MEN AND TEARS
It's said that men are hard and should not weep.
Their hearts are made of rock and harder still.
When it begins to rain, the rocks get wet.
This dew is not their tears. It is the rain.

The rocks have got an inside made of flint.
So must be your hearts, men. Leave tears to girls.
The dew of roses is mixed with their tears
if they don't have sharp thorns to keep hands off.

A man has thorns that lurk in his strong arms.
These thorns can vent the anger in his heart.
The men whose thorns are blunt or shaved by life
will find in tears the outlets for their wrath.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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MAN'S FAMILY, HIS TALENTS
You give Me, Father, Your most precious kids.
I keep them safe and in a glorious state.
They are as dear to Me as You love them.
I keep them in My eyes. They are My sight.

The men You give Me l ask them to take
their children, who should be as dear to them.
They should keep them as safe as l have done,
and give them what they need to be so great.

As parents, they will take as l've received.
Their kids are not just theirs, but gifts from You.
They are the talents that You give all men,
and You will ask about what they have done.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RightS RESERVED
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THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FEAST
Approaching feast, your night before is great.
We expect all the pleasure we await.
You are not born, so you can't go so soon.
We dream of your nice pleasure and your boon.

You  are the day on which we all are thrilled
and have the meals we love where cooks are skilled.
We meet the girls whose eyes are full of love,
but coy to say what they ask from above.

How great is life when we look forward to
the sparks of joy that fill the coming view.
We wait for what can fill the heart with life
as all the prospects are with joy so rife.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE BLISS OF IGNORANCE
There is a cave not far from my small town,
up in the middle of a ***** so steep.
The people of my town feared that grim spot
as they narrated tales about a ghost.

An old man'd lived in that most horrid cave.
He died some time ago, but old men said
his ghost appeared to them when they went there
and asked those men to leave or bear revenge.

Nobody could get near and it was called
the haunted cave that all the people feared.
I mean no one except a tourist who
stayed there to save the cost of dear hotels.

The people asked him if he saw a ghost.
"What ghost !" He asked as he feared ghosts so much.
He did not see a thing, but left the cave
and went to lavish inns for tranquil nights.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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CHILDHOOD
Childhood is the proper tree
in which joy can build its nest.
It's the time of purest glee
when the fruit is of rich taste.

You give us the shade where love
can prosper under your leaves
where we hear the cooing dove
sing the love which in it heaves.

We grow up and life gives us
lots of gifts to cheer and rove,
but we feel the joyful sense
is still inside childhood's cove.

Childhood, time of true delight,
life's white moments with you hide.
Christ wants all to dress as white
ere they dwell in His pure land.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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I ADHERE TO YOU.
If You send me just a word, my Lord,
to assure me that You are quite near,
I would leave my silver and my gold
and upleap and dance in your wide sphere.

What can gold and silver give my heart
to release it from its fear and care.
Only when l hear Your voice around
of the tranquil life l get aware.

We get stuck to those who are the cause
which endows us life to live on earth.
Lambs get stuck to mothers for their food;
I adhere to You for peace and mirth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THEY CAN'T SWERVE.
Everyone sees on his way in life
buckets full of liquids, some are sweet.
Some are bitter like the hateful spite.
Man can choose what his free soul will fit.

Some have met great failure in their life,
and have got a mind so full of pride.
Sweetness seems too soft to gratify
all the grudges which with them abide.

Poor are they; l wonder how they can
tolerate the bitterness they live.
They make people hate their face and tongue,
but their spiteful way they never swerve.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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