ENTREATY

I'm a child whose toy has a defect.
All the time, l feel sad and abject.
My dear Dad, can't You bring back my smile,
And mend what makes my blood tend to rile?

Dad, You are my sole hope Who can give
What l wait from Your hand to receive.
I'm too frail; l can't mend what is wrong.
I depend on Your hand which is strong.

I just sit in my cradle and weep.
No one cares for my tears that cut deep.
They tell me to cheer up and be glad.
How can l? My dear toy looks so sad.

My dear Dad, please feel what l go through.
All my hope is quite centered on You.
I can't smile and my toy is like that.
Please my Dad, bring joy back to my heart.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MANAGE  WITHOUT!

He is lonely with none in his hand,
For his daily needs and food demand,
Yet he deems himself a man of thought
Though no coins to publish what he wrote.

Still he sticks to honour and its cost.
He would like to guide though he is lost.
What he wants from life is just some love,
For the trust in self and just a shove.

Where is love if coins do not support?
Life itself will **** it and abort.
Love costs quiet a lot to live and grow;
It can't live on thoughts to get aglow.

Man of thought, you've lived deprived of fun,
Spent your time in gloom, no light of sun.
Can't you manage short of love to live
If you want to keep your thoughts alive?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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CONSCIENCE  CALL

Conscience call, you are the voice of God,
That in hearts of men, you shout so loud
And tell us when little men we hurt
As we destroy dreams that hearts assert.

She walked long ways searching for jasmine
And was glad she could a bunch obtain
When he crossed her way and just for fun
He threw her bunch in the stream and ran.

Nothing she could do but looking up
At the sky, where all the weak get hope,
And went with a tear inside her eye.
She did not retort, but just asked why.

Life on earth has its own secret ways
As God always in the conscience stays.
He speaks with us and makes us repent,
And the wrong that we have done lament.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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BORING  PEOPLE

What can one do in a boring crowd?
Those around him of true sense are void,
And their accent is of haughty mind.
He feels lost and comfort does not find.

He exploits the power inside him
To impose a smile wide but dim.
It makes matters worse to those who see,
And he seeks a chance just to get free.

Where have birds of feather flocked and flown?
Those who are around are quite unknown,
Not in person but the way they think
That can drive him to sheer madness brink.

He fills all his face with empty smiles,
Longing to be far a thousand miles
As he hates to see the others hurt
While his nerves he can no more exert.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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YOUR FACE OR THE MOON?

I went uphill with her to see the moon,
And live an atmosphere so kind and boon.
Got there, l felt my mind uprose so high
And lived in Eden that could charm my eye.

I looked up; l could see the moon was bright.
It filled the world with lovely orange light.
I thought the moon could paint this comely scene;
Its rays could light the site and its dark screen.

I loved the moon for what it could create
As both my heart and soul could high elate.
A glance at your most charming, quiet eyes
Made me the true creator recognize.

I felt they were much dearer than the moon.
They were the spell that could our hearts attune.
I looked at what the sky could brightly light
And found your face would be a better sight.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MAN AND DIRT

Man has greatest trend for a clean heart.
Dirt can make man bear some pain too smart.
But a lure to gain the world makes him
Tend to use wrong ways of ***** whim.

Man can't bear the dirt on his seen flesh.
Fast he moves to clean it and get fresh.
No one bears the sight of dirt and filth.
They deprive him of his mood of mirth.

Dirt of soul can cause more painful sense.
You can't clean it by a quick defence.
You need Lord of souls to wash you clean.
Only He can bring you back serene.

Hands are yours and can clean when you want;
Lord of souls you can't control his font.
His unseen work can't be always done.
We are weak and can't that weakness shun.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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ABORTION

Man is always with who has much strength
Who defends himself and has much wealth.
All look down on who is poor and frail,
And for his clear rights he can't fight well.

Embryo, who will defend your right
If your mother does not for you fight?
You have no one except tender folk
Who speak meekly when they tend to talk.

You are helpless if your mother's hard
She herself will your young life discard.
You have no help save your Lord above
Who beholds you with an eye of love.

Can you dream that your mum feels so glad
If laws of all countries with her stand.
Mothers **** and all should share the crime
As their victims' shouts to their hearts climb.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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