POETRY AND RELIGION
I experience deepest thoughts through verse.
It connects my mind with thoughts quite pure.
What can take me to a realm like that
save its words that should pass through my soul?

Poetry, you've taught me how to live
with my soul that yearns to none but God.
You involve me in the sphere of joy
which transfers me to the holy sky.

Verse, you have a charm that none can share;
it's a trance that takes the spirit up.
You endow me bliss that one can't live
if he is not pure and free from guilt.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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I YEARN TO SIT WITH HIM.
Let me sit on my chair with calm mind to write verse.
I refuge to my heart where Christ sits on His throne.
I go there, where He sits; He makes me feel secure,
but He leaves when my heart is upset with the world.

He has changed my dull heart into His paradise.
I love that cosy room where my Lord gives His warmth
though outside it's so cold and the ice paves the ground,
while the wind blows and roars to uproot trees and roofs.

When some men drive me mad and force me to be cruel,
I think of my dear Lord, and He gives me great force.
I endure all their words as l hope to get there,
and forget all the world to sit with Him and verse.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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ASKING FOR YOUR FRIENSHIP
I'm in need for someone as a friend
who can listen to my words and sighs.
When the world gets dark to me, l go
and tell him about what l go through.

Why don't You, my Lord, accept my link?
I confide in You and Your deep thoughts.
I can't trust in omens and portents,
but in you, l have all my heart's trust.

Give me tokens, my great Lord, to know
that acceptance is endowed by you.
I will be so happy if you do,
and l'll never leave Your precious hand.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ME?
I expect something of great avail
to appear to me in my dull life.
News of hidden hope l always sought,
but it left my side  and went afar.

That man who'll bring me what's waited for
will attain from me what l can give
when l can regain my normal state
from the tears l shed, a mark of cheer.

Where are you my harbinger from here?
I have been distressed by my long wait.
I entreat the softness of your heart
to consider me ere it's too late.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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NONE CAN BE SAVED AGAIN.
Cute lamb, l bought you when they were about
to slay you with their sharpened knives while you
considered that the strong could not be rude,
and they were playing a mere game with you.

I saved you from that horrid scene and we
were glad to live in my small room for long.
I've brought you grass and l have eaten bread
till you've got old, and now you're an old ram.

Your age is now the killer and l'm here
beholding you but can't behave or act.
The place you've filled in my fond heart will keep
recalling you till we meet there once more.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WHICH IS FIRST?
Faith and sinless life, both can lead me
to the world where life is complete joy.
Faith in Him will make my life so great
and restore it from its hardest doom.

What can sinless life build me to thrive?
It can't change the world in which l live.
Just it saves me from most harmful qualms,
but it does not show the dreams l need.

My desire in this life is what
shows me that the end is jubilant.
Man is born to live a cheerful life,
only the Redeemer can provide.

This unequalled Lord has come to earth,
suffered on the cross to make us live.
When we have deep faith in such a Lord,
sins will disappear from our world.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

MACBETH AND BLOOD
Poor Macbeth, l know what you'd gone through
ere you met your death in that last fight.
You were sorry for the men you'd killed
and did not want a new man to add.

Looking at your hands, you saw the blood
you had shed in previous fights you'd had.
All the oceans' water could not clean.
You decided to be killed and slain.

So profound you were with what you thought.
You repent. Would Jesus shrive your crimes?
Where are we with our sins, my Lord?
Shall we yield and die, or pray and live?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHEAT AND WEEDS
I imagine that there are some folks
who may have the spirit that destroys
what is good because they can't produce
Luscious fruit but litter is their crops.

Vicious weeds, who may expect from you
useful wheat which people love to eat.
You can't give what's good that people like,
so you try to wreck what few can bring.

Gourmets won't deem weeds as their own food.
They will always seek succulent crops.
Man can't live on ******* envy yields
though he fears that envy's ***** tongue.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHEAT AND WEEDS
I imagine that there are some folks
who may have the spirit that destroys
what is good because they can't produce
Luscious fruit but litter is their crops.

