Herbert Nehrlich Poems

And when you finish with your piece of genuine art
go grab your trumpet, blow until they truly hear.
A trumpet may produce a lengthy trumpet fart
pay no attention, both are welcomed by the ear.
...

He flipped through them, just page by page
the archives of his life, god-given and precise.
Skin peeling off arthritic fingers at this stage
ingested wisdom and fatigue from battles, in his eyes.
...

It is I, Cantadora,
creator of dreams
for the feeble of mind
and the pressure at seams
...

An echo from the dark green shore
now permeates each open pore,
from murky depths and plankton's slime
a spark ignites of active lime.
...

A surgeon called Stanislav Slaughter
took his blond anorexic young daughter
to a pigs' knuckle feast
(yes, the pig was deceased)
...

Das mit dem Haar ist gelogen
und der Schniedel ist auch nicht gebogen,
doch die Zaehne die wackeln
wie die Haare bei Dackeln
...

I wake when she disturbs the layers of soft feather,
my inner man is rushing to and fro
she makes excuses, 'look at this fine weather',
I nod but briefly, wishing her to go.
...

Santa Claus who was returning
from the chimney fires burning
had delivered all the presents
to the workers and the peasants.
...

Am Friedhof steht ein alter Mann
guckt auf das Grab, den Stein und dann
wiegt er den Kopf so hin und her
als fiele ihm das Hoeren schwer.
...

Viewed, oh my God,
the Gift-O-The-Gab
yellow-faced, odd
on a cold marble slab.
...