THE DEAR TO ME

My heart is broken for those dear
Who are too weak and kind to bear
The harshness they meet in this life
From disdain to scorn and great grief.

They are looked on as senseless men.
They respect all but looked down on.
All men try to rob them their right
While they look with accepting sight.

My life will have the deepest sense
If l stand at their side of fence.
To show them that the fear of loss
Is harder than the pain of cross.

My Lord came here and cared for them
And mounted His cross to redeem
What was left of their self trust
And rise with them pressed to His chest.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A PRECIOUS GIFT

God has rewarded me with rhymes,
Well noticed by some men and dames.
They like these ropes between the hearts
And what my pen to them endites.  

This mystic gift can fast avail
To world of flesh and world of soul
As it conveys joy to the mind
And soul in this and afterworld.

It gratifies my mind and heart
And brings them both a great delight.
Don't ask about the joy of coins
As when l write l own two crowns.

A crown that makes my soul prevail
And live in heaven's happy dale.
A crown that towers on my mind
When thoughts bind me with those around.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MEN  AND  BEASTS

He wished a place where life was still
And silence spread on nearby hill.
Nothing was heard except the stream
Whose water rushed, calling to dream.

He pitched his tent on the green bank
Where trills of birds forbade to think,
And heard with nature calmness tune
Away from bombs and horrid groan.

The birds of sky did flee from men
Their rifles and bombs hoped to shun.
Not only birds but men themselves
Had got fed up with blood and knives.

Men left their hit homes and their streets
And in calm nature pitched their tents.
They fled from men to live with beasts
Which blood-shed for them was not feasts.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MY REAL WORTH

I am so glad that my own worth
Is not up to some people's dearth.
They would deny all that l have
And rank me well below a knave.

My worth is up to who love me
As they would like my best to see.
If upset, l know my bad state;
If glad, l know my state is great.

My worth is how l see myself.
Is my heart clean or with dirt rife?
People around can't see inside
As that l only can decide.

But best of all's to look at you,
And see how you my face will view
As your soft eyes instil my states:
A look from them my love creates.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE REAL BEGGAR

No brothers, sisters he has got.
He is a beggar of lone heart.
So much he needs a loving friend
Who by his side just tend  to stand.

His heart is broken for someone
Who says a good word or listen
To deep sighs that cosume his heart
But still no one would care for that.

He needs a person  who tells him
He is a man whose luck is grim.
He is like us with heart that feels
And his lost tear deep thoughts conceals.

How much he needs a touch of love,
A sweet word that a girl would give
To make his sad heart chant a song
Ere death rings farewell on its gong.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A VOICE FROM AFAR

Distance makes the voice so sweet.
It flies from a heart to greet,
Bringing words of softest kind
That it picks from distant land.

On its way it finds a key
For your heart that waits with spree
Whose charm comes from distant place
Choosing your heart for its grace.

That long journey sharpens lure
Which your heart fails to endure.
It would craze you to get near,
But where are you from that dear?

Echo has such an effect
As its source is not direct.
It comes from an obscure place
Which your  heart would pant to trace.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A FEW DAYS AGO

It was just like few days ago
When biggest worry was to go
To school and do what teachers asked
And get our nape so harshly slapped.

With eager tongues we bade the days
To pass so that they would us please
With stronger bodies and bigger brawn
Which we were glad to grow and own.

We got great pleasure when we had
All that we ate which made us glad.
It was quite wont to run and dance
As then the normal step was prance.

Just yesterday we played with girls,
Not minding their eyes, clothes, and curls.
We pulled their plaits with loudest laugh,
And they got angry and so rough.

We lived like birds caring for mouth
Flitting wherever we found mirth.
Life was made to enjoy its days,
And nights to sleep waiting sunrays.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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