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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

WHY DO I WRITE ?

I will keep working hard till l find
the true secret of joy in this world.
I won't deal with why roses are great.
This is what everyman clearly sights.

I would like to go through my deep heart
to search deep, and know what it enjoys,
to find scopes which can grant its delight,
which makes life clarified by that light.

I would dive in the soul and its peace
to try hard to espy its great glee,
where it finds the true life that it seeks
and achieves its demands for good life.

That endows me morale that l need
to perform what my soul loves to live.
Nothing can bring man peace if his soul
is not sure of the deeds it performs.

What can words add to roses if man
knows so well that all roses are great.
What man needs is to find what life means
and to meet the right gate through his way.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

THE CONCEALED MIRTH

We hear that God loves man so much.
That's why He gives him life on earth.
But pain and grief that poor man clutch.
Where is that love? Where is the mirth?

If life is a struggle from the start
and worry makes it hard to live,
the mirth in it will fall apart,
and death destroys what mirth can give.

That's not the case if we think deep
and deem the life of a tranquil soul.
Through his soul, man great pleasure can reap
and get the joy he will extol.

A man can live the greatest joy
when he explores the depth of faith,
the pure joy that none can alloy
and that starts man's bliss from this earth.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE RIFLE AND THE FLUTE

I took my rifle and l went
to nearby forest birds to hunt.
When l got there, l saw a bird
whose chick fell down through sad event.

The hen was flying with a cane;
it hovered where its chick was thrown.
It urged the chick to perch on it,
but it was too young to have known.

I held the chick and placed in nest,
and its mum set its mind at rest.
It twittered and gave me the cane
and flew to nest with heart so blessed.

I threw my rifle on the ground,
returned with that gift in my hand,
with a happy heart that blessed my act,
and a cane on lips with greatest sound.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

EACH IN TURN

All my heart is with those who are sad,
Swallowing their tears with their own bread.
Like red hot nails pierce me their sad sighs
Though they're not nigh my sad, downcast eyes.

I extend my weak hand for their needs,
but my hand is short, and weak my deeds.
I can't compensate what fate has marred
as l am by weakness fully barred.

We are throngs of men, each one in turn
sheds his tears for what we can't return.
Time goes fast and we can't do a thing,
save those tears when that sad toll will ring.

Why don't we extend the hand of help,
dry the tears of those who need that step?
Our eyes will weep and need that hand,
which all creatures wait for to expand.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHERE IS THAT VOICE ?

He sits neglected in the hall,
a little soldier, weak and small.
He was the captain of the troop,
but now despised by all the group.

Are hearts of people changed to flint ?
They care for empty pride to sate.
A crime with pleasure they commit
as long as they can self acquit.

Is there no voice inside to shout
and wake them during their dark night?
Is that voice silenced when they eat
to mix food with tears in their plate ?

It's said that man is soft and kind.
Where is that man ? Is he on land ?
The man l see likes just to show
an outer love, but hate below.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE SUPERMAN

The superman is that who can
Stand with the feeble in their pain.
He can't bear meeting broken hearts
too shattered to stand by themselves.

He can't see eyes with tears inside,
mainly those eyes that tears have hurt,
or eyes that in vain try to hide
their tears but redness shows their pain.

He stands with those that life has harmed
while they can't cope to hide disgrace.
They do their best, but their short arms  
Can't hide what harshness has misplaced.

The superman will never care
where his support will ever lead.
He sees his heart is quite involved
in drying tears and planting cheers.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

STEERED BY HIS OWN WILL

They are a group of men on board a boat.
All are adrift except the one who steers.
They look at him and go the way he goes,
waiting his hands to find their chosen course.

He chooses his own way as it can suit his heart.
He might be wrong, but that's what his heart says:
that's what the throbs of his true heart would drum,
not what his whims impose on him to cull.

His fellow men on board the sailing boat
repose and wait for what their helmsman's hands will do.
They look with such pleased eyes at distant looming isles,
and can sunbathe on board with cheerful smiles.

He stands with active mind so crammed with care.
He barely sleeps or rests , and dreams awake,
exhausted, yes, but glad the boat will sail
where his hands steer and wish to move the wheel.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE HEEDLESS BABIES

Little babe, you want to eat
unaware of your own state.
Do you know what doctors say
or you leave all to your fate?

You eat and don't care about
what may occur to your health.
All are worried; their eyes well
with sad tears for what may fall.

