NO FEAR, MY DAD IS NEAR.

I sit to pray; You sit with me.
I tell You what l want to say.
I do that whether l repeat
the words l've learned or my words pray.

It's great to pray while You are near.
You sit with me and hear my voice.
You see my heart and what it feels
and make me choose the perfect choice.

I am too frail when by myself.
Despite all that You still love me
because l am Your son, my Lord
and Your son l will always be.

I feel so secure if l know
I act and my Dad is so near.
I drive and travel with calm nerves,
and pass life's dangers without fear
as l know well l am Your dear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

TIME, THE FAST THIEF

Don't be proud of youth, my dear.
It won't stay with you for long.
It is something dear but swift
like enjoying a good song.

Don't trust time; it is a thief,
that will rob you and depart,
leaving you looking with sighs,
welling tears, a broken heart.

Have you got a plan in life?
Please, don't wait and run so fast.
Time, the thief, is watching you.
It seems slow, but who can trust?

Girl of twenty, don't wait long.
Run and find your hidden mate
ere that thief can outrun you
and it gets for you too late.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DEEP THOUGHTS AND LOVE

Bird, l want to fly like you,
but l don't have wings to do.
I'd like to fly and to glide,
Looking down at distant land.

I'll be free and soar, dear bird,
through the heights that none can reach
and see the clouds from above
how they hide people from me.

I'll keep going higher up
till l find a peaceful place.
There, l'll glide and meditate
on this life and people's fate.

Thoughts and gliding take me down,
and the cloud curtain is drawn.
I see people once again,
but with eyes that love all men.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A CRIMINAL TODDLER
She is young, at the age of two,
and does not know what her life hides.
She is from her mother severed
and her life is filled with dark clouds.

Her mother is divorced for sins.
She was for sure just accused of.
The child is looked at from the start
as daughter of illegal love.

As a toddler, she needs hands to lift
when she falls, but she's left to cry.
She smiles but always she receives
a scowl but she just can't know why.

She goes to her grandfather's side
expecting him to coddle her.
He pushes her and she falls down
He will of crying her deter.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

POETRY IN VERSE
The words that take men out of selves
and place them in the world of thought
where all is clear and directs them
to relish what the verse has brought.

It is in language clearly coined
to make men ken the sense with ease
and know the notion it intends
to go through hearts and them to please.

It opens men's eyes to a fact
that makes them say that's really true,
or this is how a man should be
as real perfection hides from view.

All that is done without display
of strength to get the praise we want.
It's just a gift that drops on one,
and he unveils it as new light.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A MAN AND A HAWK
Bird of prey, what can we say
except that you have no heart?
You **** creatures which are frail
just to satiate your own crop.

Yesterday, l saw you ****
linnets just near that green hill.
You ate them and left their blood
on your curved beak as a mark.

How can you feel happy when
you **** fledgelings for your chicks?
They are too small to escape
or to shun your vicious grip.

"You speak, man," says that big bird.
"You **** herds and eat their blood.
You **** for food and for fun,
and at times, your fellow men.
I **** just to stay alive
and feed my chicks which l love."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHEN THE SOUL LOVES
My love is greater than my mind can bear.
I see whom l love weak, which calls my tear.
I rush to help but feel ashamed of nagging eyes
that show my weakness though my smile tries
to hide that shameful tear that never lies.

My soul is full of love, Platonic kind,
that involves depth of heart and thoughtful mind.
I love through endless soul whose love is deep,
and ties two souls to reach a height so steep.

I speak with someone dear, and find my soul
embracing her sweet heart with love so cool,
so far from worldly touch but full of sense
that descends from the sky , the great love source.

All people are so dear if black or white
as they have touched my soul, my mind and heart.
I love it whenl hear they're coming near
and thoughts of getting far can raise my fear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

A GRAVE VICE
Love of self, you are a vice.
You can cause a deadly sin
that l cry the rest of life
and l don't know how to clean.

You could sever me from those
who helped me and l adored.
Then l  threw them to regret
those moments that won't return.

Persons who gave me great help
I deserted as l thought
they did not respect my rights.
Now, l grieve those foolish acts.

Self esteem l hate your ghost,
haunting me for my past deeds.
If l go back to that time,
I love all and you won't heed.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

JUST MOVE YOUR HAND.
If you want me, move your hand.
I'll be under your command.
I'll leave all what's dear to me
and come just your eyes to see.

