LET'S  ENDEAVOUR.
When our pen intends to write, let's seek the truth.
It's a call for you and all who read this verse.
Life is short and we have problems quite unsolved.
Why do we deplete the time on trivial themes?

If your heart is burning down, you don't sip tea.
How can poets rhyme their whims while fear is near?
Let's discuss the fire that burns deep in hearts
and conceive the gist of fear ere rhyming trash.

What is man on earth but just a little being
facing problems from the start till his near end?
Great is he whose warning can save other ants
ere the foot of giant vice can end their roles.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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CAN YOU RETORT?
How can you think of your food,
of your work and what you do
when you know there is an end
that will place you in a tomb?

No matter how long you live.
Long or short, there is an end.
This condition stays for long,
the forever and a day.

People live under this cloud,
which endows their sky black hue.
How can they forget their tombs,
and enjoy a bud that blooms?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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A STUPID, OR A LUCKLESS MAN?
He has worked hard all his life to reach a goal,
and endured contempt from people and his friends.
He's pretended not to hear their spurning words,
hoping that the crown of gold on him will fall.

Time has passed and still his goal is far away.
He has spent a lot of time on that old dream.
His concern is not for coins which he now lacks,
but for drafts he has at home; he can't display.

Men of thought do not expect from those around
save a question, "What have you as bank accounts?"
When the rich open their mouths, the poor should hark;
men with brain should know that gold can speak aloud.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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I FEEL MYSELF A STRANGER.
Some people think that *** is just like food.
They eat a sandwich here and there a cake.
All cats and dogs in nature get surprised
as *** for them brings kittens and their pups.

If one gets pregnant, they feel shocked and sad.
*** is for pleasure not for having kids.
They feel deep shame on parents and the girl
if their dirt gives its smell and gets quite clear.

A person with clean underpants is dumb.
He is not bright enough to sin and hide.
I feel myself a stranger in this world,
where *** is shame if it leads to a child.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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GRANT ME STRENGTH.
The lamb in me has ruled my heart and mind
and quelled the roar that my strong lion'd breathed.
I feel so frail; the softest drift of wind
can drop me down like dry leaves to the ground.

I feel my power comes from That Who knew
His end would be on that harsh cross of wood,
yet He would walk the thorny way to death
to save those whom He loved, whose strength has ebbed.

I'm weak, yet l still love to live and write,
but life demands great strength to stand and fight.
I ask your blood, shed on the cross to grant
me strength to fight who want to shed my blood.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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CONSCIENCE, THE LORD'S VOICE
All his friends have turned their eyes
from his face that lacks the charm.
No-one gives him hopeful warmth
for good friendship of a sort.

He has used his patience long,
but he gets a lonely man.
Where can he find someone who
shares his serious points of view?

A profound voice inside him
has begun to call his name,
"I accept your friendship, man.
Speak with Me. l am your Lord.

"I reply through My old print,
whch l have placed in your heart.
Speak with Me and l reply
through your conscience, My dear friend."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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MEANING AND RHYTHM
Poetry, you are the truth,
gliding in the sky above.
You descend in rhythmic lines,
chanted by the lips of muse.

With the lyre in her hand,
and the thougts inside her mind,
she sings with her splendid beats
the essence of the whole life.

All her feelings have deep sense,
and she sings them in good rhythm.
She dislikes the trivial thoughts,
written in unrhythmic style.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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I WONDER HOW THEY CAN.
A girl that does not know the trip she has in life
for me is like a bud forced to a world of frost.
I look at her and think of what her road will hide,
which makes my heart go soft and rue the heartless world.

I yearn to catch her hand and hide her from soft rain.
It's head can't keep straight up under the weight of dew.
I seek a way to hide her where it's safe and warm.
I cry when l see her with thornless stem she stands.

How can cruel egoists pluck her for just a smell
and throw her in the mud to face that fate alone?
Am l a stupid man or are they made like beasts
whose hunger has the word to **** the frailest lamb?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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ONE, TO NO END
The jewel that she has is dear.
It is the brand of her pure heart.
God's placed that gift for her clean mate
to be the prize for his white acts.

She keeps that wealth intact and safe
for that man who deserves that gem.
The clean should catch hands with the pure
to plant their great love and it rear.

His help to keep her pure is more
than that her parents strain to give
as he will blend his soul with hers
and both will be one to no end.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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MY CONSTANT LIGHT IS FREE FROM GRUDGE.

