Poem By Herbert Nehrlich

The melting snow had barely now
revived the placid creeks,
gray-coated wolves were keen
to hump the loins
of those who would be proud
to show off bellies in the Spring.

There would be solemn sheep,
aghast against the breeze,
and welcoming the yellow fangs
of masters that had come
to claim their prey today.

No creature seemed to dwell
on what the meaning of
it all could be, as chaos ruled
it spat its righteous mist
into mosquito skies.
To die without a whisper there
and then. Who'd hear the cries?

A solitary squirrel, bushy-tailed,
slipped sliding down the path of sullen clay.
No wolf would ever get its precious hide,
at least until the dawn of yet another day.

Comments about Spring

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of NEHRLICH


I always have liked soccer.
Such a rough game.
Such skills required.
And popular.

A Bumblebee Turns Gay

There was a little bumblebee
he went down on his bumble knee
and told the queen that he was gay
this message caused her much dismay

The Art Of Writing Limericks

A limerick can be rather funny
when the syllables are on the money.
But when none of it fits
it can give you the shits


I stopped right at the scene of tragedy.
She stood, head bowed, long neck, wings drooping,
and motionless until she saw my face.
Damn, it was obvious, he had been truly slaughtered,

......Of Gold?

I was not looking when you found me
you stopped just long enough to smile.
I felt your presence all around me
and hoped that you would stay awhile.

A Little Bit Of Darkness

It had gone dark in my world.
An invisible sadness, one of substance
drifted in, from a horizon so far
and so unknown to me,