Where the slow river
meets the tide,
a red swan lifts red wings
and darker beak,
and underneath the purple down
of his soft breast
uncurls his coral feet.

Through the deep purple
of the dying heat
of sun and mist,
the level ray of sun-beam
has caressed
the lily with dark breast,
and flecked with richer gold
its golden crest.

Where the slow lifting
of the tide,
floats into the river
and slowly drifts
among the reeds,
and lifts the yellow flags,
he floats
where tide and river meet.

Ah kingly kiss --
no more regret
nor old deep memories
to mar the bliss;
where the low sedge is thick,
the gold day-lily
outspreads and rests
beneath soft fluttering
of red swan wings
and the warm quivering
of the red swan's breast.

The sprouting buttercup
dangles into the purpled,
doting sky. It's waxy spangles
nuzzle the moist,
crisply dewed, fluff
whilst billowing across merry air. 

The yellow buttercup
dozes in spiced, lean dapples,
setting its soul ablaze in sumptuous echoes at the sheer
drape of dawn.

The teacup buttercup
outspreads it's wings
amongst tall spiked grasses
and wild flowers.
Shifting shafts and shards
of grass and glass
and forever awaiting the larks cry
which means its time to die.

WOMAN  AND  JUSTICE
Where is justice in this life where muscles rule,
and your muscles are not on your arms and legs
as you can't battle with man whose arms are strong;
power resides in your heart and in your brain.

Misdeeds lead you to be slain and lose repute,
whereas he who shares your sin twirls his moustache.
Like a peacock he outspreads his feathers, pleased
while you turn to broken glass out of repair.

You exhaust yourself outside your waiting house,
and return to wash the clothes and cook the meals.
Kids must be in their attire clean and neat,
or you are accused of careless attitude.

You work outdoors and indoors to please your spouse,
who should be proud of the kids who have his name.
All that happens and sweet justice is avowed
all the people on this globe are well endowed.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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