The Cinderella Shoe

There was a letter in the mail,
I dreamed that night about
a woman named Tara McHale.
Although there were those lips that pout,
it was the presence of a breeze
made up of warmth and intellect,
she stopped for just a minute, just to tease
yet it was futile and I was not able to detect
more than the pheromones of something great,
of youth and fresh aroma, passing through,
of silent whispers knitting silk for a debate
she left behind for me her cinderella shoe.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Gina (Limerick)

There once was a sheila named Gina
she would chase from this site a hyena.
So she grabs their small balls
hurls them over the falls
then comes back as a ballerina.

She is good, also fair as a critic
and she hates matters hippocritic
since she likes what I write
and gives others a fright
I would call her brain analytic.

Long ago when I lived in Badena
I was married to Wilhelmina.
But the marriage went bust
no, it didn't lack lust
it is just that I was a Berliner.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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A Dire Emergency

It was a dire emergency,
something no frog appreciates.
A stork, his home a fancy nest
on top of the red-tiled roof,
had stabbed his hungry beak
into the gutter for a bit of green.
Frantically, since there was work to do
a veritable mountainrange of leaves
and unmentionable things
were stuck inside the downpipe
at the junction.
It was the hardest ever job he'd done,
the largest meal that could be eaten
and the happiest of all the days
a frog could even visualize.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Dic

What a beautiful baby he was,
born with a healthy sucking reflex,
noisy at night, winking Benny Hill-like
during the day, making friends and fans,
sailed through school, flirting always
with long haired teachers, 'twas the eyes,
rose through the ranks of dad's firm,
fat retirement at the conclusion of hard
and occasionally thoughtful years,
only to have it all end prematurely.
Though he never did know the term they used,
disseminated intravascular coagulation.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Flight Q 124

So, here I sit, drink rhubarb wine
and dream about my Valentine.
She's in New York to see a wizard
the telly showed a great big blizzard.
Meanwhile the wine is warming me
and sets romantic feelings free.
I ponder why my heart still flutters,
my accent-laden voice, it stutters.
And goosebumps occupy my hide
when you are sleeping by my side.
Tonight, the bed caresses Freddy
the cuddly, brown Bavarian Teddy.
And me? I sit here with my wine
and wait for you, my Valentine.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Brain Food

An Urang-utan lived in a tree
at the top for he wanted to see.
He spent most of each day
climbing up the down way
twas each time when he needed to pee.

On a Sunday, it was around nine
he was just getting ready to dine,
when a bird dropped a fish
right into his dish
and it tasted like fish and devine.

Fish is brain food, that's factual, you see,
for big apes who reside in a tree,
thus this fish did bestow
what a human would know:
He could pee from the top of the tree.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Poetry Practice (Kids)

I have a little brown-eyed horse
it bites me from behind,
shows neither mercy nor remorse
I wish my horse were kind.

I have a little blue-eyed goat
he lies and steals from me
last week he stole my paddleboat
and took it out to sea.

I have a little green-eyed frog
he slept inside my bed,
I should have left him in the log
because he now is dead.

I know an ugly-eyed, obese
and sniffling ball of slime,
it's swinging in the evening breeze
a happy unsolved crime.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Theo

Dedicated to Theodora Onken

There once was a man from Angora
who had eyes on our sweet Theodora,
she said foreigners will
never fight to the kill.
He went back to the box of Pandora.

I have missed this peculiar soul,
she had left and abandoned her role.
When she stopped in for tea
it was easy to see
she was real and never a troll.

She has mentioned that what she prefers
is the limerick of his and of hers.
So I dedicate this
with a frontal bone kiss
which we can, if desired, rehearse.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Out Yourself - Not

Inside a pond, and underwater
there lived a creature, with her daughter.
They carried both their residences
though minus any picket fences
wherever they would swim or walk
as a protection from the hawk.
You see, some hawks have fancy tastes
like oyster jam and turtle paste,
so preached the old one to her daughter
there in the cold and murky water.
But soon there only was one turtle
because the hawk had eaten Myrtle.
The moral follows now, pray tell
you're pretty safe within your shell.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Social Limerick

He was known as the local Brownbagger,
in his belt he had hidden a dagger.
As an industry rep
bribing was a small step
and the common folks surely would stagger.

When big business gets cozy and close
with the leaders, (not those who oppose)
it will take from your wallet
while it drops down your gullet
of the poison a hefty dose.

We have lost all the caring and love
that was given to us from above.
where compassion is missing
there will never be kissing
it is more advantageous to shove.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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