THE RIFLE AND THE FLUTE

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

THE  PRISONER
Have we thought just for once that we live in a jail?
This jail is not so large though we deem that it is.
Looking down, we see earth; looking up, a blue dome.
They surround this small jail which we can't go beyond.

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

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

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

THE OLD WOMAN AND HER OLD CAT

Beside me sit and purr my cat,
So cute a kitten when you sat
On my lap when l brought you here
To live with me so small and dear.

I was then greying when you were
A little kitten of soft fur.
I used to feed your little mouth
And watch your small teeth in their growth.

Your heart and mine both beat us through
To this old age with its sad view.
We both sit near this well lit stove
And think a lot before we move.

My cat, you are my dearest friend;
You shared my trip to this old end.
I wonder if we'll meet up there,
Where life will be quite free from care.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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

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

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

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

THE  LIGHTHOUSE
People vary in this world.
Some can build a bright lighthouse,
and direct distracted ships
when the harbour's out of sight.

Some just look with envious eyes
and ask themselves,"Why don't l
build a lighthouse, and my name
shines like them and sees the light?"

When they see a new lighthouse,
they get mad and use their might,
not to help endangered ships,
but destroy the shining light.

People differ in their sight .
I accept and support that,
but l hate to see some eyes
hope to destroy what is bright.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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

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

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

If weak, you find no place for you to go.
All places are for those who can their power show.
You have that trait, you walk with scornful pride.
If not, your place is just the grave where you can hide.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MIND AND ETERNITY
I love man as he has flesh like beasts, but with mind.
Creatures live their own lives caring for food and drink.
They get wed and enjoy all the mirth that man owns,
but don't have mind to think of their fate and cruel death.

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

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

Can mind be a bliss sign that tells man life won't end?
Has God sent a clear proof to those who have this mind?
It tells them that this tool is the fruit of that tree
that shows evil and good, so from death man gets free.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

GLOOM  AND  CHEER
Whatever has an end can't make man glad
as when it starts, he thinks about its end.
What can this life give man if death waits there
and he  thinks of its scythe and ruthless fear?

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

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

Then life's most buoyant smiles on lips appear
as death won't be the doom but complete cheer,
and man will live the joy that never ends,
which starts just when he knows that life extends.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ANGEL OR DEVIL?
Father, tell me why your eyes
are so red and filled with tears?
You make my heart veiled with black
though l dress my face with cheers.

Life was kind with all of us.
Now, you are ill, thrown in bed,
and your children are so pale ;
we can scarcely eat dry bread.

I am nothing, but a belle,
lots of beauty and young age.
That's enough to bring back joy
and regain Your happy page.

First, l leave my fiance.
Then, you should not know my job.
If you know l am a *****,
you will wear a shameful robe.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE OLD MAN'S SOCK
His grandchild came from distant land.
She saw a hole in his old sock.
She laughed and told all those around,
and made that hole their evening's talk.

He got so famous for that hole
so quickly and with no effort,
while pages of verse he could fill
and no one gave them just a squint.

He laughed and made them laugh with him
when he could play that witty role,
"I am a grandpa and can't claim
to be one without my sock's hole."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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

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

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

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

MAN  AND  ROBOT
What happened to the crowds that used to smile?
They used to dress their eyes in bright attire.
Something has happened and eclipsed their cheer,
the last attempt to regain their morale.

They were so proud of their own minds and strength,
but science came to rob them of that wealth.
The robot helped to make them look too small
and change their cheers into a fit of sulks.

Majestic cyber, you are great in might.
You make man seem too slow and short of sight
as man leans on the mind and you on maths;
he seems too slow to race in your fast paths.

Man can't defy you; he seems slow and frail,
which makes him tend to cower and to quail
as robots leave him far behind, and he
has nothing save that he should bend his knee.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

PETALS AND THORNS

You want to write about your love,
Don't use a sheet with ink stuff.
A subject as pure as white dove
On rose's petals you should graph.