I see a mild and constant light directing me
towards the truth, the shining faith l love to see.
I have been working all my life to pave its way
as l see that it is the path to that great day.

A man appears to say my light leaves us at night
when it is needed most to help the obscured sight.
We need a light that we turn on just when we need
to help the wise when night is quiet to think and read.

Another sees  my shining light will fade his own.
He wants himself to be the sun that weaves the dawn.
He tries to destroy all the lights and darken life.
His light should shine or let pitch darkness be so rife.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WHAT CAN HE DO?
He was obliged to share as all his brothers were.
There were some people killed and some lost land and homes.
All that took place when he was still a mere, young child,
and heard a story that his parents don't admit.

Now, he's supposed to swear to prove a new lawsuit.
He knows it is not true, but he can't contradict.
His father, uncles, aunts will be gravely condemned.
He should swear on what's wrong or lose those who are dear.

His conscience is so stunned, and sharp teeth start to bite
his tired mind that weeps and asks refuge through death
ere that most horrid day will request him to swear
and bring him fearful pain or loss of those so dear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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ARRANGED OR COINCIDENTAL?
How strange is life when you see how people get wed.
He is a boy when his wife's mum gives birth to her.
Perhaps by chance, he feels so pleased, not knowing why
as his own future wife has come to this wide world.

They are sometimes from different sites and varied states,
and fed with thoughts that make them yield divergent fruit.
One can be fed with golden spoon and one with hand,
and one has gone to famous schools, while one is dumb.

They move and travel round the world seeking for gain,
and they get near and then depart, but stay apart.
They drive, they fly and then they sail to meet at last
and have the blessings of their Lord to get one heart.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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THE TRUTH AND MAN'S VALUE
He stands so high and not afraid of his viewpoint.
The truth for him appears so dear, a precious stone.
He writes not fearing that his words will make him small
if he describes the others' verse as charming lines.

He looks so proud not fearing thoughts that bloom with facts.
The truth can give his face a tint of splendid shade.
He'll get a mind quite clear of all red-hot remorse,
not fearing that his praise will make him as a dwarf.

Full truth, you dress him in the cuirass of old knights
who fought to get bright justice placed on highest spires.
That may cost him the highest price or may strip him
of valued fame, but still the truth is worth his while.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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THE PALSIED CHILD
A child fell down beside and looked upward at me.
He had a covered eye that had some surgery.
He looked so scared as if to ask, "Have l done wrong?"
He had a palsied face and defects from his birth.

He was about three years, quite thin and with no charm,
but fear was so apparent on his childish face.
I smiled, looked down and said some reassuring words.
He went on with his frown as if he knew his life.

His mother came, and l went on along my way.
For him, l felt so sad and had a sharp heartbreak.
The strongest people feel not sure how to face life.
What will he do? I asked myself with tearful eyes.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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ONLY FOR A FEW
Few quaff the rhythm of a spring
serene and pure and reflects rays
which are sent by the sun to clear
the mind once water trills its way.

Just when smooth rhythm plays its tune,
it lifts the mood to mountain air
that spurs the heart to ride a waft
and reach a space no sound can trace.

Melodious rhythm rules the heart
that gets enchanted by its charm.
A beat from it intoxicates
the gloomy soul to soar so high.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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HOW CAN YOU EXPLAIN ?
People peruse  on the internet
with wide open eyes and eager mind.
What can join all people on that screen,
but a secret that deserves their strain ?

Man has always been in such a case.
From the start of time he's risked his life,
looking for a treasure of great worth,
and has searched for it the deep and skies.

I join hands with them seeking the truth.
Can man's life end here, a heap of dust ?
Miracles have interfered to ask,
"How can you explain these marvels, man ?"
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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HOW CAN I HATE ?
You've filled my heart with love; how can l hate ?
You've blessed who pierced Your heart and brought Your fate.
What should l do with that who said a word
that made me feel so small among the crowd ?

The love You give my heart is so refined;
the wine You gave the bride was of rare kind.
Your love that lives in me has made me drunk.
Intoxicated, l look up and thank.

Who can make such great wine, or brew such love
that lift a man so high to dwell above
except Who'd lived above and came to show
how men can live great joy when Him they know ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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THE REAL JOY
Let love dwell in your heart, you live great joy;
a tender touch springs up and starts to grow
to make you feel the world in which you live
is such a glorious place that helps to give.

