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Maples, proudly
showing
scarlet leaves,
in brazen wind.
An icy prominence,
he shuffles
down the path,
well-lined by
powdered birches.
No sound is heard,
a prickly feeling
of melancholy happiness
engulfing gently
his frail physique.
Yes, 'Welcome',
the word
slips easily
off bluish lips
as solitude now beckons
and offers up
a bed of moss
to rest a little while.
It was a miracle
that, strangely,
he had reached
down here
on earth
his paradise.
Herbert Nehrlich
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4.8
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(5 votes) |
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Click here to write your comments about this poem (A Passing by Herbert Nehrlich)
Denis Joe (11/24/2005 6:16:00 AM)
Truely beautiful piece Herbert, The imagary is just wonderful and succeeds in being a portrait. Also, though the opening line would suggest an expectation of sadness the final verse comes across as celebratory.
There is, I feel, a strong religious feel, as if you are talking about Christ. If this is the case I have to say that I am an atheist, but I recognise that religion has inspired some of the greatest art. So I have no trouble with, what I presume, is the subject.
Congratulations on a great work.
Denis Joe |
Mary Nagy (11/15/2005 5:17:00 AM)
I found this to be very touching Herbert. Great poem. Sincerely, Mary |
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