We are not in better case,
Lying in this world of risks
Unconscious of lurking threats
That await a suiting chance.

Who is worried about us?
We don't see, but He is near.
His eyes follow, full of tears
while we laugh outloud with cheers.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE CHEATING CAKE

At the side of the lake, she sits eating her cake.
That cake can all her thoughts easily take.
I've just looked with soft eyes
how she can forget what her time lies
In her way to emerge in what time can her fold
either when she is young or gets old.

She forgets flying time and its speed,
caring not how the steep of her way can exceed,
taking her to the end we all fear,
but that cake blinds her eyes, and makes fear disappear.

Fearful time, why are you hard and cruel?
You seem proud that we all fear your rule.
You throw us such a cake, and we seem to forget
Where we go and what end we will get.

Don't be callous and keep for yourself little sense;
go at speed not so fast, and make fear not so dense.
We are all like dumb sheep in your field.
Why don't you your fast speed a bit yield?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

TOO SOON TO FORGET

Years of life, how fast you pass.
Man won't forget parents when they're old perhaps
as he still remembers yesterday
When young and his parents were his light and ray.

Time goes fast to help man think when young
he was weak in all, his strength and tongue.
Their unequalled hand was so great then;
time flies fast to help man it to ken.

Now, they're old and need him as he did
Yesterday, when tears drenched his eyelid.
They are still so great; his fresh mind can recall,
and returns their work when he was small.

Time went fast and did not leave a space
which endows to forget a wee chance.
His succour occurs with such a heart
as he still recall that glorious past.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

SPEEDING TO THE FULL STOP

She went to school so nicely dressed, schoolbag in hand.
Her mother blessed her little head, adjusting her school band.
She is the hope of mother and her home.
They see in her the pledge that life will bloom.

Days turn and in a wink she is a mum.
She sends her child to school and waits for her to come.
Her child in turn becomes her life and hope,
and days go on while we are drunk with dope.

What is the reason for all that great fuss?
Life goes on while we are in lightspeed bus.
We are so happy and we live with hope
while days go on just having one full stop.

The sun is born with glorious shine,
and each man says, " Today is mine."
All of a sudden it folds up in past,
and life goes by; no days or hope will last.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

THE SOUL AND FLESH
The truth exists between the earth and what is seen
up high in endless skies where blue space is serene.
The soil of mud appeals to what man's stained hand feels
While his eyes roams up high to see a white cloud reels.

The mud can build a house which can be fit and nice
for us to live and rest and spend good time in peace.
It's also great to lie under the summer sky
and look at the bright moon and shooting stars espy.

The mud supports the trees that feed mankind and bees
and grows the wheat and grass that man and beasts can please.
The sky can feed the heart, and brings the soul delight
as stomachs are not all; morale can trust ignite.

We refuge to you both to get the needed growth
that God has built in us to live and find the truth
which is the two are one and both have made the Son
Whose pain has made the mud award the soul its crown.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

NOT GREY BUT FULLY WHITE

They could achieve their goal to make him feel quite sole.
No one would be with him as he cannot cajole.
He has an only aim which is his love aflame
can lift up all those dear, while they all wish him shame.
They've seen him as a foe who'll stop their lights to glow.
He's come to take their gem. They will not it bestow.

He's thrown outside his house, a lonely star in space.
It sends its rays around, but none will them embrace.
Rejection's got its fate while their stars are elate;
they gladly in one group their triumph celebrate.

Their stars are bright and glad, with merry robes they're clad.
This is how he wants them though he's a thrown out lad.
He has one Friend whose hand gave joy to all His land.
All left Him quite alone though His love is so grand.
That Friend's mind makes him sure that those whose hearts are pure
won't mix with greys as hues as white's what they live for.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A  PAUPER

I have no field to plant, to irrigate and chant
and wait for crops to come to dance and beat my drum.
I have no trees of fruit to sell and buy a suit;
I am a street ambler, or just a mere pauper.

No movies are for me; these are what l can't see.
I know the place from out, but l can't poke my snout.
A film for me is like a sharp and hateful spike
that causes me much harm as l am just a ***.

No social life is mine as all regard me down.
They address me with scorn as all my clothes are torn.
Still l'm  a human being and ask why l'm so mean
that coins l cannot reach as they're just for the rich.