With you, l live in a world
so far from the noisy crowd,
gardens with the purest stream
Where soft breeze gives hearts their aim.

You make me fly like a bird,
gliding on wings strong and wide.
Its aim is to reach the sky,
which your soft eyes can supply.

You show me what the sky gives,
pure love whose joy my chest heaves
in a world calm and serene,
where we crave to be unseen.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DO WE THINK OF THEM?
Have you ever thought of those who live great fear
caused by illness that can fill their lives with scare?
They were healthy and they lived their normal lives;
now they live nightmares and fear the scalpel cuts.

Life was smooth and went with them from day to day.
They embraced their children whose young age could win
all their hearts, fond sight, and all that love could grant,
happy father, lovely mothers, children so well built.

How can life surprise in such a hateful way?
Has it lost its heart and replaced it with clay?
It was such a helpful hand of soft skin.
Now it's got the sharpest claws that will bring bane.

How can they enfold their kids to loving chest
while tears well from their red eyes and drip from chin?
Can you bear that sight, cruel life, and keep your heart
safe and sound, enjoying life and its delight?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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
____________

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
___________

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
____________

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
____________

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
_____________

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
____________

THE BROKEN HEART
He could not be any pride
of his father who worked hard
just to see him in a post
of which he could talk and boast.

He was humble; he was meek.
He was too shy just to speak.
That made his dad lose all hope
and off his mind he would drop.

I met him; he got my mind.
Such a heart l could not find.
He lived for love and for peace
and to shun his dad's grimace.

Man is feelings; man is heart
though he is not always smart.
Don't break hearts and feelings wound;
though not bright, his tears are sound.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THEY ARE STILL BABES.
Life is rich in what it gives
everyone what suits his mind.
Let me enjoy those great gifts
not minding what people have.

People are of different kinds
like young babes put in one room.
some would like to love and laugh
others to stretch hands and fight.

Some would feel so angry if
one of them likes his own toy.
They won't be glad till they strip
him of that toy that he loves.

Babes, young babes, we know you are
still too young and we excuse.
Try to grow out of that quirk
ere you destroy all and self.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  BIG  LIAR
I never mind the liars who always lie;
I find them quite witty as all descry
they are mere liars and their words aren't true,
so they can't cause offence to me and you.

But what l hate is that l hear a lie
coming from that whom people qualify
to be an honest man and all believe
what he says as they can't the truth coceive.

He hides great gain behind the smoothest speech
that people praise and like and find so rich
while richness comes to it through untrue fame,
and status that brings him a glorious name.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THEY  ARE  ONE  SUN .
You are the source of warmth and glorious light.
The warmth and light are joined through splendid rays.
You fill the space, and light the skies and moons.
Without the three of you, no life we view.

The warmth is love that seethes in the heart.
It yearns for something new, a work of art.
What greater arts can be than man and life?
They can satiate the heart of love and warmth.

The sun sends light to fill the universe
so that the warmth of love can see and think.
The wit of light can see to form a man
and all the beasts and plants in that great plan.

The warmth and light can't move without the rays
that can go far and reach the distant ways.
The rays join warmth and light; the three belong
to one gteat sun that lives to love not wrong.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE   SUN
I know you are in such a splendid atmosphere.
You float in your high skies; your course is high and clear.
You are the sun of your unending and wide space.
The planets and the moons follow your imposed brace.

You see breathtaking views, but they don't ever change.
They are so lovely and without stint or short range.
You see the earth, the moons and what they have to do
that always seem the same for them, for me and you.

Your life is just the same routine of daily life
that even has no days, just same repeated stuff.
Don't you feel bored or need a sense of deep, shared love,
or are you just a rock, thrown just to shine and rove?

"Whatevet l can be, l give you warmth and light.
I love to give them both; they give you great delight.
I care about what l can give and not receive.
That's what makes me the sun. My love is just to give."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

POETRY  AND  LIFE

Trifle, trifle everywhere,
I wonder how people dare
to leave fire in their house
and blame for a meal a spouse.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

THE  REAL  MAN
The wound is deep and none can see the blood.
They have soft hearts that can't deal with the wound.
They turn their faces not to hurt their eyes.
He gives the hand of cure though his heart cries.