You feed a hungry man and feel how great
the satisfaction that has filled your gut.
You place a deprived baby in your bed.
You know how sweet when mother lulls her kid.

You visit an old woman who has lost
her husband and lives lonely in her hut.
You feel how joyful for you to regain
that lovely smile you bring to her again.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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I NEED YOUR HELP !
I ask if you do know, poets of great renown,
what gist this life can have, and what for people live.
We move from day to day; the change is just the date.
We look at time and say we are as always late.

We feel that life must have a meaning but we are
too lazy and too dumb to find its sense and depth.
I fear that time will pass while l'm still quite distraught.
Please, days, slow down till l can find my hidden wealth.

There must be something tucked somewhere but l need help.
Who can give me a hand to set my mind at rest?
Then l don't care if days are slower or the same
as l have found what l have reckoned my tucked aim.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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A JUDGING LOOK
All fathers want their children great and wise,
and my dear father would just like the same.
He was a self-made man, and very strong.
I wonder what he thinks from up of me.

I love my father and death makes me feel
I miss him quite a lot for such long time.
I want him to be happy with his son
as he expected me to work and gain.

I look at heaven and l fear to see
his loving eyes looking with blame at me.
"I did a lot," they say." What do you do?"
Is it enough to answer, "l write verse"?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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LOVE AND SELF RESPECT
When you love, you wash feet and get servile.
You don't care if you lose your self respect.
Which is much dearer to your heart and soul,
your self esteem or keeping him quite safe?

Let me one thousand times wash your dear feet
and not see you for seconds in distress.
My heart and soul are tied to those gold rays
that your eyes send to enslave my poor soul.

I am a bunch of love which finds its dew
in your sweet smile that frees my mind from care.
If you accept my hands to wash your feet,
I feel you dwell so safely in my view.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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THE MYSTERIOUS JOURNEY
My heart is touched by what man's life leads to.
I see him working with a mouth quite closed.
He rears a laugh on his lips, stirred by pence
that won't redeem him when his gloom gets near.

I look and think, then l feel hot tears drop,
and wet my cheeks for what poor man goes through.
He is attached to people and loves them;
they get the pulse that moves his loving core.

His train keeps rattling while his eyes are on
his peers that drop as leaves of autumn do.
He sees himself so lonely while his friends
have dropped to land so queer and disappeared.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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THE GREATEST MIRACLE OF ALL
God showed the truth that He wants man to know,
the truth that makes man's life so full of glee.
God came to show us that He had Christ's form
to show Himself to man in His own Son.

To think of love, Christ is the perfect love,
of tender heart, no one can match His case,
of succour, who can help more than His hand?
God's placed all His perfection in the Lord.

Jesus has shown us how so great man is
that He has taken his own mind and form,
and came to us to show how man can reach
the great perfection through great deeds like Christ's.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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WHY DO I LOVE JESUS?
You may ask me why l have faith in Jesus Christ.
The answer is because He makes me live delight.
I've read a lot about all types of human beings,
but Jesus is unique. He loved who caused Him pain.

He saw in that who pierced His heart with pointed spear
a man who did not know what his right hand had done.
He forgave him and asked His Father to forgive.
When man just tastes this love, how can he throw it out?

His heart felt man with depth and cried his fear and pain
and sympathized with him in his mirth and and his gloom.
He makes me see all men through His most profound way,
which makes my life so full of mirth and joyful depth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
____________

WHO IS POETRY FOR?
Poetry is just for that
who writes it to know himself.
He gets indulged in his life
and perceives its gold from wastes.

It's essential to conceive
what is right from what is wrong.
He indites it in a way
that reveals his inner thoughts.

If his poems have appeal
Publication can give help.
People enjoy what he writes
and its succour gives them light.

Life's great secrets are so deep,
and its beauty charms the mind,
but one should know how to live
so that he can see those sights.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
___________

IS POETRY OLD FASHIONED?
Each time has its men and art.
Shakespeare died long time ago.
Verse and plays could charm past minds.
Now, no one reads what you say.

When you write a poem, try
to convince someone to hark.
All around you people shun
What you think is nicely done.

All alone they rush to read
common things on the Facebook.
When they see you, they retreat,
fearing boredom and your hook.

Don't exhaust your time on what
People are disgusted with.
Nthing useless recompense
for your time and self-esteem.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MAN ON EARTH
What is man but a chick that moves
so scared among the fiercest cats
whose hunger makes them seek a chance
to pierce their teeth in his thin throat.

