Best Herr Poems

March dust, worth a King's ransom.
March grass never was handsome.
Mad as a Herr goes by Ma'am.
Enters a lion, exits a lamb.

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For the March in Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
Written 03/04/2022
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You were a very bright star in post-war Germany.
On both films and stage, you garnered popularity.
Most men did not consider you a raving beauty.
However, with your pleasing plumpness, you were a cutie.
What a great talent you were.  You must have been proud.
You had a...

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Herr Vilfred consults 
his mirror.
Gawks long at himself 
in horror.


His limp receding, 
graying hair,
no longer that of a 
debonair.


Gone's the tousled look
of long ago
that used to enthrall 
women so....

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