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 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
____________

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
____________

THE MOON WAS THE CULPRIT.
Once, l noticed that the moon was shy,
creeping slowly in the immense sky.
Looking down, l espied two young kids,
sitting in a garden quite nearby.

Love appeared the master of their lives.
They were fully silent and disturbed.
They were shy to show the thoughts they had
in the depth of hearts, but l could know.

Not far from those two young hearts l sat.
"Who had taught them love?"l asked the moon.
Summer stripped the sky of all its clouds,
and the moon, confused, shunned my request.

They were too young for such a great love.
Who could be the teacher of their hearts?
None could be accused but the shy moon
as l noticed it escaped my leer.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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GIVE ME MY DRESS AND COME WITH ME.
Dear mum, give me the dress l love to wear.
I want to be the charm of all who're there.
I yearn the eyes to look only at me.
I am a girl, my mum; that is my glee.

My eyes have unique spell; no eyes can vie.
The other girls see me and feel so shy.
No wonder, mum, l want to be so fair.
I am a girl, and that to me is dear.

The young men in the town will come to dance.
I'll be a lovely sight for those who glance.
No one can see my eyes and go away.
I want the best of them with me to stay.

Don't worry, mum; l won't leave you alone.
You are the one who gave me what l own.
You'll always be inside my heart and home.
You are my start, and you are my end dream.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

WHAT IS THE USE?
The obscure darkness fills the sky
with stars that twinkle like man's eyes.
They ask if man can find an aim
of this fast trip and his short life.

The stars tell him that they have seen
a lot of people come and die.
They saw the cavemen yesterday.
Today, they see the modern men.

They passed like guests and still they do.
Why do they come? where do they go?
The stars and eyes twinkle and ask,
"What is the use of this vague trip?"
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE NYMPH'S TOUCH
What are you love but that most tender nymph,
who is so fond of its most silky skin?
She has a sort of beauty that charms all;
she touches hearts and makes them fond of her.

She takes the form of that most fragile girl,
who has the softest skin of rosy hue,
and close to be transparent like a veil
that has the fibre of the whitest cloud.

Your girl, sweet love, is so fond of herself.
She loves to unveil her thin, light clothes
so that she can reveal her tender skin
to roses that will wan when vied by her.

But she's so pure that she can't bear to be
seen by the human's eyes that yearn for more.
Her beauty is a sort seen by the soul
when that soul yearns to be serenely drunk.
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
____________

SCIENCE  AND  CULTURE
Science, don't you see
you've destroyed a lot of things,
you've devoured the oldest rhythms,
which endowed those lovely rhymes
what they had of charm?
You've attracted all the eyes
just to your selfish mind.
Poets, singers have already left the sweetest rhymes,
and you are still eating all the minds.
Where is that life that was full of those great tunes,
of that beauty from the past?
They've all been replaced by shapeless stuffs,
by cheapest songs,
and above all weapons,
rockets, and what can tear all apart,
science and the arts,
on which man wasted time.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

IT'S YOUR CHOICE.
*** is not a blaze that we should quench.
If we don't, we suffer from its clench.
Those whose minds depend on moral scales
can subdue it when its flame assails.

We are not mere babies who would cry,
making lots of fuss till their mums buy
what they want. We know that *** can have
such a sequel on the sense of love.

*** can join two hearts and make them one
if it's clean and built on lasting plan.
Their relation will keep them both pure
and to heaven their love will endure.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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EUROPE: PAST AND PRESENT
I'm sorry for those who have been
the greatest masters of the scene,
the Europeans, whom l love,
who were so wise and turned naive.

They were great strength for a long time,
from Ancient Greece to famous Rome,
to present times when their grand past
still has some force to make them last.

You had your power and strong hands.
Now, you need others for your deeds.
The others work just for themselves
and soon they'll throw you on the shelves.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

MY SHIP TO THE SKY
I'm glad that life has started to be kind.
My way has commenced to get me spellbound.
I've worked so ******* what can yield good verse,
and now my trees have sprouted their fruit buds.

Life showed me for some time its frosty way,
but now it reveals its most comely path
and by the help of Christ, l start to see
a port like that which led to grandma's house.

The voyage was too long but l was pleased
that mother was so glad to meet her mum.
Now, l behold a port much like that one,
but this will lead me to my long lost sky.
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
____________

WHAT IS THE PURPOSE?
Why are we on this most careless earth,
where each man looks for his own welfare?
We are left to face this ruthless world.
What can be the purpose of this trip?

