Biography of Herman Sequira
Herman Sequira Poems
Stranger At The Door
The old man now nigh eighty years Reflects upon his past, His wrinkled eyes reflect his fears He has not long to last.
The cliffs to her were beckoning; In fear did she approach the edge. On that sad day of reckoning She stood, unsteady, on that ledge.
There is a river dark and still, Behind a house, atop a hill. There in it's depths my lover lies And nightly I can hear her cries.
Oh, ecstasy! What hast thou done? Thy pleasure stripped me bare; My beauty's gone, thou leaveth me With serpents for my hair.
A Quiet Place
This quiet place reveals His grace. I meditate and pray; For here I find true peace of mind By night or light of day.
The Love That Never Was
I sit beneath the apple tree Where shady bliss relaxes me And heavy-eyed, in reverie, I wait for my true love.
If Only I...
A callow mind would be inclined To taking reckless leaps; But safety nets prevent regrets And lives in broken heaps.
The forest path was growing dim As dusk's descent came much too fast And I imagined creatures grim, But they were merely shadows cast.
Victims Of Ourselves
The glory of a newborn day, now lost in mists of smog, And sunsets hide behind a veil of gray, polluted fog. The moon is but a muted glow and stars no longer shine. Celestial lights have disappeared, disguising God's design.
The old lady waits and she peers Through dusty, half closed blinds, And when a tall young man appears, Her heart, new joy it finds.
The Old House
A visit to my old hometown Has my emotions mixed. My mind goes drifting back in time; I stand with gaze transfixed.
I cry for help, but I'm alone As fearful creatures round me creep And chilling winds cut to my bone, I try to waken from my sleep.
There he stands, with hat in hand, A pitiful sight to see. Once blond hair now dirty brown, And tattered dungaree.
Take Me Now, Death
In the blink of an eye, I'm in life's afternoon. Speed onward I pray; O Death come for me soon. My three score and ten are now thirty years past; I plead for the end, as the die has been cast.
The Old House
A visit to my old hometown
Has my emotions mixed.
My mind goes drifting back in time;
I stand with gaze transfixed.
The old house holds within its walls
The ghosts of times gone by,
And mem'ries of my childhood past
Evoke a wistful sigh.