He gives the help and leaves; the others come
to show that they have saved  from serious harm.
He looks with happy eyes at who is saved;
they show that through their work he is retrieved.

He lives great cheers as long as those around
are joyful and they speak with merry sound.
His voice is lowest and his tone is meek.
He says what cheers when he intends to speak.

He has great trust, but his face does not show.
Only the cruelest drive him to a row.
He gets engaged in fights though his heart's soft;
He never injures but defends his post.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE NEW BORN BABE
They cheer and dance. Their baby's come to life.
The parents and grandparents smile and laugh.
They've brought the drinks and food to have great time.
It's not a wont. For them a babe has come.

"What are you, babe?" the father deeply thought.
"You are a man like me with hope and fright.
You'll face this life which for me is great doubt.
You'll fear its darkness and enjoy its light.

My child, you'll live the crazy strife l live.
You'll have to toil so hard just to survive.
You'll try to find a creed to plan your way,
and lots of strain will tire your weak clay."  

His wife called out, "Come and look at his face.
It's just like yours, so full of cheerful bliss.
His fingers are like mine," she looked and smiled.
"God keep him to us both. He's our child."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHAT MORE DO WE NEED?
Let me assure myself and have no care
as Christ wants all mankind to be aware
He gives us life and won't allow grim death
to end it with the end of life on earth.

He made mankind and then He took his form.
He loved him much and shared him his own home.
Then He assured him that He could revive
those who had died and bring them back alive.

No one save Him among the humankind
could restore sight to men who were born blind
and raise Himself from death on the third day
to make saint Thomas believe and obey.

What more do l need to feel or behold?
Can't all that prove He is the mighty Lord?
What l have mentioned was seen by the twelve
and written for mankind it to preserve.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

SEPTEMBER

Falling leaves, you were small buds.
Now, you fall to kiss the ground.
What kind Spring used as green studs
With no mercy Autumn browned.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  REALITY  OF  MAN
Too weak is man, my Lord; he makes me at times cry.
He looks so well today and rebuffs my reply.
I get upset and think how haughty he can be.
Tomorrow, he is ill, and too weak him l see.

I get so sorry as l said what he opposed.
I'd love to meet again and see him well composed.
How much l'd love to hear his voice haughty again.
Then l know that he will to normal state return.

My Lord, You make poor man too frail and too fragile.
He tries to show himself so strong and so agile
to hide what he knows well that he is poor and weak
and all his shouts and shrieks are just to hide his wreck.

So poor is man when he can't prove his self respect
to those who live around and he should them protect.
He feels that his poor life is trifle in their eyes
and nothing can be done, but himself to despise.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  PLANNED  DEEDS
I'd love to feel You more, my Brother in the sky.
You told Your mother that John is her son on earth.
You made all men Your kin, and as l'm one of them,
I'd love to feel You more, a brother and a friend.

My Lord, You are alive, and all the world is Yours.
It won't cost You a thing to give me just a touch.
This step will make me start my heaven from that point
and change my life from search to bliss of great delight.

I know how much You loved Your kin on this hard land.
You were the purest Man who dressed the vice of all
to make all men quite clean and live a happy life
while You, though pure and chaste, You died for dirt of men.

But all Your deeds are planned; perhaps You'd use my pen
to show the others how they can befriend their God.
You love all men so much. You would take them as friends,
and You use my dull pen to show the ways to ends.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

VOLPONE AND I
Volpone, l am surprised how man can be
so deceitful and can live his inner glee!
Man is always scared of life and what it hides,
finding shelter through his love and through good deeds.

I look up towards the Lord and pray for health.
Volpone looks for the foe and seeks his wealth.
Is his heart made of hard flint and mine of straw?
Just a little puff of wind can my heart blow.

He and all his friends can do what they would like,
hoarding money in all ways to pile a stock.
While l seek a conscience free from vicious blame,
they lead wildest life while mine is fully tame.

Hatred is the common thing that joins them all
and leads them to gather in the prison hall.
Slumber directs my head to a pillow clear
from remorse to sleep quiet nights free from all care.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

BETWEEN THE PAST AND NOW

A poem seems to trace all arts.
It loses power and gets small.
The shorter your curt poem gets,
the better for you and us all.

A poem gets too short and shy
Not longer than just four brief lines.
No one is ready to descry
the longer ones as patience whines.