He has no power save his heart
that looks for help from distant skies
which give him all means to escape
and change his squeaks to vultures' cries.

From that far sky he sees his hope
that comes from those most lovely stars
that twinkle like the saintly eyes
which send him power and supplies.

The Lord appears among the clouds
to tell him that He is so near
and ask him not to fear his foes
as man to his Lord is so dear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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PRIDE AND REALITY
Some people's hands are dipped in boiling oil.
They suffer quite a lot but are too proud.
They deem that pride is all that they should have
as they have nothing except their hauteur.

They know they have no skills and nothing good
and goodness is what builds the stair to heights.
They look down at deep hell and there they find
their scanty skills can go as all is low.

But though they know that boiling oil is pain,
they prefer that to acknowledging loss.
They discard thawing hands in that hot pan
but attach to the pride that brings them down.

The spirit of negation feeds their boast
and neglects all what wise creation builds.
The devil kens his life is complete loss,
but can't admit it as his pride rules all.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHAT DO I WANT ?
I don't know what l really want.
I want a state and not a thing.
I want to be a man whose time
is full of work to reach good sense.

I want a state in which l feel
myself a man who can give help
to lift those dear from puzzling loss
to hear their laughter and their cheers .

I feel that life is taking us
through space inside a closed capsule
that goes so deep inside vague space,
that has no end with routine view.

The empty space has got a maze
that has no paths but just sheer void.
Where is the capsule taking us
is what l want to know or guess .
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE  ROLLER  COASTER
Struggling from the start to end
in a roller coaster ride,
you can't stir from right to left
as the world is flying fast.

Sometimes, you go up and high,
thinking you will reach the sky,
but alas,you find yourself
falling down with sinking heart.

What can you do, but just wait
till your turn comes to its end?
You get off while comers, on,
leaving coaster whirling round.

Despite ups and downs, you feel
you can cheer, or you can wail,
thanking Who placed you on earth
or just cursing plunge and death.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHAT  IS  IT ?
Joy is what you seek in  life.
It's imagined you can find
in success or through a job
that can fill your money bag.

Safes and pockets are filled with
what is called some untold wealth.
Glorious terms are poured on you,
but your goal is out of view.

Inner voice is heard aloud,
"There is something more profoud.
You can't touch with hand but feel
it's endowed to make you grand.

"Once you get it, you feel life's
cheerful with no death to spoil.
You love all, creatures and beings.
Nothing your clear blood can roil."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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GOD  AND  TIME
We ask and think for long what God can be.
He can be goodness in its perfect form,
the perfect state of love, of help and care
and all what we can think of being good.

He is creation in its perfect form,
and wants to keep what He creates quite safe
to move in harmony in endless space,
safe from the trials of negation force.

The thought of time belongs to man on earth
as planets have their suns to turn around.
For God, there is no time to do a job.
There is an endless space where goodness rules.

What are you goodness but an endless state.
It lives in us, and we can feel it most
when we can give a son something he loves.
Then we can live in that elated state.
That goodness was personified in Christ.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WILL VERSE GIVE US LIFE?
What can we expect from this short life,
which is like a dream whose sense is vague?
We scarcely lie down when we wake up
quite amazed at what all that has been.

I've been serious and have used my time
among piles of books that gives me lots.
Most talented was my genius friend,
Father Denis, who taught me best verse.

He endowed me all what man would need
and did not depart till he got sure
that l would be as good as he wished
in a world where success is too hard.

I've continued in my serious way,
spending lots of time among my books.
I have written lots of verse and hope
it will give my teacher and me life.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE WHITE CLOUD
White cloud, your glorious dew is bliss for all,
may our Lord give you the breeze you wish.
You float above the people who await
your matchless shade to give the cool they need.

What can those people do, but pray for you
to stay in your best shape and cheerful form?
You spray the drops of rain that quench their thirst
and feed their buds to bloom and dress their fields.

When you appear from far above the sea,
all sing and dance to welcome such a guest
whose gifts are springs of love and send their dew
which is rare perfume sweet for us and dear.

White cloud, the eyes are up waiting for you.
They search and pray that your shape will appear.
You are the springs of love that we need most
to get the perfumed dew whose smell brings cheer.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHY DO PEOPLE HAVE CHILDREN ?
Children, why do parents bring you here,
to this world of trouble and headache?
Is it for the pleasure that they meet
when a male and female share one bed?