I have no girl to see; a kiss from her to plea,
to play with her blond hair and smell her perfumed air.
I have no right to that; girls think l have no heart.
I dream of wild amour though l'm too mean and poor.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHO  CAN  LIVE  THERE  ?

Land of devils, you have got the taste of hell.
No one who has some good taste on you can dwell.
Forms of life with those besmirched foes are hostile.
They can dismiss with great ease the cheer of smile.

Devils are so fond of raising feuds and fights.
If they don't, they can't live days or sleep their nights.
Who would like to spend his time with such a crowd
Whose main aim is just to prove they're lout and loud?

They are known for vile misdeeds and gross deceit.
No men in all sorts of malice them compete.
They can cheat and **** weak people with great ease.
No remorse can cause them pain if laws can't cease.

Life is for whose muscles rein neighbours and kin.
He can lead them where he likes to their ruins.
They become his slaves and he annoys them all
till someone can crush his strength and him control.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

LET'S JOIN HANDS.

People of a hateful grudge
are beheld through one we call a drudge
who has gained no outcome of avail.
That makes him so full of loudest wail.

They hate the people who can have
success in life and be so calm and suave.
They know how they can get respect from all
as they have set and reached a precious goal.

Most of us are not from either class.
Let's join hands; we may pass
gates of grudge and go straight to success.
By joined hands, we may reach God's great bliss.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MY PHILOSOPHER AND GOD

There came a Man among the men.
He had no house; He had no den.
He had no palace and no wealth,
but he was well known for His strength.

He had great power of the soul
that could the blind and dead men heal.
He made new eyes, and gave new breath,
the Maker Who could raise from death.
But what can stun me to the heart
is His mind and His deep insight.

He told me what my nerves can cool,
my heart  and mind can make tranquil,
my conscience keep without remorse
that kills my joy or even worse.

His teachings fill my heart with joy,
and make me earthly life enjoy.
The greatest is the least of you;
Who said so with Him l will go.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

HOLY  STRENGTH

Strongest people are so glad;
they don't care when things are bad.
They look with a smiling face
what is bad they can erase.

Beware of those who are weak
who try hardest not to speak.
If they start they cannot stop.
Their shout reaches highest top.

They live under greatest strain
shackled by an iron chain.
Woe to you if that chain broke,
it would lead to such fierce stroke.

When strong, you get high by strength.
You fear none, not even death.
After success, you don't care
if your death is nigh and there.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHERE  IS  HEAVEN ?

Grudge, how awful you become
when you make a heart your home.
You the throne of God destroy,
source of love and greatest joy.

God makes man's heart His own throne,
where his love is fully grown,
building heaven from the flesh,
which becomes love's holy creche.

Heaven dwells inside my heart,
and endows me greatest height.
Love is kept in secure place
where the Child can lie in peace.

Highest skies, you are just void.
Heaven can't be in that world.
Heaven's where whom l adore
nestles in the depth of core.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  ONLY  REMEDY

Old age with broken leg, she lies in bed.
She cannot move; her pain is mixed with dread.
She is too weak to speak. She just complains,
but no one can her nagging quite explains.

Her bed has got a prison she can't leave;
it stirs her mind to roam, her heart to grieve.
No source as vent for hope from which to get
delight that makes her anxious thoughts forget.

So nice was life when those she loved were near,
whose presence brought her joy as they were dear.
They went and left her lonely, now in bed.
How hard is life that leads her to this end?

In tears, she hears a song coming from far.
She used to hear ere time could her life mar.
She calls back that old love that fills her heart
and sets her calm as love sets all aright.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ENTREATY

I'm a child whose toy has a defect.
All the time, l feel sad and abject.
My dear Dad, can't You bring back my smile,
And mend what makes my blood tend to rile?

Dad, You are my sole hope Who can give
What l wait from Your hand to receive.
I'm too frail; l can't mend what is wrong.
I depend on Your hand which is strong.

I just sit in my cradle and weep.
No one cares for my tears that cut deep.
They tell me to cheer up and be glad.
How can l? My dear toy looks so sad.

My dear Dad, please feel what l go through.
All my hope is quite centered on You.
I can't smile and my toy is like that.
Please my Dad, bring joy back to my heart.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MANAGE  WITHOUT!

He is lonely with none in his hand,
For his daily needs and food demand,
Yet he deems himself a man of thought
Though no coins to publish what he wrote.