It should be clear and quickly kenned,
or puzzles that amuse the mind.
If not, none would his time spend
since readers are in no time bored.

Where are you writers of past verse
that used to charm and give deep thoughts?
Or was verse then the learned's main choice
as none else were there but their notes?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

OR LET'S COVER OUR EYES ?
What will the world replace if it strips man of life?
Whatever it gives him for him it's not enough.
If there is after life, he will not care what death
will do with his poor flesh as his soul will survive.

Is that an easy case for man to solve through mind
or faith can shore him up to make him trust , but blind?
I wonder how man can neglect this crucial view
and think of birds and trees when writing verse and prose.

Are they a good escape that covers his own eyes
and makes him live a dream to overlook that plight?
He covers his scared eyes but knows that death lurks there.
Nothing can drive death out; let us it quite forget.

Where are you from all that? Could you give me your point?
The bugbear is quite near; how can we dance and cheer?
Let us be sure what death can bring to the man kind.
Is it the start of glee, or the end of a man's world?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A TOAST FOR THE PRESENT

I can't think of what may come.
It will cause me lots of harm.
I will think of what l can
capture from the present time.

Every moment that l live
has something for me to give.
Why don't l take it and smile
and inured time l forgive ?

Past time is just what l now
live, but stripped of its bad show
since what l lived as great fear
turns out to be a heart glow.

Nothing can seem dear and nice
like a hardship we surpass.
Why don't l enjoy my time
as success may be my case?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DOCTOR  FAUSTUS
Doctor Faustus, l can feel what you passed through
to gain science and to know the latest view.
You sold your soul to the foe to give you what
can satiate your obsessed mind and eager heart.

When a man loves someone else the other should
give him something in return and not be rude.
Faustus, you gave all your life for science' sake.
Did that science relieve you from your bad ache?

Faustus, we are quite inside your horrid boat.
We give life for various aims on which we dote.
Then we wake up when the devil of your deal
comes to take the price of what has no appeal.

Faustus, we are, just like you, lost in a world
callous and has mindless thoughts for man's demand.
We get mad as Faustus did at his sad end,
pay the due but do not take what can amend.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

GREEN  WITH  ENVY

I entwined my hand with hers,
strolled among the blooming flowers.
We sat on the grass to see
if the flowers could give glee.

I looked at her eyes and left
the hues that the petals got,
lived in peace inside her eyes,
leaving those fields and their skies.

I pressed her hand for a kiss;
I smelt odour of great bliss.
I ignored the jasmine's smell,
and on her hand l would dwell.

Then the flowers got so piqued.
They began to wane and wilt.
I eavesdropped a bee that nagged,
"Beauty can't defeat withstand."

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHICH DO YOU CHOOSE ?
Cheer up and fill the world with a cheerful sound,
and let your merry voice fill all the world.
Don't be afraid of life as time will pass
whether your heart is frail or made of brass.

This life is like a dog if you fear it,
it barks, attacks and even tries to bite.
If you are firm, it howls and runs away
and hides itself where it can safely stay.

Rejoice and dance whatever comes to you
as time is fixed; you can't live overdue.
If you can't add to your fixed life a day,
Why should you spend it with a tearful eye.

Delight in life; the graves are full of men.
Some spent their lives with joy and some with strain.
The first have got great names on every mouth;
the second are recalled for mocking mirth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  VICEROY
What are you, man, but greatest work of art
in which the Lord has placed a mind to act?
He makes you master of His new-made world
and gives you choice to know the good and bad.

You chose to know, and ate from that fruit tree
to share the artist in what He can see.
As you got all that wit and wisdom gained,
God wants you to observe what's good and bad.

What's good is just to love what God has made,
to give them joy and all the needed aid.
God wants His art to enjoy peace on earth
and asks you, supreme art, to help its growth.

He asks you, viceroy, to love and be kind
and make them all in their best ways arrayed.
The other creatures don't know good and bad,
but you are wise and master of this world.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ROCHESTER'S CALL FOR JANE
Jane, my Jane, l need your love; please, come to me.
I have lost my hand and sight; come make me see.
I feel that l need you much; my heart calls you.
Don't neglect my urgent call; come, be my view.

I have lost all that l have, but l don't care.
I feel a great surge in heart to touch your hair.
Come, l want to press you hard to my faint chest
and give you my loving heart, what's for me left.

