THE BEST PRAYER
When l sit for my prayer, l see You,
sitting with me so l never review
what l was taught when young, but l just say
how lucky l have been with You to stay.

I sit with You and feel the world is mine.
The place gets sweet as Your words are like wine.
They make me live in skies far from all care
and dress my heart and mind in brilliant wear.

You are the love l need, the words that teach
how man should live the love that God can reach.
You give me hope to see that life is nice
You are the Lord Whose face is full of grace.

I speak with You and fully l forget
that l sit just to pray and not to chat.
You say,"Go on with what you say and do.
This is the best prayer, great saints can show."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SURPRISED !
Surprised an stunned, how can you read such themes
and don't say just a word to criticize?
Don't they concern the life that you go through
or are these subjects strange to human eyes?

Am l an alien who has come from far,
or has someone outfitted me with it?
How can l speak about some trivial thoughts,
while serious ones can move my mind and heart?

I expect some few words to tell me what
you think about these themes that stun us all.
Perhaps, l see your points, which change my mind
and we can reach the answers that us cool.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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IS IT WORTHWHILE?
You may imagine l'm out of my brain,
but wisdom may be had from those insane.
No gain can equal that you feel quite pure
and free from care with nothing to endure.

No *** is used without a base of love
as love makes mates just one blessed from above.
Since they feel so, they can build one great home,
and nothing between them can arouse blame.

How can one touch the other's secret parts
that are related to deep love and hearts,
and then feels that his mate's a usual one
with nothing shared between or nothing done.

What can *** give if it is not for good.
It yields a touch that lasts a mere second.
Then blame begins to build up and to mount;
it brings remorse that makes you feel you're dirt.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WHEN CAN I STRETCH MY HAND?
Nothing on the earth deserves
living for, save a pure heart
since a person then will feel
he can stretch his hand to Christ.

When you look at what He did,
how He dealt with those around,
and compare your life with His,
You'll be sure your aim is found.

Dangers of life make me deem
how He helped those who were poor;
I aspire to  His hand
to release me from my fear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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DO YOU ASK THIS QUESTION?
Those men the past unfolds tell who live now
how life is great if man knows how to live.
There were some people who knew how to build
the pyramids, and those who great help gave.

There were who spent it in moving around.
No bad actions to do, but nothing good,
and those who spent it in committing sins.
Jesus told us how men their talents used.

Here, l just stop to ask, "How do l use
my talents, and do l please my great Lord?"
It is a serious point that raises fear.
Does this question for once go through your mind?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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BEAUTY AND TIME
I live great love that simmers in my heart.
It aches sometimes as it becomes too hot
as beauty changes fast just like a rose
that prides itself on what so soon it throws.

You are created thus to gain deep love.
Who can see such a rose and does not crave
to smell its perfume when a breeze drifts past,
all except time that speeds to sweep it fast?

In heart, you live for long but not in bloom.
Do you exist fast time to bring man gloom?
All beauty has a charm, we love a lot.
This charm is felt much more when it is short.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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FLINT OR FLESH
When a man's oppressive and too hard,
I abhor with such a man to stand.
I detest who says the final word;
then, no other word from him is heard.

Men of right and wrong, where is your heart?
It's in self respect, the kin of hate.
Where are those tears which can harshness cool?
Are they submerged by the greatness' drool?

Great is that whose heart is white like snow,
which the rays of love its anger thaw,
and transmute to water that can wash
all the sorry hearts that flint would crash.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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