Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

The Postage Stamp - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A postage stamp, handsome and male
in a drawer, was fast growing stale.
When two fingers reached in
took him out of the tin,
he was shaking and looked rather pale.

Now two lips and a tongue from above
smacked right down on him – was this love? -
and before he stuck
he considered his luck
but was grabbed by a hand, dressed in glove.


Well – the kiss had intoxicated
his being, all flat and serrated.
So he puckered his lip
BUT was sent on a trip.
Thus the end turned out rather ill-fated.


And you wonder whether it’s true
that your fate always gives you a clue?
It’s the pleasures you miss
if you wait for the kiss
and the aftereffect
of the glue.


Comments about The Postage Stamp by Herbert Nehrlich

  • (2/13/2005 9:46:00 AM)


    I enjoyed the unique perspective on this one (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • (10/29/2004 8:37:00 PM)


    Cool poem...creative way to sing the same ole' song. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: kiss, fate



Poem Submitted: Friday, October 29, 2004



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