Still he sticks to honour and its cost.
He would like to guide though he is lost.
What he wants from life is just some love,
For the trust in self and just a shove.

Where is love if coins do not support?
Life itself will **** it and abort.
Love costs quiet a lot to live and grow;
It can't live on thoughts to get aglow.

Man of thought, you've lived deprived of fun,
Spent your time in gloom, no light of sun.
Can't you manage short of love to live
If you want to keep your thoughts alive?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

CONSCIENCE  CALL

Conscience call, you are the voice of God,
That in hearts of men, you shout so loud
And tell us when little men we hurt
As we destroy dreams that hearts assert.

She walked long ways searching for jasmine
And was glad she could a bunch obtain
When he crossed her way and just for fun
He threw her bunch in the stream and ran.

Nothing she could do but looking up
At the sky, where all the weak get hope,
And went with a tear inside her eye.
She did not retort, but just asked why.

Life on earth has its own secret ways
As God always in the conscience stays.
He speaks with us and makes us repent,
And the wrong that we have done lament.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

BORING  PEOPLE

What can one do in a boring crowd?
Those around him of true sense are void,
And their accent is of haughty mind.
He feels lost and comfort does not find.

He exploits the power inside him
To impose a smile wide but dim.
It makes matters worse to those who see,
And he seeks a chance just to get free.

Where have birds of feather flocked and flown?
Those who are around are quite unknown,
Not in person but the way they think
That can drive him to sheer madness brink.

He fills all his face with empty smiles,
Longing to be far a thousand miles
As he hates to see the others hurt
While his nerves he can no more exert.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

YOUR FACE OR THE MOON?

I went uphill with her to see the moon,
And live an atmosphere so kind and boon.
Got there, l felt my mind uprose so high
And lived in Eden that could charm my eye.

I looked up; l could see the moon was bright.
It filled the world with lovely orange light.
I thought the moon could paint this comely scene;
Its rays could light the site and its dark screen.

I loved the moon for what it could create
As both my heart and soul could high elate.
A glance at your most charming, quiet eyes
Made me the true creator recognize.

I felt they were much dearer than the moon.
They were the spell that could our hearts attune.
I looked at what the sky could brightly light
And found your face would be a better sight.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MAN AND DIRT

Man has greatest trend for a clean heart.
Dirt can make man bear some pain too smart.
But a lure to gain the world makes him
Tend to use wrong ways of ***** whim.

Man can't bear the dirt on his seen flesh.
Fast he moves to clean it and get fresh.
No one bears the sight of dirt and filth.
They deprive him of his mood of mirth.

Dirt of soul can cause more painful sense.
You can't clean it by a quick defence.
You need Lord of souls to wash you clean.
Only He can bring you back serene.

Hands are yours and can clean when you want;
Lord of souls you can't control his font.
His unseen work can't be always done.
We are weak and can't that weakness shun.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ABORTION

Man is always with who has much strength
Who defends himself and has much wealth.
All look down on who is poor and frail,
And for his clear rights he can't fight well.

Embryo, who will defend your right
If your mother does not for you fight?
You have no one except tender folk
Who speak meekly when they tend to talk.

You are helpless if your mother's hard
She herself will your young life discard.
You have no help save your Lord above
Who beholds you with an eye of love.

Can you dream that your mum feels so glad
If laws of all countries with her stand.
Mothers **** and all should share the crime
As their victims' shouts to their hearts climb.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DIVORCE

Those who God joins none severs.
This is what the Lord refers
To in His most holy tome
When man and his wife share home.

Birds of heaven build one nest
Where they breed and where they rest.
They can't live outside this place.
It's the source of their lives' peace.

Even when those birds migrate,
***** and hens' love won't abate.
On each other they rely
When they breed and when they fly.

Who can mate and then depart
If he has a human heart?
When two join their hearts in one
Each gets his mate's moon and sun.

This is what my heart tells me,
And what Jesus likes to see.
He makes man and knows his heart;
Once he's married, he can't part.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH  
____________

WHAT IS THE REASON?

Men of various colours come and go.
Wherefrom, whereto,who can ever know?
Tourists passing through a foreign land
With a sojourn no one can expand.

Why do parents bring offsprings to earth?
Is it love of kids to give them birth?
It's a question that needs lots of thoughts
None can answer ere his body rots.

For my little mind, the Logos plays
Roles that fill this world with sense and rays.
We aren't cows that crawl to their sharp knives,
Forced by sticks  to live and end their lives.