The petals so soft and fragile
Can convey meaning of great depth.
Paper for love is not worthwhile
As love is dearer than huge wealth.

Don't write about it with your pen.
Your pen is plastic and can't feel.
Write it with rose's thorns which then
The thorns to petals can appeal.

Between the petals and the spike,
You can have hope mixed with great pain.
The pain that Cupid caused to Psyche
Can't be conveyed on sheet by pen.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

THE  MYSTERIOUS  PLEDGE
There is something in this world.
I don't know what it can be.
It is hidden from my eyes.
I feel, but l can't it see.

Always, l hope that some day
It will show its smiling face
and fills my heart with great cheers
as it gives me all l miss.

It will come and bring its gifts
that l expect for long time.
That won't be the end of hope
as it pledges more to come.

It's my hope all through this life,
which time and death spoil its shape.
This mysterious pledge is what
fills my life with greatest hope.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

The HOLY TRINITY
My Lord, l see how You are three in one.
That will well clear how You made man like You.
You are the Father, Who rules all the worlds
as man's soul rules his mind and flesh on land.

You want us well to know that man's pure soul
has led the flesh to bear the cross of pain.
Through mind and flesh man works, but flesh will die
to resurrect to life and rise again.

The Lord, the Son, in His Flesh walked the path
that His Soul set to Him in Flesh to walk.
Then His Flesh rose from death as His Soul set
to make His Flesh as glorious as His Soul.

The Holy Spirit is the Love between.
He shares the Soul and Flesh to rule the worlds.
And thus, the Three are One but in three forms
as man in soul, and flesh and exchanged love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A TOAST FOR THE PRESENT

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE CHARM OF DISTANCE

A song from far across the dale,
A voice so sweet of distant girl,
A warbling coming from afar,
All leave a heart aspire for more.

A word from far in written form
Can stir in you a raging storm.
You wish to near and kiss the hand
That's conveyed you that waited word.

You hear a voice from distant place.
You hug its tune in long embrace.
Your heart is placed in your fond ear.
The mouth-piece gets to you so dear.

Long distance you play with my heart
And make it shake and long to dart,
To catch that voice or that word in
And ****** it in heart within.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE STUPID MOUSE
A tiger cub was shy and dull.
A mouse assisted him to gain
the courage that all tigers owned
to get the name he should attain.

It taught him how to swim and climb
high mountains and to reach the peak,
to be so bold, to be so strong,
and when in hunger what to seek.

The tiger got so bold and strong
and held the post through what it taught.
He started to despise his friends,
and his foes with great fear were fraught.

One day, he was with hunger struck.
He looked around for what to eat.
No food was found to calm him down.
The mouse could form his piece of meat.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

HEARTS' GIFTS ARE FREE.

I help some people to be glad;
They do their best to drive me mad.
I give them water from my tears;
They never see my love and cares.

My Lord, it can be clearly seen
So hard their lives have always been.
They've suffered quite a lot in life.
What can we expect from that grief?

Just give and don't ask for return.
No hearts can hold back what they own.
If they have love in depth of heart,
Without requests with it depart.

So few who've suffered can give free
As they need more what others plea.
Don't ask for love from who have thirst;
They need that water to drink first.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHY DO I WRITE ?

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

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

THE REAL PRINT
We are in race with time to leave a print
In such an immense world where we exist.
Each has the sense of self, as all the crowd,
He tries to show his worth in this vast world.

Some kings had printed names before we came.
They proved how great they were in fame and name.
They led such countless hordes and conquered lands
And lots were lost to build their statues' stands.

I drudge to scrawl my print with my own hand;
My own sweat is the price for which is paid.
I wish my print to give some help to man
And not to make him worse or bring him down.

How great those are who build and not destroy,
Who give and not just take to reach their Troy,
Whose love weaves quilts for those who feel so cold
And give a push to those who are not bold.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A VOICE FROM AFAR

Distance makes the voice so sweet.
It flies from a heart to greet,
Bringing words of softest kind
That it picks from distant land.