Vicious weeds, who may expect from you
useful wheat which people love to eat.
You can't give what's good that people like,
so you try to wreck what few can bring.

Gourmets won't deem weeds as their own food.
They will always seek succulent crops.
Man can't live on ******* envy yields
though he fears that envy's ***** tongue.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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I ENVY YOU.
I begrudge your careless way of seeing life,
how you come, and where you go away quite soon.
You enjoy your food and drink and never deem
where your lives are going to and their hard atrife.

I imagine all the world and who live on
are transferred to my own shoulders which can't bear
my own weight that exhausts me with my small mind,
which is lacking needed scope to make things known.

I refuge to what, some think, is not so sure,
to discern a picture that brings me a smile,
but the people refute me, giving no clue
just increasing agonies that none can bear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MY CHOICE WAS A POET.
An angel came to me in my mid-sleep
and asked me what l would be in my life.
He gave me two great options that men liked,
a poet of great wisdom or a knight.

I thought a lot about the two of them.
A knight would be so strong and liked by all.
Most women saw him as a model man.
He lived a noble life among his tribe.

But l would opt a poet as l craved
my worth to come from inside not from men.
A poet could behold the truth that came
from his own heart or his immortal soul.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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BUT HE DOESN'T CARE !
I know l am a ***** little girl,
but still l am a child as people say.
When l see something sweet, l yearn to steal.
A thief l'm called though they still say a child.

The children of rich homes say l'm possessed
by Satan who drives me to live outdoors.
They throw their stones at me to **** the foe,
and stop the nasty smell when l pass by.

All those well-bred infants hate me so much
except a little boy who is so kind.
He shares his food with me and gives me sweets
though people in the town call him an elf.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE VAGUE VOYAGE
Old ship, you are departing far.
Your hull is not quite fit to sail
on such a sea that's getting rough,
moved by the tears the people shed.

The people urge you not to sail,
but you insist the time is due.
They ask you where the port will be,
but vague the answer you convey.

Your love is nesting in the hearts.
Where are you taking this dear hull?
You say some words that are obscure
and you depart to your dim dusk.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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GIFTS AND WORK
You exist in life to cope with
certain duties which can differ
among men who get their talents
from the Lord Who rules all creatures.

Talents are endowed to people.
They are distinguished in measures.
When you use your utmost talents,
you will relish greatest pleasure.

Great is life when you get lofty
on the throne you've built to tower
high above what people can do
but do not forget your Giver.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SHOW THE HAPPY SIDE.
Don't declare this life is full of care and dirt.
I'm so certain of this fact, and can say more.
I'd be grateful if you can teach me the skills
Which one learns to make his life full of great joy.

Life can have some hiding regions in its depths.
Only that who is so shrewd can know their ways.
I'd be glad if you can drop my old concern,
showing me where l can find the keys of joy.

Men of talents don't tell me that flesh will rot.
People know this fearful fact, but most don't know
how to find the pleasant life and where joy hides.
If you have the clue, l'll be your faithful fan.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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JESUS SPEAKS TO A YOUNG MAN.
Do not pray, young man, but save the child,
in the boat, and his mum's on the shore.
Fearful waves and winds so strong could cut
the unstable rope his mother tied.

Diving in the water is too hard;
it's the loudest prayer you can sing.
I am urging you to save the child
as l saved poor man from his first sin.

Your great saving act is so divine
as the child will be in his mum's arms.
With utmost content, l'll look at you,
and the happy two give you delight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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JESUS SPEAKS TO A YOUNG MAN.
Do not pray, young man, but save the child,
in the boat, and his mum's on the shore.
Fearful waves and winds so strong could cut
the unstable rope his mother tied.

Diving in the water is too hard;
it's the loudest prayer you can sing.
I am urging you to save the child
as l saved poor man from his first sin.

Your great saving act is so divine
as the child will be in his mum's arms.
With utmost content, l'll look at you,
and the happy two give you delight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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REAL ***
I'm surprised how people speak about
sacred acts in such a trivial way.
*** is the result of love between
Two hearts that no power can sever.