I can't keep my heart, that cradles your love, safe.
I wish to entrust this love ere l get off.
It's my treasure in my life, and all l've got.
Please, come soon. You are my hope ere l depart.

I have seen a lot, but you have got the touch
that could enslave all my thoughts and my heart catch.
Come let me enfold your heart to sing the tune
that my heart has sung for long; please, Jane, come soon.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THIS IS HOW WE SHOW OUR LOVE.

The baby's in the cradle; far is mum.
He wakes up frightened and he starts to scream.
He blubbers to his mum to carry him.
This is the way in which he shows his love.

She comes and lifts him up and hugs on chest.
He feels so calm, and she feels glad and blessed.
He coos, he babbles, and he prattles best.
This is what he does when he shows his love.

There is no need to cry; his mum is nigh.
The world for him is safe; why should he sigh?
So glad, he lifts his hand and scratches her an eye.
No wonder, this is what he does to show his love.

My Lord, we feel so frightened and we plead.
We carol and sing hymns and offer a good deed.
We may at times imply a spiteful word,
but still we are that child who shows his love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

NO  PLACE  FOR  THE  WEAK
My Lord, is this the world for which Your Son has died?
I see myself quite lost among the wasted crowd
which men beget and throw in the thronged streets
to go towards an abyss of most dreadful sights.

Men walk along the streets in such a way
that shows they are quite prompt to fight and slay.
They show quite ruthless hearts in their vile eyes
that can shed blood just for some empty praise.

There is no place for those who are humane.
They are accused of girlish styles and brain,
and should greet first to avoid frowning looks
if not, a word when answered brings attacks.

If weak, you find no place for you to go.
All places are for those who can their power show.
You have that trait, you walk with scornful pride.
If not, your place is just the grave where you can hide.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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DON'T   PREACH !
Don't preach with words you don't intend to live
and make your hearers weak by what you give.
You inject poisons that makes others frail;
then it gets easy for your sword to ****.

When preachers make the devils get docile,
it will be easier for them to get hostile.
The devil none can **** with that great ease,
but when docile, you treat him as you please.

When preachers use their words for their own gain,
I feel they get much worse than ****** satan.
At least the satan is quite known to all
that he works for the odious lore of hell.

Don't preach, but show man deeds that convey love
through gifts and tender hearts that can forgive,
through tears that well and shame a sobbing heart
while man tries hard to hide them but he can't.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE  CODDLED  CHILDREN
I am Your coddled child, my Lord.
You have a tender heart that loves the human kind.
On passion way, with cross on back, You told
the girls who cried,"Each cry for her own self
as each has such a life
so full of strife."
You cried for Your old friend, poor Lazarus
when someone told You of his loss
though You give life and can return
those who have gone.
You sympathize with man and feel for his long pain,
and You intend to cure his illness and ignore his sin.
Just on the cross, You said,
"Forgive them, my dear Dad.
They don't know what they did."
You love like that.
Why should l not depend on such a tender heart
and be a coddled child
asking the help of his most loving Dad?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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QUEEN  LUCY
The heart of gold attracts the young and old
as purest love gets these two groups involved.
The truest love has roamed from east to west;
the old and young could mostly it arrest.

No wonder that the children run to you
and leave their mums, surprised at what they do.
Even the babes turn faces to your side
as in your heart their long lost love they find.

Where can we find a deeper love than that
the old can feel in depth of their true heart?
Their love is true and mixed with mind so wise.
They feel at home with you; that's no surprise.

I haven't seen a doctor who shed tears
apart from you, who share your patients' fears
and do your best to see them well again.
That's why they call you Lucy, our queen.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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NO  FEAR,  THEY  ARE  NEAR.
I see a child and meditate for long,
"What sort of days will life bring him along?"
Who knows what he will do and where his feet
will lead, and where his destiny he'll meet.

Will he compete for fame with men so great,
or will he fear to leave his building gate?
Will he become a bold man of great name
or will he be a coward with no aim?

I wonder if wide smiles will clothe his face
or if that face will wear a firm grimace.
Will he have luck that yields more than he needs?
Or he should drudge so hard to feed his kids.

I think for long, while he holds his mum's hand
and enjoys walking between mum and dad.
He toddles caring not for what may come
as long as he walks with his dad and mum.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SHE  IS  STILL  WITH  THEM.
She was great succour, and she saved her kids
from dangers that none saves but their mum's hands.
She went and left them faced by kinds of threats,
none rescues from except the acts of saints.

