this is no yarn.
Well, back now to the lion's den
the females set the table then.
The father of the clan now burped,
it's when the appetite was curbed
too long out in the desert sun.
And they had not had one good run
of antelopes and wildebeest,
so this was great, a donkey feast
had wandered in right from the town.
Yet, suddenly, a mammoth frown
did occupy the old one's features,
he sniffed and shouted 'Of all creatures
this donkey causes instant running
of tearducts, phew, this smell is stunning.
My appetite has gone forever'.
The donkey who had thought he'd never
escape from this predicament,
turned right around and home he went.
Arrived back on the farm, one piece,
ignored the taunts of nasty geese,
sarcastic comments from his mates.
He never went through any gates
to leave the farm for any reason,
no matter what the current season.
He also took a lengthy dip
inside the shit, he'd never skip
that daily ritual which had kept him
alive when they would not accept him.
So for the rest of all his days
he stayed that way, would not erase
the odour that had fooled a king.
And, if you want to hear him sing,
like others do inside their showers,
turn west and listen, at all hours
a happy donkey sings his tune.
And, with approval, smiles the moon.
Comments about The Perfumed Donkey 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