Five Poems by Milton P. Ehrlich Ph.D.

 

ARTISTS AND THE REST OF US

 

Creative artists sense

what others fail to observe.

They apprehend surprises

in what normal eyes dismiss

as nothing special.

Not blinded by the banality

of conventionality,

artists have the curiosity

and imagination

to experience life

with the fresh eyes

of a young child.

Psychoanalysts label

it: Regression in the

service of the ego.

Ordinary folks wonder

If artistic talent requires

a degree of madness,

and or the courage

to defy all customs.

When in a quest for

beauty and truth,

and you’re not afraid

to test your true potential—

you ‘ll be the first to find out

if the light gets in.

HOW WILL I KNOW IF I’M DEAD?

 

I no longer see or hear too well,

and my creaky old bones can barely move,

and who is that creepy old guy in the mirror

who seems to be making funny faces at me?

My heart should be stopping any day now

since it must be grinding to a halt like my

grandfather’s clock died a few days ago.

Visitors keep asking the name of my favourite

poem and all I can say is I’m hard at work on

my most memorable poem which I hope will

be the next poem I get published and I can die

with a smile on my face.

ONLY POETRY LASTS

 

Everything else is ephemeral.

We sleep to awaken and find new words

in the air so we can sleep again.

Blooming flowers fade away like blushing

young schoolgirls at their first school dance.

I hug you like you’ve never been hugged before.

No strings attached, only the wish to hold you

until morning sunlight shines on your lovely face.

Falling in love can break your heart.

Honeymoon of love blows over in time

as heat of summer becomes autumn.

Shooting stars pin prick your eyes and vanish.

Sound of music becomes utter silence.

Tides keep flowing in and out and in and out.

Wars end in peace and starts again in another war.

Songbirds sing until asleep and sing again.

Trees fall and rot until they grow again.

Smiles and laughter provide temporary relief,

grief has a long life. Jealousy rages on and on and on

searching for a love that can’t be found.

Plucked strings of a guitar reverberate in the air

Summoning young and old to get up and move

in a Flamenco dance. Buglers play taps for old soldiers

who never die, they just fade away like dry land

in a drought until it rains again. Impermanence

is here to stay as long as you don’t count on it.

THE POWER OF LOVE

 

What was the mysterious force

that drove you to me and me to you—

custom designed for each other,

how could we ever part?

We found each other hard to resist

and could not have been otherwise,

bound together with invisible glue.

It rained rose petals until the earth

opened up and embraced us with

nasturtiums everywhere attracting

bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.

The light in your eyes will lead me to you.

I’m unwilling to survive without you.

I want to start all over again—

drowning you with enough kisses

to remember me loving you,

and you loving me and us together

forever more.

THE SLIPKNOT OF LOVE

 

It can look sturdy as a square knot,

but can be easily undone.

Watch what happens if it’s pulled too tight:

It’s here today in golden feathers—gone tomorrow

like a flapping fish thrown on dry ground.

She had a penchant for masquerades,

and his hurt feelings metastasized—until

he could no longer look her in the eye

or wait for a love that never came to be.

Once he began looking over her shoulder—

she knew it was over.

 

Milton P. Ehrlich Ph.D. is a 90-year-old psychologist and a veteran of the Korean War. He has published many poems in periodicals such as the London Grip, Arc Poetry Magazine, Descant Literary Magazine, Wisconsin Review, Red Wheelbarrow, Christian Science Monitor, and the New York Times.