THE UNAVOIDABLE JUDGE
Past acts, you don't die; you live with us.
You impose yourselves as our judge.
The decree you give you can dispatch
to the sleeping minds that wake and hark.

We imagine that no one has known
or who could see us are not alive.
Other people die, but the past deeds
will remain as long as minds survive.

Persons can be met from time to time,
like a dream we have but can't repeat,
but the minds are like the shining sun
from which we can't flee or hope to shun.

Minds are bells that always play the tunes
our past dictates through our deeds,
but those tunes are played not as we wish
but as acts remind the minds to croon.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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EACH HAS HIS GAIN.
Lonely boat, don't you fear the rough sea?
Waves are high, land is far, and you're small.
What do you gain from this long voyage?
All is lost in the case your sail's torn.

When you sail, you think of the far land.
Who tells you that one day it appears?
A rash whale might upturn your small hull
and send you sinking down to the depth.

"This is life, my dear sir, all men face."
He tells me, "You spend time on your verse.
If you reach your great aim, you will gain
what l dream when l reach my far land."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THERE ARE STILL WHO AMEND.
They tell me life gets crowded with knaves.
I agree as l meet lots of them.
Like the weeds, they destroy the rose buds
ere they flourish and fill land with smell.

The world squirms tired of what they do
for no reason but to please themselves.
Others look with disgust at their filth,
but the harm which they cause revives them.

I wonder how the world can forgive,
and the honest with them can survive.
A soft voice in my mind assures me
life can't get quite void of who amend.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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LOVE TO AVOID REGRET.
You can feel a soft touch fill your heart
when you have profound love for all men.
Never think of their deeds that hurt you.
Days wipe them and show you your old grudge.

Think of those who loved you but their acts
caused you pain that made you turn your face.
When days passed and they got far from you,
you see them perfect men, and blame self.

Look at dawn that's fought with the night's hue
and appears a soft view of red light.
Never deem that it is rather cold;
in a jiff it becomes a dark night.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THEY NEED EACH OTHER.
Self-centered fellows think they are great men.
They can attract some women to their beds,
assuming they are clever and they think
that women run to sigh on their wide chests.

How can we compare those most stupid men
with those who respect women and their roles,
like what was performed by Marie Currie,
who could achieve what those lewd men ignore.

Women, you are the wife who fills the house
with her sweet laughter and her silent work.
You are much brighter than those who suppose
you are created to be ruled by men.

You are the mother who stays up the night
to look after her child who needs her care.
You don't heed what some men would proudly say
as both are born to sigh on their mate's chest.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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LOVE IS ONE.
Love, you are one, but seem in various ways
like that which brings a man to his dear girl,
or mothers to their kids, and Christ to us,
and you are pure and clean in all your forms.

You are so pure, and have a snow-white hand,
that wants to give and touch to please and guard.
The lover does not touch to please himself,
but to delight the person whom he loves.

The lover's life is not of great concern.
He lives for whom he loves and for her smile.
He is prepared to risk all what he owns
to see that whom he loves is in full joy.

So pure is she to him that he can't deem
it proper to dress her chaste face in red.
He gets near her with well anointed hands
to make her feel she gets much more sublime.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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HE CAN'T SEE THEM HAPPY.
A kind bee and a flower are in love.
The devil looks at them and feels annoyed.
He goes to that bee and asks it to try
to fly so high to feel how cool it's there.

He tells the flower that the bee is false.
He's seen it flirting with a shameless ant.
They both get mad and change their little minds;
they've thought the devil knows what's good for them.

The bee flies high; a passing bird eats it.
The flower closes on itself and weeps.
The devil sees what's happened to them both;
quite satisfied, he goes back to his hell.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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