Both do their best to restrain themselves
as he fears to hurt whom his heart loves
and her love is much greater than that
rush behaviour that may bring regret.

*** is supreme when two are in love;
both are ready to become one heart.
There's no force to set the two apart,
and each loves the other more than self.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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I CAN'T FORGET HER.
A girl who lived beside my home was poor in shape and mind.
Her parents did not care for her; no one saw her but laughed
at her appearance and her words, and at her ***** clothes.
None cared about this girl and we, young boys, liked to annoy.

She used to carry sticks with her and walk along the street.
We, little boys, would take a stick, and she would start to weep.
I recall her after long time and she lacerates my heart.
She brings hot tears to my sad eyes when l live that old sight.

What had she done to be like that and spend her life in dirt?
Man's life is short and we try hard to use it to the dregs.
She came and left but did not feel the meaning of her life,
but she created in my heart a choke l can't delete.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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I CAN'T FORGET HER.
A girl who lived beside my home was poor in shape and mind.
Her parents did not care for her; no one saw her but laughed
at her appearance and her words, and at her ***** clothes.
None cared about this girl and we, young boys, liked to annoy.

She used to carry sticks with her and walk along the street.
We, little boys, would take a stick, and she would start to weep.
I recall her after long time and she lacerates my heart.
She brings hot tears to my sad eyes when l live that old sight.

What had she done to be like that and spend her life in dirt?
Man's life is short and we try hard to use it to the dregs.
She came and left but did not feel the meaning of her life,
but she created in my heart a choke l can't delete.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE STUMP OF A TREE
Short stump of that tall tree, you touch my heart.
You were a tree so high and full of leaves.
My parents saw you when they passed you by
and went to their own house when they lived near.

You saw them and you blessed them with a look
so full of love and tender feelings to
two living persons from a living plant
that knew the place where they would go to dwell.

You went with them where no one knows but you.
Do you see them in your new home up there?
If you do, please tell them l miss them much,
and your remainder flames my love anew.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SHOULD PARENTS BE SURPRISED?
They think that they will have what will be theirs.
They have a lot of children; each will be
a human being who has his own viewpoint
which will diverge from that of his close kin.

The parents feel surprised; those are our kids!
We've brought them up in one, most loving home.
How can they differ and sometimes get rough,
and we've endowed them all that we can have?

Poor parents! You don't know that every child
is one who comes to life to pass along
a way so full of thorns to reach a peak.
I wonder if he will be satisfied.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MODERN POETRY
Where is the beauty of the word
that makes the person love to read,
and when it's read it moves the heart
whose feelings kindle a deep spell.

Where is the fluency of words
that flow with rhythmic tunes and sounds?
The poem has got just a thought
that can depict an ugly sight.

Where is the clarity of sense
that we should know to feel the charm?
All disappeared and sacrificed
to make the piece a guessing game.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HE NEEDS SOMETHING ELSE.
He wants to find a meaning to his life;
he is so poor and moves from door to door.
He is a person of a high request,
but people see his hand and not his face.

They give him just a penny or some bread
and when bighearted, they give him a pound.
He has no pledge in his pouch or his mind
to make him feel the sunrise of his hope.

He looks at people with beseeching eyes,
but none would see what his eyes try to say.
They see their pound and how to make amends
while he can't see the coins but his lost aim.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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AN ATTRACTIVE WOMAN
A man loves meekness in a woman's eyes.
Their mildness has the turn of strongest pull.
They flow without permission into hearts.
So lucky is the man who gains their glow.

How much he loves the beauty of a girl
who enfolds charm that dwells in her coy face.
He looks at her with fire that ignites
his deep desire to hold and to embrace.

Her calm appeal incites his heart to feel
she can be his dear wife and he her mate.
He would like such a girl to share his life
here on the earth and even there above.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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TOO LATE
My dear father, where are you ?
You are so far from my view.
Life has taken you so far.
Only God knows where you are.