She left afar and dwelt in her dark grave,
the cave of no return that scares the brave.
She was so needed in her little house
as her kids' kinship was hinged on her voice.

Ere she had left, she prayed to Jesus' mum
to keep them safe, with mum's soul around them.
The Mother of mankind said, "You and l
will make your house a part of our sky."

The soul of man will stay alive for good.
It lives eternal life where that soul would.
It seeks for those whom it has loved the most
and intercedes for them to Jesus Christ.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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JESUS  IS  MY  FRIEND.
Your friend can affect your mind and change your style.
He can make you cheer and laugh or tend to wail.
Tell me who your dear friend is, l can tell you
who exactly you can be, and it turns true.

I've read books about old myths and histories,
and those heroes who have lived in friaries,
but l cannot find a man whom l love more
than Jesus Whom l admire and adore.

He is Whom l love as man of refined traits.
He has such great might of heart that never hates.
No one can be strong like Him and bear a grudge.
He forgives all as He can't the weak men judge.

He's made me love all my life as l do now
as most gleeful sight He can my eyes endow.
I've begun to see all folk as most loved men,
which grants me a tranquil heart void of all strain.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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GLOOM  AND  CHEER
Whatever has an end can't make man glad
as when it starts, he thinks about its end.
What can this life give man if death waits there
and he  thinks of its scythe and ruthless fear?

Can most delicious food atone for that
and friends at parties help him to forget?
Can journeys and success make life less grim
as all will pass and death will wait for him?

The only thing that can bring him delight
is if man knows that he will  stay alive
somewhere, somehow and meet the people whom
have formed his past and have not tasted doom.

Then life's most buoyant smiles on lips appear
as death won't be the doom but complete cheer,
and man will live the joy that never ends,
which starts just when he knows that life extends.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MIND AND ETERNITY
I love man as he has flesh like beasts, but with mind.
Creatures live their own lives caring for food and drink.
They get wed and enjoy all the mirth that man owns,
but don't have mind to think of their fate and cruel death.

Doubts and cares wrap the time that man spends here on earth.
He prefers obscure span than to know when death comes.
If he knows, he'll count days, fearing what he will meet
at the end of that span that comes as a fast blink.

His mind is a sharp tool; one side cuts, one side cures.
It vests man in soft ruth as he fears hateful truth.
It breaks hearts and makes man all his life live in fear,
of his death and his grave while all beasts prance and cheer.

Can mind be a bliss sign that tells man life won't end?
Has God sent a clear proof to those who have this mind?
It tells them that this tool is the fruit of that tree
that shows evil and good, so from death man gets free.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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FLATTERY
What can flattery be but kind words full of vice
When you don't mean the words that appear sweet and nice?
You will be like a snake full of fatal contents,
but you dress your outlook with the smoothest outfits.

Your inside is a bog that boils with horrid blobs,
but you dress them with what would look like showy robes.
None can see in that mire that appears calm to all
fearful death dragging man to the depth of deep hell.

The harsh truth comes and goes like the gas of a drink.
It can cause fizzing sound, and for eyes a quick blink,
but you drink a cool gulp that saves you from the heat
as the truth saves you from deadly stab in the heart.

Fearful snakes, horrid mires lurk in words, but who knows
what you hide in your heart of sure death or deep ooze.
With soft voice, a low hiss, you make ears skip your threat
to bring man fearful death after most hedious fate.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE  PRISONER
Have we thought just for once that we live in a jail?
This jail is not so large though we deem that it is.
Looking down, we see earth; looking up, a blue dome.
They surround this small jail which we can't go beyond.

Sometimes sad, sometimes pleased, we can't change our mood.
It's imposed by the stars that stand there as strong guards.
We look far and aspire to escape from their force
and get free from their eyes that stare from endless space.

But we can't go outside the blue dome, firmly locked,
Where no man can escape as the walls are so thick.
We sit still, trusting none but the soul which is free
as the walls and the guards can control just the flesh.

Sight goes far, souls can fly, but the knot is man's flesh.
It remains in this jail, looking up but can't reach
What eyes see, where souls fly; only it stays on earth,
Looking up into space waiting for souls' new birth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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