God has endless talents which  He used,
Through the Logus, Whose great work transfused
Empty space to fill the endless sky,
And created life, and birds that fly.

Then He formed  His man with talents which
Could make him a master wise and rich.
Logos made a logos to give life:
Is that not a reason quite enough?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE

Lots of people use this tongue
And make it nicer and strong.
By the use of foreign thoughts
English gains what it exalts.

Poems are delight to hearts.
Minds get from them gist and lights.
Help these songs to spread around.
New thoughts in your tongue abound.

I love English as it takes
Foreign words and them it makes
Useful ways to express thought;
That's what makes it so much sought.

English was poor but now rich.
When compared, it has high pitch.
Richness comes from foreign lands.
So it towers where it stands.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  POET

If we do like it or we don't,
A man is stature not his thought.
They respect that man for his coin
And treat a poet as a clown.

A poet walks thinking himself
A man whose knowledge fills a shelf
With books, none but him is so fond,
But others don't lift from the ground.

Woe to the kind man whom he sites
To hear the poems he recites.
He spends most boring times with yawns;
His reader dreams of laurel crowns.

His wealth for him is not what counts;
His wife and kids live on dump mounts.
He saunters like a proud peacock
While people see him like a joke.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

LOVE  BIRDS

Birds of love, how don't you feel a little shy?
Beak on beak in deepest kiss close to my eye.
We the humans, feel ashamed of public kiss.
It's a shame that we look at with some malice.

Why don't you wait till the room is just for you?
Then you can enjoy your kiss with none to view.
No one will say one bad word of sin or shame
As we, human beings, can do and keep good name.

My dear man, l am a bird and known as pure.
I don't do what anyone can least injure.
What l do with my mate bird is good for all
My mate is my only love since we were small.

I don't mate with other birds or flirt with them
Or look at them with bad eyes or a worse whim.
What we do is known to all and can't bring blame,
So we do all our deeds and keep good fame.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

PEOPLE AND ***

God gives organs that attract the eye.
They help for your boon; them dignify.
Those great beauty sites God gives a cause:
Life on earth to keep, and love impose.

How can you use them for ****** aims
By pretence of true love that one claims?
True love is between two souls God joins
Making them one being, not sinning *****.

Two perform an act that lasts a bit.
Each goes his own way, and they are split.
Pledge on one joined life stays just for short.
Where can love exist in this import?

Do they play a constant tune as one,
Or perhaps new mates can bring more fun?
*** is bliss of God for giving life
Not brief joy to please, with harm too rife.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

REGRET

Ugly gets this life when dipped in sin.
Fear nests in the heart and spreads within.
Pain and worries are shown on the face;
All the soap of earth cannot displace.

Anxious gets the heart and much depressed.
Nervous get the words that are expressed.
Calmness disappears from disturbed world.
Those around can't hear from us a word.

Profit, where are you that we could gain?
Did it merit all this killing pain?
Moments of some pleasure we have got
Causes dirt and pain that inside rot.

No oblivion can release our nerves.
False pleasure gets what it deserves.
None can clean our hearts save long regret.
Word of honour, is sin worth this fret?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DON'T WORRY MAN; JUST WANT.

You give man what You want him to have,
But l really want Your Son to love.
I can't have what is a gift from You.
When You grant it, then l can that do.

I want Your grace, then my talents grow.
Without gifts, l have the shortest view.
My Lord, l still stretch my arms and pray;
You are living God; You will array.

I depend on You and no one else.
My heart and my bare soul you will dress.
Without You, l am too weak my Lord
As true gifts l can't find in this world.

I love men but their gifts are too small.
They can't give what can a rope install
Between earth and the sky that You dwell.
Just a word from You makes me excel.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

TRUE LOVE

Love, you are my soul's most freshing breeze.
You can help my soul to flow with ease.
You make me forget myself and think
Of her tender eyes and charming blink.

Love, you make me sail on seas so sweet,
Not minding strong sharks or hostile fleet.
Just to get a glimpse from her dear eyes,
That make me live far, in depth of skies.

Life and soul get cheap just to please her
Not caring what in return they stir,
Yielding all that l have, in her hand
Nothing for all that, l will demand.

I give all my life but never ask
In return, a gift or any task.
All my aim is seeing her quite pleased
Living all her life happy and eased.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________