Poems by Milton P. Ehrlich




When you climb up as high

as you can, you can touch all

her curves wherever they are,

and feel love as it’s meant to be.

Linger at her roots and you will

know the truth of whether your

flower can only speak the truth.

Taste the apple of your eye and

you will be the first to know if her

sweetness is as genuine as honey.

There are no words that can be

believed as well as your body that

speaks with the unsayable words

of the ecstasy and agony of passion.




When did I miss you?

Let me count the ways:

Only 24 hours of every day

and night—especially the night,

when only your ghost appears

in my empty room under the shadows

of the moon to watch me massage

your back until you fall asleep.

Your departure feels like I might

as well had my right arm torn off

at the Yalu River in our hasty retreat.

Now only the vibrating hum of my

phantom limb keeps me company.

Drenched in tears, I struggle to sleep

as I sing the best hymns to the Blues.




Life without you is no life at all,

just another boring movie

without you as the star.

All I can do to save myself

is to get on the path

of sensory awareness

and approach everything

as if it was new.

I’ll allow each breath

to come at its own volition

and react to every experience

as it is and not as it should be.

I will let go of passing thoughts

and strive to be present,

allowing me to be curious

about what happens next,

offering me the possibility

of discovering an untouched

breath of creative inspiration.



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.


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