One finds himself stumbling in the world.
Care and fear fill his disturbing life.
He looks for someone to soothe his end,
and bring him a smile to his old age.

Those who have their needs and untold wealth
are so often engaged in their jobs,
crowding their income or seeking joy,
giving no attention to a child.

Man is selfish; hardships taught him that.
Some have children to build their own boon.
Some are zealous for their creed or faith,
but few for sheer love of that poor kid.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHY DON'T WE ?
We don't think that man is weak,
and he shies to ask or speak.
We think just of what we need,
ignoring the others' hope.

Clouds that roam the upper sky
mingle with the clouds nearby,
pushing this and dragging that
so that none of them will drop.

Stars so far are clear and bright,
winking to attract the sight.
Each would like to help the rest
and not miss one of the group.

Why don't we help those who grieve?
Little push will make them live
to enjoy their lives and laugh
and we all can reach the top.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE SPIRIT OF CREATION AND NEGATION
Our Lord has clearly shown us two main groups
as there are two chief powers in the world:
that which constructs, and that which will destroy.
We have to choose which side we belong to.

There is the side which builds as He has built
the universe and made its stars and moons.
The other side will strike a rock with rocks
and **** the dinosaurs and what was near.

There are the hands that stab and deform life,
that begin wars and **** a lot of men,
and hands that cure the eyes and raise the dead.
They stop the wars and build long peace instead.

There are some people who choose ***** gold.
They can't pass through the narrow needle's eye,
and rich men who help the ill and the old,
not for securing heaven but for love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE TRUTH WILL MAKE YOU FREE .
I need the hand that always knows the truth
to lift me up to where the facts are known.
Then, l behold the truth which future life
will show in coming heaven, but from now .

So great will be the man whose earthly life
is plain and clear as his life in the sky .
He will have peaceful life both now and then ,
and nothing will remorse his future mind .

The earth will change to heaven if man lives
the truth that will be known in future life .
In heaven man will live as his heart feels ,
the naked truth which afterlife reveals .

Man is built on the truth and none but it
will make him rest in peace with self and kin .
It will set straight the wrongs that defile life
and bring the charm of heaven to his earth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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BOTH ARE PURE.
What can be purer than a child ?
He has a heart so clean and white .
The snow that covers mountain peaks
is senseless and is not as clean.

A man's heart is as pure and soft;
the weak and pure are perfect twins.
Their father is the love of life
and mother's gaining this dear gem.

The child cries loudly when in fear
and resorts to his mother's skirt.
The man, when afraid of near death,
refuges to his Lord's calm shrine.

Attacked, a child will shout and scowl
to show his might and his great wrath.
Insult a man and you will see
his shouting, anger, and his strength.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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BY FORCE, LIFE
Happy life is in my hand.
I can make it smile by force.
In my room no sun can shine
if the curtains are not drawn.

Days have taught me that this life
can't be treated with kind words.
Life destroys those who are kind
as its goal's man to annoy.

Life, my best days were when l
was so young and did not care
for your finger that would warn,
but l mocked your stupid glare.

At that time, l snatched what could
bring a smile to my glad mouth.
I'll do now what l did then,
mock you, life, despite your chain.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHO RULES THE UNIVERSE ?
Is it nature or a Lord so high ?
I prefer it to be a kind Lord.
Nature cannot feel ; it is mere laws ,
but the Lord will love and feel for man .

Nature will impose the hardest rules .
What is right in heartless way is done.
Man is not a rock, a tree or germs
that endure and have no tears to run.

Nature can't be lenient like a Dad
Who accepts insults to save His son.
He is ready to be hung on cross
and forgive those who gave Him the myrrh .

Who would like a robot as a mum
to endow the care that a child needs
with no real love nor tender heart
nor the soul that conveys moral needs ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHERE MAN LIVES !
Where are we in this endless space ?
Where is the start ? Where is its end?
If our sun is so far off ,
and millions like it are strewn off ,
What can we guess about this space ?
Where are its depth and its extent ?

What can man be ? A creeping ant ?
I would love like that ant to be .
It may find itself in a field .
The field has limits it can see ,
and after all it has no mind ;
no more than that ants wish to find.

It is hard for man to look up
and see the space that extends far
with supposed east and supposed west ,
but none can know where they exist .
How much l pity you poor man
and wish you have the brain of ants .
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A POEM IS A PRAYER .
Good poetry, you are the voice
that moves the heart of that who writes.
His thoughts pass through his heart and float
on sheets of paper pure and white .

