Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

The Welcome Visitor - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

He has, indeed, with luck perhaps
managed to grow an inch above my head.
The stewardess who walked with him,
as they de-planed was duly smitten
the modern business class for those who can.

Yes, he reminds of days gone by, a while ago,
though skills are different now, it's all computers.
High tech, a basketful of gadgets comes a-visiting,
and soon we talk of salaries, as paid down in La Jolla.

Comparing, in the dim light of the lounge,
teeth looking good and just a hint of belly,
can hold his drink and likes variety,
maturity has come, at last to roost.

I now await the day that distances are blah,
two hours for a continental crossing,
we must do lunch and dinner, and a whole lot more,
though thirteen thousand miles is not for pigeons.

So, off he went again, the pride of those who wave,
we trust the system and the pilot looked the part,
a bit of wind and one small thought of men with guns,
it will be good to hear the telephone at dawn.

Comments about The Welcome Visitor by Herbert Nehrlich

  • (3/23/2006 3:28:00 AM)

    This one, Herbs! ! G. (Report) Reply

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  • (12/29/2005 7:16:00 AM)

    You must be a wonderful father Herbert! It sounds like you enjoyed your visit with your son very much. I wonder........does he read your poetry here? Great poem. Sincerely, Mary (Report) Reply

  • (12/29/2005 3:17:00 AM)

    Yes, Denis you are right. A son who lives so far away and had come home for Christmas.
    Thanks for your kind words, your comments are always welcome.
    (Report) Reply

  • (12/29/2005 3:07:00 AM)

    This is fantastic Herbert. At once, one is forced to ask: ' who is the person; a son? an old School buddie? You create a mystery, not only concerning the relationship of the two people, but also over how this reunion took place: was it arranged or a chance meeting? . Then, once the work has resolved itself the reader is left with the feeling that it doesn't matter.

    I was particulary taken by the aside 'a bit of wind and one small thought of men with guns', a sort of reminder that paranoia, brought on by the external world, imposes itself, Banquo-like, on our everyday life.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 29, 2005

Poem Edited: Thursday, June 17, 2010

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