On its way it finds a key
For your heart that waits with spree
Whose charm comes from distant place
Choosing your heart for its grace.

That long journey sharpens lure
Which your heart fails to endure.
It would craze you to get near,
But where are you from that dear?

Echo has such an effect
As its source is not direct.
It comes from an obscure place
Which your  heart would pant to trace.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

YOUR FACE OR THE MOON?

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MY POETRY
We live a moment of great cheer
and see the world dancing around.
Life gets the moon that reflects what
our heart, the sun, that gives its light.

What are you, verse, but just a voice
of rhythmic cadence in the heart
which comes spontaneously from there,
a song that chants what the heart bears?

The words are derived from its tune,
arranged by what the cadence yields,
recited to the tongue to say
what sort of state the heart abides.

With closed eyes we hear the tongue sings,
repeating what the tune dictates,
no change of words the tune allows
as verse can't accept altered sense.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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

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

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

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

THE BLAMELESS GUILT

Relish is far from her dim heart.
No jokes can her sad heart delight.
No man can look at her plain face
Though her heart beats like any lass.

Her pride does not let her shed tears,
Nor sadness at her face appears.
Her heart is sad, but her face cheats,
A smirk on it its frown competes.

I saw her once walking at night;
The street was dark like her sad heart.
I greeted her but her deep sigh
Revealed her heart with its veiled cry.

I hurried past but felt the truth.
I was upset for that poor youth,
Who has no guilt, but her plain face,
And how can she that guilt erase ?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE LAMB'S FLEECE

Sometimes, we feel the world smiles,
And sweetest joy in us compiles.
Without a reason for that joy,
It falls on us and we enjoy.

What is the source of that fresh breeze
That cools our hearts and minds can please?
It makes us see the world so sweet
And all our problems we defeat.

Is it a message from above
That falls on those who live great love ?
It keeps away from hearts that hate
As joy and hate can never mate.

The source is vague but must be blessed
As misdeeds can't with joy be dressed.
If holy life can give us peace,
Why don't we wear the Lamb's pure fleece ?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHEN YOU REALLY LOVE.
If you are fond of someone, you will find
that all her deeds can flirt your loving heart.
You watch her fingers when she weaves some work
and want to press her weaving to your chest.

You love her words and wish to kiss her lips
the purest kiss that makes you fly to height.
Her words are inculcated in your soul
as they endow all your celestial might.

When she just looks at you, she makes you feel
the soft and charming eyes are calling you
to save that look which gives a loving wave
that cools your heart like roses by the dew.

You love to catch her hand when in the street.
It sends a spark that gives your heart a move.
You feel the worth of life and why man hopes
to live so long if life can give such love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

FEAR

I know what kind of place is hell;
Fear is an ember from that well.
It burns all what it just comes near,
Destroying man and his career.

No man will choose hell if he can
As he knows fire and its pain.
He won't take what himself will hurt
And place it in his throbbing heart.

From oldest days fear could destroy
Old dreams and sever men from joy.
It could bring failure from success
And distress from the state of bliss.

I wonder how men can trust it
Though they know what it can commit.
They know its acts to hell is near,
But they still follow ruthless fear.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

GIRLS
Girls are made to fill the world
with what's lovely and so good.
When they pass me in the street,
they fill my nose with sweet scent.

They are like a jasmine tree
with green eyes so full of glee,
smoothest touch with lovely hue;
I see them as charming view.

Those old men who are so prim
stare at them with their old whim,
claiming girls have lost their shame;
they gape at them just to blame.

Girls for me can make my wife,
mothers who bring us to life,
sisters who can be so great,
daughters who are hearts and sight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

LOOKING FOR PERFECTION

The sense that man is incomplete,
And wish to feel he is replete
Will stir his heart to take a move
Towards the feeling of sweet love.

Love is the call of flesh and soul.
Both keep the shout and keep the call
Till they both find what's fit for them
To make them both live sweetest dream.

