MY  PEERLESS  FRIEND
My distinguished Lord is such a Friend,
Who can dress my world in a sweet hue.
When l think of Him, my world will smile
even if my eyes are streaming tears.

Now and then, l may feel scared and lost
like a sailor on his straying boat
in the middle of a raging sea.
When l recall Him, l see my shore.

He bestows me trust l never have.
Fear of life becomes a purring cat.
Where can l encounter such a Friend.
If on other planets, l'll go there.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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A FOETUS' COMPLAINT
I thought the womb would be the safest place,
and l would be so pleased with my dear mum.
I did not know that fathers would conspire
with mothers to commit such a grave crime.

The doctor with the nurses dressed in white
as angels of white mercy joined the two.
Could you believe that mothers shared the plot
while l imagined mothers loved their babes.

The doctor with his group cut my soft flesh.
What had l done to suffer such a fate?
I was not stunned by doctors and their groups,
but by my parents who killed their own child.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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FATHER AND SON
Lord, l know what Your heart felt ere it was speared
when You said all had been done, and You were pleased.
It was not an easy way for You to walk
as You said,"Why did You leave Your anguished Son?"

The severe pain You had felt was great and harsh,
but Your joy was much greater than all Your pain.
You had fulfilled the hard way and You were sure
that Your Father looked at You with tears in eyes.

His distressed face could convey a lot to You.
He was pleased with what You'd done to obey Him.
He desired to tell You,"My Son l would
take Your place in all what You have gone through."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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HOW I PRAY
When l pray, l want to feel the thoughts
that l say are what the Lord would hear.
Words should come directly from my heart,
where God lives and knows all that l feel.

I request the pleas that give me rest
that transport my soul to obscure joy.
I perceive that l have gained something
which l fear to lose, so l conceal.

When l go to work, l feel so light.
I can fly like birds though my job's hard.
I conceive l have a wealth so vast
though my jacket's old and full of darns.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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FASTING
The Lord with cross on back will walk His way
of passion which will yield great wounds and death,
and we will fast to share His pain and grief,
awaiting His sunrise to give us mirth.

The dawn of life is short and will soon pass.
The sun that gives the hues to ladies cheeks
will grow to be a sun that burns the dunes
and meet its gloom at dusk with crying eyes.

Where is your light, kind dawn, and life is full
of grudges which the Lord will pass along,
but Jesus will survive and leave His grave
as we will end the fast and cheer with songs.

Cold death, you'll meet your end and fasting will
bestow us happy sense that fills the hearts
when Jesus rises and His boundless dawn
assures us that His endless life survives.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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IT IS NOT EASY TO HAVE FAITH.
Faith, they think you are a piece of cake.
They don't know that you are hard to reach.
You require lots of thoughts and depth.
Only active minds your sphere can reach.

They imagine faith is weakness' fruit.
Only sluggish persons savour it.
They don't know that only clever saints
can that lofty jubilee attain.

How can man neglect his wealth and fame
so that he can live a state so high?
It's not easy to believe in Christ
if you don't feel the price of His love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE STAGES OF LIFE
That time when you dream of being a man
is the happy stage in all your life.
You believe that life won't have an end
and will never take from what you have.

In a jiffy, you end this great time,
and you start to think of what you work.
Worry starts to show its hidden teeth.
Still you don't conceive what days enfold.

Clouds of time pass by at such fast speed;
then you ken that life has claws and tusks.
You attempt to think of that first stage,
but you see it ebbs just in daydreams.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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A SIGHT FROM HEAVEN
Where is that great sight that my eyes seek ?
It is hidden in a place quite near,
but the flesh short_sighted eyes can't see
as the soul is what can see that sight.

When you see it, your heart will soon melt
and will live with it forgetting land
as the soul has spheres no flesh can reach.
It combines with souls of endless life.

Great is that sight that you can't leave it.
You can see a world with mystic eyes.
They can join the past with what will come
in a view that can give you delight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

DO YOU KNOW ?
There is danger that the faith in Christ
will disappear soon through mean neglect.
Christians are too careless of their creeds;
secularism is at full speed.

What are we doing for such a Lord
Who endured the pain and died for us?
Are who preach to us aware of that
or are they too busy building fame ?

Why don't we get married and have kids?
Does that impede us to enjoy life ?
Does life exist just for dying flesh ?
Has the soul expired all its love ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE REALITY OF LOVE
Love can't be imposed by force or fear.
Love is such a touch that hurts but keeps
who is hurt attached to whom he loves,
unable to abhor or to leave.

Don't ask selfish ones about true love !
Ask the God Who dragged His cross and died,
or His mother Who saw Him dead there,
after lots of pain and a pierced heart.

What is man indebted to this Lord,
Who could have destroyed those who killed Him,
but He asked His Father to forgive
as He died to free man from his sins.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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EACH HAS HIS TRAITS.
Snail, don't wish for wings; a dog can't mew.
All your life, you move at that slow pace.
Creeping up rose trees, you saw a bird,
which has wings to fly; you craved for wings.

You are made to creep and leave behind
mucus that impels the flowers' hate.
Don't discern the birds with eyes of wish.
You can never fly to reach your dream.

Keep to your slow move; it is your trait.
Leaving your own dirt to trace behind.
What the birds can do you never can.
Don't let such a wish destroy your health.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WHEN A FAITHFUL PERSON DIES
A blithe surprise l will have when l meet God.
I remember how l felt when my dad came
back from his distant journey that took a year.
I entered my home front door and saw him there.

I was so glad and my heart could not contain
my wild joy that filled the house and all the street.
Now, my parents and sister and lots of friends
are with God and l miss them for years and years.

My great Lord has gathered them for me to meet.
His deep love is larger than the world and space,
and He knows what pleases me and can do it.
Who can say the pious' death is not big cheer?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE DEVIL
Who are you, Satan, but the soul that fights what's good
to change it to mere dirt, the filth that you create?
You lost the joy you had; you want all men to lose
what's in their lives of mirth and be in your sad plight.

You lead an idle life; your soul would love to laze
away the precious time as rest is your prime taste.
Great men devote the gifts of talents they've received
to do what makes the Lord so pleased with what they've gained.

An empty hand you have and soul of extreme pride.
You can't see little men have gold in their mean hands.
You show them that their gold is muck that smirches them.
They throw it and they get, like you, mere hopeless men.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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