Love of old comes back to me,
stirring chagrin mixed with glee
when l recall your past days
and your love with its soft rays.

Man can meet great men on earth
who enhance his love and mirth,
but their value he can't ken
till their faces get unseen.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE NEWS I WAIT FOR
Homing pigeons, fly so fast.
What you hold l want to see.
Don't let languor delay you.
What you have will delight me.

I've been sitting on hot flames
with a heart afraid of time,
while time flies and does not care
for what my heart starts to mime.

Please, kind pigeons, bring that news.
Don't say,"None to me is sent."
Life won't show its smiling lips
if you don't arrive with it.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A VOICE FROM THE PAST
A beggar sat beside a church.
A baby slept on her thin arm.
A lullaby she sang to him;
it conveyed me such profound charm.

I stood so near but looked away.
I was all ears to her soft voice.
Hot tears welled from my blushing eyes,
but her song made my heart rejoice.

It was the song my mother'd sung
when she kept us under her wing.
I missed that voice that brought us sleep
with that soft tune she used to sing.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HATRED AND LOVE
What will their grudges offer them
except an ulcer in their gut
and make all people shun their way
as it brings them a hateful sight ?

How hateful it's to meet a man
whose purpose is to control you.
He has a trauma whose main cure
is to annoy all he can view.

The skyline is so sweet at dawn ;
the sun is mild ; its rays are warm.
Where are those people of such hearts
whose presence calms your raging storm ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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CHRISTMAS
The earth is doomed by what we call an end,
and so is man, who moves towards his tomb.
Man lives in search for knowledge and intent.
The holy Child is born to make them known.

The Lord, Who makes the world, wants us to ken
Who is the Lord, Whose words all men obey.
He comes to earth, a Child in that poor crib:
a Child in form but in His soul the Lord.

He comes to die so soon to show that death
for Him is nothing as His soul's alive
and even in His flesh He shines again
to reassure all men of their grand end.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE FRUITFUL TRUTH
Where is the truth all fruitful minds will seek
and they feel glad when its white cloud prevails
to fill the sky with what can supply land
to quench its thirst and give what fruit entails ?

Where is the truth that expels gloomy clouds
whose vapour comes from minds of selfish aims ?
It brings their lofty lands all what they need,
but houses of low lands it harms and maims.

I love the truth that can suit you and me
and brings you laughter ere the smile l get.
Then your high land with mine will have their fruit,
and we both have the great life we expect.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TOO  FAST
How can you convince a man
that this life has got a sense ?
Don't you see how the past went,
taking those whom we knew well ?

Every morn's daily routine
forms the tedious waste of time.
When it's done, the sun's fast steed
will be neighing loud at dusk.

We intend to mark the day
to produce a distinct one.
We behold the sun is up,
announcing the coming dawn.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE LION AND THE SNAKE
Lion, don't be shy if you're
bitten by a shameless snake.
All your deeds are bold and clear.
You don't heed how snakes cause ache.

You behave during daylight,
while the creatures are all there.
With esteem they praise your might
and with scared eyes they all stare.

As the snakes use their own bile,
they inject it when it's night
while the lion is asleep
unable to see and fight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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I TRUST YOU, CHRIST.
Between Your hands l place my trust and life.
I see how much You love my begging heart.
I feel myself too weak and see in you
the mum whom the child sees can the world fight.

I did what l forgot of previous acts,
which have no place in my now disturbed mind
to see that You have built on those past deeds
the precious consequence which now l find.

My Lord, my Christ, l will not fear mistakes
as what l think wrong acts Your hand will use
to build on them what l can never think
You will confer my house the greatest bliss.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE SECRET OF CONFESSION
How light man feels when he is free from sin !
He deems he has obtained strong wings to fly.
He gains these wings when he gets rid of guilt
and finds himself quite fit to fly so high.

Where is your disgust with what life may bring
and that hot skewer of your self-remorse?
They all disperse when sins have disappeared
with all the torture which has filled your course.