Bad thoughts are schemed inside the mind ,
which calculates the gain and loss.
They can't come near the heart as love
has made this site its lasting throne.

A poem that the heart indites
can't side with hands immersed in blood.
The heart is always soft and kind
and sides with feathers of its sort.

How great verse is when of pure source !
It flows to quench the burning thirst ,
and cleans the soiled mind of its dirt ,
a prayer inspired by the Lord.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MAN IS FASTER THAN THE STARS.
Where are you taking us, mysterious time ?
You have the slowest change compared in life .
You burn your heat and light that move in space,
and have a little change we scarcely trace.

We change so quickly not like your slow change
and move from state to state so fast and soon .
We are so fast and our speed destroys
the flesh we have and changes it to soil.

Just yesterday, a mammoth fell and died.
A ditch of snow brought it its instant death.
We found it frozen after such long time
that seems like yesterday to our eyes.

How are you moving stars, and how does man
Progress from state to state in such short time ?
Each man feels that he is the core of space.
Have pity on his heart and slow his race.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

POETRY AND NOBILITY
Poetry, are you a stupid voice
for a kind of love that men despise,
or the glory of the men who killed
lots of men for silly doubt in mind ?

Are you flowers that cast off their smell
though they flourish on a marsh of dirt?
Or a bird that sings a lovely tune
to enchant the happy and the strong ?

Are you just like that who sings to please
those who throw him pieces of carved bones?
Or are you a means that noble men
sing to know the world and make it known ?

Poetry, you are the hope for men
who endure the hardship of this world .
You aspire for what can give sense
or a target that makes life worthwhile.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

POETRY IS NOT A GAME.
Poetry is not a game
which fills parts of your free time.
It's a life that pours on men
if they are blessed by their God.

Poets live a state of spell
which transcends fhem far above,
filling their minds with wise scenes,
and their hearts with lots of love.

Poetry can never bring
gold or jewels to your safe.
Let ants garner winter stores.
Cicalas are on cloud nine.

Poems are the ropes of ray
that the Lord rains down on man
to remind him of Eden
and lift him to highest sky.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE CELESTIAL MIRTH
A poet not so pleased with men and ground
raised up his eyes and looked at distant skies.
He grasped a thought just like an angel white
that charmed his heart and brought him great delight.

The angel was so pure, a simple nun,
so clean of heart and far from worldly whims,
obsessed with what was good for tortured men
and eager to endow the touch of Christ.

He found himself so cleaned of worldly dirt
that stuck to him from gluey desert sweat.
He felt a shower of the morning dew
did wash away the squalor of his world.

He was so pleased with what he sensed above,
the purest longing and the deepest love
that carried him to profound, pleasant thoughts
without what fouls the earth and spoils its mirth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

BUT WE HAVE TO LOOK !
Oh, bird of love, how sweet you are !
You make the world around you shine
with light that allures who are near
to look and fall in endless love.

No wonder that your lovely mate
will rush when she beholds your sight.
She runs to yield its kissing beak
to share with you that cordial touch.

Your eyes are shining like the stars,
your beak, the end of crescent moon,
Your hues have mixed the green with blue
to own the hearts of who see you.

You have the charm that touches us
to love the beauty of the world.
How can we get your lovely spell
if we don't look to love that view.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WOMEN AND MEN
Women, you are great and smart.
What is useful is your act.
While men practice sports, you cook
and you do the housework art.

Men, your work is for yourself.
No wonder. The strong are so.
Those who deem they are so soft
carry life, and none they do !

Your work is always so quiet.
Calm work has built all the world.
Drums, don't be so proud; you are
empty hollows and mere void.

Go on working, women, go.
On your heads the world will poise.
Without your hard work we are
confused world with lots of noise.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE STUPID AND THE WISE
Your heaven is the joy you live from now.
You live with perfect love and boundless joy
you can read in a notion from good rhyme
or action by a man you meet by chance.

Your heaven is the good heart that you have
which is the bliss of God, so full of love.
That love takes you to places few can reach
as people of this world have the wrong wish.

They wait for respect or a word of praise
to spread their feathers like peacocks when pleased.
That is the heaven of the stupid ****.
Perhaps it is expressed to jibe or mock.

The heaven of wise men, the endless sky,
that hides under a scene that reveals life,
might be great delight seen when a child eats
or joy when a babe sees his mother near.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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