GIRLS
Girls are made to fill the world
with what's lovely and so good.
When they pass me in the street,
they fill my nose with sweet scent.

They are like a jasmine tree
with green eyes so full of glee,
smoothest touch with lovely hue;
I see them as charming view.

Those old men who are so prim
stare at them with their old whim,
claiming girls have lost their shame;
they gape at them just to blame.

Girls for me can make my wife,
mothers who bring us to life,
sisters who can be so great,
daughters who are hearts and sight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE  SWEET  SERFDOM
I sit beside you and forget the world,
and find myself on wings that take me high
to glide with clouds so white, so chaste and pure
that only dreamworlds such a sense ensure.

Your hands have smoothness that tickles my heart
and gives it female warmth that once it starts,
I can't detach my heart that gets your own
as what your warmth creates is magic crammed.

Your words are said with such a female tune
that stirs the feelings l'm so fond to live.
They give the rapture  of a farfetched song
that begets love and forces it to yield.

Your softness is not just what women have.
It is so touching that my heart can't skip.
Once felt, it shackles me with magic chains
whose serfdom is much sweeter than free will.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THAT'S ALL I WANT.
My love is like a ship. It sails across
an ocean long and wide with waves of mighty force.
I feel so lonely and l try to see
a creature that will bring my heart deep glee.

Some albatrosses fly behind my ship.
I throw them fish that come under my grip
as they give me a tranquil sense and ease
of fellow creatures that my heart can please.

All of a sudden, l behold a mermaid
that charms my heart and distracts my fond mind.
It gains my heart and soul as beauty has a charm
that only heaven can obtain its balm.

I follow her not caring where she swims.
Let her take me to this world outer rims.
I know she is half woman, half a fish.
To live with her pure eyes is what l wish.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THEIR EYES DRESS MY OUTSIDE LOOK.
Give me a clean inside and l don't care
for all my outer state if foul or fair.
Let all the people say l am a thief
if l am certain that l lead clean life.

Let all accuse my honour and my name
and all my friends indict me for deep shame.
If l look inside and find myself clean,
I feel as fresh and pure as winter rain.

Nothing can disturb my inner clean white
if that pure ****** snow lives in my heart,
but whiteness can't be true when dressed as clothes
as it can hide the dirt that the heart loathes.

I scrupulously dress myself inside.
Let people dress me as my deeds decide.
If they have ***** eyes, that is their flaw.
That can't smear my heart or change its hue.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

GOD AND MAN
A little child at age of two
has learnt to curse and curses you.
Would you beat him or cause him pain,
or would you laugh at his small brain?

How can that child arouse your ire
or make you angry and desire
to pour your anger on a kid
to cause him sorrow for his deed?

Imagine that you don't forgive
this little mind and on him drive
your greatest wrath to cause him pain.
In this case, who has the small brain?

You don't beat him, but just you smile
and laugh at his too childish style.
You kiss him and you make him know
your love, and then he won't curse you.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A PORTRAIT OF TWO CREATURES
A little boy of four is outside home.
He has a sandwich of delicious ham.
A cat rubs him and looks up with a mew.
He says, "All right, l'll share my meal with you.

"A bite for you and one for me all through.
I know your bites are small, but they will do.
I'll take small bites as l want to be fair.
Then both of us can take the correct share.

"This is the final round with its large meat.
Take just your due and give me mine to eat."
He offers it, and the cat eats much more
than is assigned to it as said before.

"You are a greedy cat. Why did you eat
more than your share of that delicious meat?
I'll tell my mum," he goes home crying loud.
The cat feels sorry, but it likes that round.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A  PRAYER
You know me better than l know
my deepest thoughts and what l feel.
I feel too weak and stretch my arms
to beg your eyes to see my fears.

I am a man and have a heart
that has some wishes to achieve.
I pass from failure to mean state
and hide my eyes from who demean.

I beg you and look up and pray
I need your grace that gives me faith.
It can uplift my heart to feel
that my wounds are not wasted pain.

My hunger is so hard to bear.
I beg you to blend it with hope
that makes me able to endure
and not fall down as the weak drop.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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