Selam G. Sekuar
Biography of Selam G. Sekuar
An Enthusiast. An Aries. Adventurous. Can be Quick-Witted sometimes. I seldom write poems and share them with everybody here. Feel free to share your comments.
Selam G. Sekuar Poems
I am crazy enough to jump off a bridge for you Even when i have seen you only once. I am crazy enough to still be thinking about you Even when i know nothing of you at all
I think that I'm the teacher's pet. But trust me, I'm no poodle. I know the answers to the tests and like to read an oodle!
A genuine girl One who is smart A sincere girl She's true from the start
Wish You Were Here
Ten months have passed I`ll never forget the day Someone came to tell me That you`d gone away
A Night Traveler
I am a night traveler Travel all through the night And my bed is a sailing boat I reach for my bed every night
Journey From A Small Place
I think I'll journey out some day to wondrous lands afar, Or even chart a journey to a distant blazing star. I make a journey in a paper A contemplation ink in white field
My Father's Hats
Sunday mornings I would reach high into his dark closet while standing on a chair and tiptoeing reach higher, touching, sometimes fumbling
Sometimes in the evening when love tunes its harp and the crickets celebrate life, I am like a troubadour in search of friends, loved ones,
'Boun Compleanno Grande Erotico'
If we didn't have birthdays, You wouldn't be you. If you'd never been born, Well then what would you do?
The Zodiac Reck
Our vernal signs, the RAM begins, Then comes the BULL, in May the TWINS; -
When All The Words Are Gone
What do you write when all words escape your mind? What do you say when there's nothing left to say? Is it romance, beauty, trust, pain that you put to paper when all words are gone? Or is it the blank indifference of empty mind and empty sheet?
Today again I am hardly myself. It happens over and over. It is heaven-sent.
My Father's Hats
Sunday mornings I would reach
high into his dark closet while standing
on a chair and tiptoeing reach
higher, touching, sometimes fumbling
the soft crowns and imagine
I was in a forest, wind hymning
through pines, where the musky scent
of rain clinging to damp earth was
his scent I loved, lingering on