Herman Sequira Poems
|1.||The Sailor's Yarn||5/31/2005|
|2.||Take Me Now, Death||5/31/2005|
|5.||The Old House||5/20/2005|
|7.||Victims Of Ourselves||5/20/2005|
|9.||If Only I...||6/25/2005|
|10.||The Love That Never Was||5/20/2005|
|11.||A Quiet Place||8/4/2005|
|16.||Stranger At The Door||5/20/2005|
Comments about Herman Sequira
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.
When on his door a knock he hears
And opens it a-trembling,
He sees a stranger standing there
With face of death resembling.
With shaking voice and quaking heart
The old man begs reprieve.
'Too late, too late, we must depart
I've more to do this eve.'
Again he pleads, tho' all in vain
'This life I must correct.
Too many lives, I've caused much pain,
I cannot go just yet.'
The stranger smiles, and at his ...
There he stands, with hat in hand,
A pitiful sight to see.
Once blond hair now dirty brown,
And tattered dungaree.
Tough luck, you think, as you approach
This remnant of a man.
With scornful look, you try to keep
As distant as you can.