Poem Hunter
(04 October 1943 / Germany)


Poem By Herbert Nehrlich

All creatures deep inside are quite aware
that it's the heart and, with it, its sweet beat
only its never-ending flutter lets us share
a bit of time upon this planet, where we meet
so many creatures and, above all real humans
who all do strive to stay as long as they're allowed
they fiddle with their health and look at cardiac lumens
and hope the gods remember what the sheep have vowed.

There is a little thing that's often mentioned
it does concern our interpersonal communication
no matter, highly motivated or so well-intentioned
it's what may make us give enough consideration
to one small word, and that is, vaguely, called respect.
Respect for the law
and for Ma and Pa,
for the crooked Police
for Canadian geese,
for the Judges and Preachers
and for needlework teachers
for the butchers and bakers
and the skilled coffinmakers,
for the nurses and bitches
and burglars and snitches
for all druggies and whores
and the owners of stores
thus, the list could continue
to a different venue
but suffice it to say
that respect is not play
and it can't be demanded
or delivered and handed
against payment of gold
no, respect can't be sold.

If your heart can take care
of necessities, bare
you can use all your time
to prepare and to climb
'til you reach Peak Respect
where you'll sit and reflect
and look inside your mind
where you possibly find
in the tangle of nerve
the respect you deserve.

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Comments (3)

Nice and so true.....very true!
You deserve more respect for this poem. I liked it and it had a lot of meaning. Great job.
This is very good Herbert. I always had a problem with people that 'Demanded respect! ' They never got it from me because of the demand. Sincerely, Mary