No incomplete man can be calm
Till findind the girl and the balm
That soothe the thirst in his dry heart
And with her he can never part.

She gets the flesh, the heart, the soul,
And he says, " You have got me all.
Give me just your heart and take me.
Without You l can never be. "

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

THE TIRED, HUNGRY DONKEY

Poor donkey, you search for your food;
Why don't you look and see your load ?
You suffer from its heavy weight.
It is the barley that you eat.

You wait the mercy of your man.
Stretch your head and eat what you can.
It's shameful to have on your back
The thing that you most badly lack.

I am so clever, stupid ***.
No man can ever me harass
Except for people who are rich;
I hear their words and do their wish.

I bend to my boss and accept
What he believes and his concept.
I also bow to what strong men
Impose on me and don't complain.

I keep my silence when a lout
Begins to speak and tends to shout.
When one of high post speaks to me,
I just say, "Yes, sir," and agree.

All other men l answer back,
And what they say l never hark.
The donkey laughs and runs away
So glad to carry his barley.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

1_ THEY CLEARED THEIR CONSCIENCE !

They were so hard, those years supposed
To be the sweetest in my life,
The early childhood that composed
The period void of care and strife.

I drudged to earn the bread l ate
With no one round to love or teach,
A poor girl that men would await
To find a chance to leap and reach.

All people gathered to destroy
That stupid girl that was too young.
They offered me a little toy,
And l connived what they had wrung.

The toy is still with me till now.
It is so dear, an old friend.
It cleared their conscience to endow
And lead my life to this foul end.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

ENJOY WHAT YOU HAVE.

You want your heart to flood with cheers,
Enjoy the toy your hands can deal.
It's lain beside; your eyes can see.
You do not yearn and for it grieve.

Don't search for what your hands can't reach.
The sun is far and its rays scorch.
Seek for the moon that soars so near,
Where man could land, and found it dear.

Enjoy what God has given you
And let your smile perch on your lips.
You please yourself and God above;
He wants a smile for His great gifts.

The smile on your lips gets so sweet,
And people love to see and share.
It is contagious to your heart,
That lives delight like hearts of saints.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHO  CAN  LIVE  THERE  ?

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

THE LOOK THAT EXPLAINS LIFE

There are lots of people whom you meet
But all you forget after you greet.
Only few you keep in heart and mind
As they have what can your fond heart bind.

People are mere victims in this life,
Grief and danger in it full and rife.
Only few have looks that go so deep
Summing up all life in just one peep.

They don't need to send a message loud;
They just look or act and you are bound
To get all the gist of life on earth
With all its sad fate and dreary dearth.

They move deep emotions that you have
And the deepest sighs in your chest heave.
They tell you a story through one look;
Little gist of it can fill a book.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

DEATH, THE CHEERFUL BIRTH

I'm lost inside a dense forest.
To find my way out l can't trust.
My fear has started to prevail
And sweat began me to assail.

How fearful life is when not sure
And where you go is quite obscure.
You fear all kinds of dreads and pains
That your obscure setting attains.

The forest may contain wild beasts
That tear to pieces flesh and wrists.
But what unknown state death can bring
After in grave one has been flung !

That makes me think of what faith gives
To make man sure his soul survives.
Then man will feel that his own death
Is nothing but a cheerful birth.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE VIOLIN AND THE DRUM

Some people are too proud and vain,
But surely no one can know why.
They speak as if they bring the rain
While they eat what you toil and l.

Life has taught us that those big mouthed
Whether they are right or quite wrong,
Or if they're liked or fully loathed
Their own tune must go with each song.

How strange it is that who have sense
Are always faulty and not sure,
Whereas those who mean gross offence
Are right and their words have great lure.

The fiddle strives to carry you
To planes on their sublime cloud nine;
Few strokes of drum give much ado
And from your height they bring you down.

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
____________

HAPPINESS THROUGH AGONY

My Lord well knew His final step
Would be His end on ruthless cross.
As man He chose His way to grip
Though He knew coming pain was gross.

