Herbert Nehrlich Poems

Am Gartentor haengt eine Zwiebel
und auf dem Dach, gleich bei dem Giebel
ein Spatz mit grauen Federn sitzt
es regnet grade, und es blitzt.
...

They met, in London's Springtime haze
and entered into a short phase
of snap assessment of each other,
as if they'd hoped to find a brother,
...

They left her there, at the junction,
bleeding from torn rags that once
had placed her in the company of
the city's bourgeoisie, as one of them,
...

Lord, it is time, a lengthy summer ends,
so throw your shadow onto sundial clocks,
as I await the forest winds you send,
command all fruits to ripen, full and well
...

Now the instructor straps the harness to his chest
some forty kilo of the best explosive stuff,
he's training what he knows to be the very best
though finding their replacements can be tough.
...

He'd been thinking about a good line
as the evening began to decline.
But she smiled with a nod
and it doesn't seem odd
...

I have, he said lost all my sense of humour.
Perhaps I did, my Lord, perhaps I did.
It is what drove me, do not question this,
but once the gods decide it is their game,
...

He did not have the time to even whisper
the reasons for that crime against his kin,
there was no room inside my damaged heart
for any mercy or a whiff of past humanity.
...

The road was dark,
conditions treacherous,
heat and humidity,
white ragged rocks,
...

There once was a man from La Jolla
he could preach so it sure would annoy ya
'on the 4th', he would brag
'I shall burn your damn flag',
...