How nice life gets when free from fearful thoughts !
You feel you've got at large and want to run,
to talk with people, all and embrace them
as they have changed their scowls to cheerful fun.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MY FREQUENT FRIEND
Lord, l count just on myself,
but l find myself too weak.
I confess a sin to see
some new sins start to appear.

I have tried to shun the blame,
but it seems my frequent friend,
who is faithful to my heart
and wno't leave my solitude.

Sins show me how weak l am.
I dispose of one to find
ancient sins conquer my mind,
telling me l am not clean.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SENSE OF GUILT
Sense of guilt, how can you be
so unfair when you dispense
your hot embers to the hearts
as to some the share is scarce ?

Some can steal, and some can ****
with a cheerful face and heart
when their acts have passed unseen,
and no one has found their hilt

whereas some feel deep remorse
for defending their own rights,
and they cause someone to weep,
which induces sleepless nights.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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CHRIST, THE REDEEMER
The men around You are immersed in guilt.
This one has killed a neighbour, and that one
has robbed a house and caused the man to die,
and leave a wife with girls to beg their meals.

The killer and the thief begin to see
the blood they've shed appears in their insight.
They see inside their souls the blood they've shed
and live a state of sharp and deep regret.

You pity them and take the sins they have
to bear the blame for things You haven't done.
You walk the way of Passion and the cross
to have the men quite freed from their remorse.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE EXPELLED DAUGHTER
Man, my grief is greater than your raging wrath.
You've expelled your daughter who requires help.
What are fathers but refuge for those they force
to this world where none can be an easy step ?

Life's become so hard and sad for you and her.
You replace your tender love when she was near
with such anger that can rot your wrathful heart
and destroy the thrill she felt when you said "Dear".

When l see you're struggling hard to convince us,
I conceive how wrath can change great love to hate.
My sad heart palpitates hard and sheds some tears
for the time that you will spend with great regret.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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LET ME LIVE LIKE THEM.
Let me live the beauty that exists around,
birds that fly without much care for what may come,
flowers living for today not caring for
wilting or their petals drifted by a storm.

Let me live like butterflies that never cry,
moving from a flower to a rose tree.
If a flower is depleted of its sweet,
that will not reduce its freshness or its glee.

Let me live like that poor man whose clothes are torn,
and his feet are black with dirt and give bad smell.
He will dance and thank his Lord when some dry bread
fills his stomach and makes him feel strong and well.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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ARE THEY FOR THIS WORLD ?
He went there filled with hope that they'd give him a look,
thinking that he might get recognition from them.
He begged for just a smile to give him his lost post,
but that aim was too far from his hand just to claim.

Tactics were what could gain, but he was of good heart.
He would scowl to show them he was not satisfied.
Success, you always hide in the hand of deceit.
and deceit never was by his heart gratified.

Men of skills, you have built the great spires of the world,
and you wrote your great names to shine there at steep height.
Those whose hearts live for love are made not for this world,
and the spires fall on them as they are of short sight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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LORD, GRANT ME YOUR HOLY SPIRIT.
I move from day to day; my thoughts enlarge.
My days increase, approaching my old age.
I feel that hope gets smaller than before.
I need Your Holy Ghost to learn Your lore.

You say the truth will make the humans free.
I need Your freedom, Lord; it gives me glee.
You are the Lord of life, Who controls death.
You resurrected, filling us with mirth.

I want to live Your joy, but l'm quite lost.
Please grant me Your great Soul, the Holy Ghost.
He shows me all the truth which makes me live
the joyful life when Your lore l conceive.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MYSELF FIRST
I reflect why brothers always look with eyes
of abhorrence at their kin though they all have
been engendered in one home by parents shared,
and they spent the greatest time under one roof.

People having the same post always compete;
teachers, lawyers always fight to reach the peak.
Children also see that post which always winks,
and the children read that wink and strive to it.

Selfishness, you are the jewel that all men
keep aspiring to attain ere they gain love.
Let me get my self-esteem, then what is left
I will remember my brothers as a gift.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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