Though man, He could not opt escape
As that would bring Him great remorse,
An endless pain, and loss of hope,
Eternal crosses in their force.

The pain of cross would save His soul,
With all the beauty of its love.
He stuck to His soul happy goal
Whose anguish was short; He could shove.

He was so glad despite that pain
Though agony was grim and hard.
His joy of that cross had great gain;
He rescued who killed Him and scarred.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE STONE AND KERNEL

Great work of art, what can you be?
A great charm that delights to see
As you sow joy inside the heart
And bear new hope to blinded sight.

I sit to read and strain my mind
Not just a boring sight to find
As life is full of such dull scenes
That fill the streets and magazines.

But l look for what can refresh
My mind, and my dry heart enmesh.
If life is sad, you can find means
To break the dull, boring routines ;
You can find ways to bring bright rays
Into the gloom that darkens days.

You can explore a deeper sense
That gives us higher confidence
In hidden strength in our depth
That despair attacks ere its birth.

Where are your strong teeth, work of art,
To break the hard almond apart
And reach the core of tasteful pith
That renders life full of great mirth ?

The art which is of worth to read
Is that which goes so deep inside
The rocky mine of jewels rare
As rarest gems are hiding there.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE CHEATING CAKE

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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

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

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

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

THEIR EYES DRESS MY OUTSIDE LOOK.
Give me a clean inside and l don't care
for all my outer state if foul or fair.
Let all the people say l am a thief
if l am certain that l lead clean life.

Let all accuse my honour and my name
and all my friends indict me for deep shame.
If l look inside and find myself clean,
I feel as fresh and pure as winter rain.

Nothing can disturb my inner clean white
if that pure ****** snow lives in my heart,
but whiteness can't be true when dressed as clothes
as it can hide the dirt that the heart loathes.

I scrupulously dress myself inside.
Let people dress me as my deeds decide.
If they have ***** eyes, that is their flaw.
That can't smear my heart or change its hue.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

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
____________

WHAT IS LOVE?
You puzzle me. What are you, love?
You are a feeling in each cell
that attracts one to someone else,
wishing to give her all his life.

If he can give his soul he does
so that she can live longer age.
Her long life will give her a chance
to live long periods of delight.

When he sees her lips have a smile,
he closes his eyes on that sight.
When he hears laughter from her side,
he plugs his ears to keep that sound.

He does not care if she gives him
a thing to join with him his dream.
What he cares for is to see her
the happiest person in the world,
By JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

MAD BUT KIND
I saw her in the street at night.
The sky had newly lost its light.
She was about fifty years old;
her face was ***** but so kind.

She had a cigarette in her hand
but not a smoker, l perceived.
She was quite strange to curious eyes.
I looked at her with mild surprise.

She glanced at me just like a child,
and offered what was in her hand.
She seemed afraid of smoking it
and like a child gave what she got.

She was so scared of her wrong deed
and as a young girl she appeared.
She had a defect. That was clear,
but she was soft, which moved my tear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

GOOD POETRY

When people write and call it verse,
Their lines must have appeal and sense,
Which draws attention to a thought
With depth and meaning must be fraught.

When words are joined in skilful way,
They make your verse a lovely tray,
But when we look at gifts on it,
We will be fully frustrated.

For me the contents should come first
To charm the readers by its gist.
I want the tray to be quite clean,
But what it holds should please the brain.

When thoughts have charm, that pleases much
As your verse can its purpose reach;
But when you give your lines good form,
That gives your contents much more charm.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?
Where can l find my peace of mind
while each is drawing the common quilt
to his side not just for a cover,
but having it, no sense of guilt?

I shiver and beg for a share,
but no one listens to my plea.
I'm dying of the freezing cold,
but all are blind to what they see.

I look at their wide, greedy eyes,
but find them full of spurning pride.
They pride themselves on haughty might,
and look down on my pleading dread.

Am l a gent or just a mouse,
that fears to pull as others do?
I've thrown to hell my gentle ways,
and just to me the quilt l draw.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________