AN ANGEL SERVES A SAINT.

None can wipe off what your hand has done.
It's depicted near the flaming sun
By the Lord Who dwells in His high skies;
None dare look at it with human's eyes.

Your acts are towards a mother dear.
You don't want another to come near.
All the time yours replace her old hand
And no one but you she would demand.

You have been in such a post for long.
Words from you sound like her sweetest song.
You are locked beside her for long years.
Just an angel lives such life with cheers.

Mum and daughter you have been for long.
She sang lullabies when you were young.
Songs of yours have been so sweet to her;
Dreams of past days in both hearts they stir.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HEARTS OF STONES

When you extend your hand and l stretch mine
The two most eager hearts meet on cloud nine.
We both get joyous as you want me glad,
And l can't smile if l find your face sad.

I do my best but find those whom l love
Shake hands as if my dirt demands a glove.
I lose my nerves and get so much depressed
As those l love want me to turn distressed.

How hard life is when those you love refuse,
And your kind acts they purposely abuse.
You show that without them you cannot live,
But their looks show that they want you to leave.

Why do some people have the hearts of stone
That nothing can make soft or deeds atone?
Their stupid minds insist till they destroy
The sparks of love in you and gleams of joy.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MARRIAGE, A NEW BIRTH

She is so loved in parents' house,
The toy of all, and joy main source.
All members find in her their joy.
She is for all their main life buoy.

They bring her what she loves to eat
To get her smile, so cute and sweet.
She brings her house a man one day,
Her choice to share with him her way.

What will that man bring her new life?
She finds in him a new birth strife.
What sort of life will he create?
To what new land will they migrate?

He is the captain who will sail
Her sailboat which is small and frail.
What will this birth show her and give?
Is it worth what she plans to leave?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HONEST CRITICISM

When people check what l indite
They fill my heart with great delight.
If l am wrong, they show the flaw
And fill my eyes and mind with light.

They show my lines deserve their strain
And they try my thoughts to attain.
They respect me, and l the same
As we both new viewpoints obtain.

My father used to criticize
My faults and me used to advise.
That's what makes me who speaks with you,
A man who correct thoughts applies.

Those, who with love my faults correct,
I owe deep love, the greatest debt.
If they correct and hark defence,
Their thoughts and mine deserve respect.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE LOVING DUCK

A duck was walking in the street
With little ducklings near its feet.
A duckling fell inside a drain;
The cover could fat mum detain.

It waited out quacking for help.
Some people came to grant that step.
It waited long till duckling came
And joined again the anxious mum.

I wonder if men are like ducks:
They fill the land with loudest quacks
For ***, the source of chicks, their love
The same with hens, a bird and dove.

Wise men and women practice ***
In ways artistic and complex,
But they use pills new life to ****,
In urgent flaws abortion skill.

If that poor child is among us,
How long do we stay in the house?
I wish that duck will make us think
That life is not mere *** and drink.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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DUTY AND FEAR

A craven act derives great shame
And makes you feel you are too small.
You commit it and proudly claim
That strength is master of us all.

What makes a person use his might,
Opposing all those cheated crowd,
Or shouting for the death of Christ
When all their leaders wished Him dead?

Saint Peter escaped shy to speak
Though he was faithful and quite strong.
The poor could shout and so the weak
As they were shouting with the throng.

But Peter wept as he could not
Say what he thought to wrathful men.
Words of the truth would cost a lot;
Who can fight beasts in their wild den?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

GOOD POETRY

When people write and call it verse,
Their lines must have appeal and sense,
Which draws attention to a thought
With depth and meaning must be fraught.

When words are joined in skilful way,
They make your verse a lovely tray,
But when we look at gifts on it,
We will be fully frustrated.

For me the contents should come first
To charm the readers by its gist.
I want the tray to be quite clean,
But what it holds should please the brain.

When thoughts have charm, that pleases much
As your verse can its purpose reach;
But when you give your lines good form,
That gives your contents much more charm.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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