Why do parents bring their kids to life
if it is a lot of work and care?
Do they have them as a helping hand
or avenge themselves on others' deeds?

There must be a purpose for their act?
What can that obscure objective be?
If there is no end that can please man,
what can be the aim of parents' roles?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

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
____________

WHY DO WE WRITE POETRY?
I wonder why we tend to write
our verse and mostly at midnight.
We wait long time with our pen
for thoughts to come not knowing when.

We write about some useless thoughts
that concern none except our hearts.
We use a language quite obscure
to dress the verse with what can lure.

Insisting on wasting the time,
why don't we spend it on good rhyme,
the verse that brightens our day
and makes us pass a clearer way?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

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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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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WHAT CAN MAN DEPEND ON?
This life can't lead man anywhere.
Its end is blocked by sheer despair.
No features in it can remain.
He sticks to gueses that are vain.

Mysterious is the way man comes.
He ignores what he was before.
He is unconscious what can be
the state existed ere this earth.

What is the phase that he expects
will come when man will leave the world?
He can't depend on flesh and bones
as those who give them soon repose.
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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THEIR WORLD AND MINE
My heart, don't look at those who try
to derail you from your own way.
They show you dirt and say it's fine;
they have their lives and l have mine.

The man who lives with his own soul
can't bear the mucus of a snail,
the sweat they produce on his chest,
where a clean girl would hate to rest.

Leave me alone in my pure world,
where my soul roams in its green field.
The flowers bloom, proud of their hues
to give such gorgeous, cheerful views.
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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THE HIGH PRICE
Each man feels that he is the only one,
who is the central part of all the world,
and Jesus felt the same; He was a man
and sensed what other men were going through.

This Man and God knew well His sacrifice,
but was aware it would save Adam's kind.
He pitied them as Adam felt great joy
ere he was thrown a prey in his tough world.

But He could also know the price was high,
and He would pass throughout the cross rough way.
It would be His slow death that would approach
in those most horrid steps to that sad end.

They began beating Him; it was the start
of coming stages that were void of ruth
as all were gruesome, leading to grim death,
the sad departure from the near and far.

But man was weak and dear, and He loved him,
and wanted him to share the afterlife,
the life He wished to all who hoped to share,
even the thief who asked Him to be there.
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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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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IS THAT REAL FAITH?
Don't imagine that the man who hurts
other people has a tranquil heart.
Perhaps, he goes through a lot of pain
like the child whose hunger makes him cry.

You can feel the harm that he can cause,
but you don't discern what state he lives.
He endures a lot that's hard to bear,
and no person thinks of giving hand.

Loneliness and fear control his life,
and you see his inner pouring tears,
but you think of self and not his grief,
deeming that you are the faithful side.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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POETRY AND THOUGHTS
For some, great verse is words well coined,
well culled to read and nicely joined
with images that stay in mind
and which are nice as their eyes find.

They try to show what they can sew,
a lovely dress in style and hue,
but they forget that this nice dress
should fit what can the mind impress.

For me, l read good verse till l
can find a thought that makes me sigh
when l find what can charm my heart,
the notions that give me delight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WRITTEN  WORDS
Life gets ugly when those who're supposed
to reveal the truth seek their own gain.
They would aim for fame and they don't care
what the message is from what they write.

When they scrawl some words and people read,
readers are quite taken by their lines.
Published words can have such great effect
as some think that they the truth reflect.

Written words, you are a charming light
which some, like the moths, get near to die,
or you can be like the lighthouse flash
which some others use to save their lives.
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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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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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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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
____________

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
____________

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
ALL RightS RESERVED
____________

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
____________

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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FAITH, THE UNSEEN DAWN
The way true faith is drawn must be well seen
before you do what Jesus wants from man.
We should be sure that faith is quite abstract
resembling what the superstition’s like.

But each is what the other will condemn.
Where are the acts of Satans from the saints?
The saints are like the snow that’s pure and white
while Satans’ snares are in a place too dark.

Give us the hearts that that Jesus like in kids.
There we can look for faith that children have
in parents who are there, and they would stick
so close to safety which has endless love.

What are you faith but that cool dawn of light
that has the softness which the eyes would crave
to absorb what they can from early morn
and give to life when it gets too obscure.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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