ABORTION

Man is always with who has much strength
Who defends himself and has much wealth.
All look down on who is poor and frail,
And for his clear rights he can't fight well.

Embryo, who will defend your right
If your mother does not for you fight?
You have no one except tender folk
Who speak meekly when they tend to talk.

You are helpless if your mother's hard
She herself will your young life discard.
You have no help save your Lord above
Who beholds you with an eye of love.

Can you dream that your mum feels so glad
If laws of all countries with her stand.
Mothers **** and all should share the crime
As their victims' shouts to their hearts climb.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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
____________

WHAT'S LOVE?
I've thought you're joy and utmost gain;
I've found you, love, an extreme pain.
You've pushed my heart to get attached.
Then you've got supreme in my heart.

In spring, when fair, the clime can please,
but still, l fear the touch of a breeze.
When time cheers up, l laugh but say,
" Good times have got a shortlived stay."

Love gets the whole of my fond soul
but care makes my soul soft and frail.
It gets too spent under love's yoke
but for love's sake, l cannot talk.

Love gets the master of my life
that for it l wage fiercest strife.
It makes me ken the life of Christ,
Who for His great love His life lost.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

GLORIOUS LIFE
It's glorious to pass through the world
though there is death in its last scene.
Its start is great, the joyful child,
who lives a period of delight.

He grows up and he feels his mind
start to unfold the hidden wealth
that life conceals inside its time
and he starts diving in its depth.

One gets so famous for his rhyme
and lives with angels in their sky.
He enjoys life with rhyme and thoughts
and glides in heaven where he floats.

One finds in science various fields
with Einstein his fame will bloom,
while some are charmed by Napoleon.
All feel glad when their planes are flown.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A MESSAGE FROM THE SKY

I look upward towards the skies,
And try to decipher the clouds.
Perhaps they draw what satisfies
Me with a shape that love abounds.

On earth l cannot see what l
Have been awaiting for long time.
I want what can me gratify
With shapes that have something sublime.

The clouds are white and pure like snow.
I've liked that hue of saintly worth.
They also draw a dove or cow;
We have a lot of them on earth.

All that l see can on earth be,
But in the sky, they are quite pure.
I know the problem is in me.
I can't begrime, then them endure.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A JOYFUL MEETING
All were so happy showing winsome youth,
singing and dancing on a top wavelength.
The place around was full of brilliant glee
that aroused in my heart a sense of spree.

I heard inside my heart an urgent call
that springs of life would inside me install.
I found all life around call with loud voice,
"Get up, you, sluggish man, your joy announce."

I found myself in a dancing ring and life,
all life, was playing music on a fife,
Looking at me to jump and fill the place  
with what my soul was full, great, immense bliss.

I felt the strength of joy moving my arms,
granting me all the pluck, and beat my drums.
I danced and danced not caring for my age
and filled the sphere with glee and spry messege.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A PORTRAIT OF TWO CREATURES
A little boy of four is outside home.
He has a sandwich of delicious ham.
A cat rubs him and looks up with a mew.
He says, "All right, l'll share my meal with you.

"A bite for you and one for me all through.
I know your bites are small, but they will do.
I'll take small bites as l want to be fair.
Then both of us can take the correct share.

"This is the final round with its large meat.
Take just your due and give me mine to eat."
He offers it, and the cat eats much more
than is assigned to it as said before.

"You are a greedy cat. Why did you eat
more than your share of that delicious meat?
I'll tell my mum," he goes home crying loud.
The cat feels sorry, but it likes that round.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
_____________

AN ACT THAT MEANS A LOT
What made you, faithful dog, run inside?
You would spend in the park all your day.
Tongues of flame shouted loud ; what drove you
to leave joy and rush in that hot way.

You deemed your dear old friend was inside
and escaped through the men who were there.
No one could get to you as the flames
were so fierce and the place void of air.

You went in and searched for your dear man,
but you did not find him in the house.
Getting out was stopped by spears of flame
and escape from that hell had no chance.

You stayed there, black and charred but your name
would stay bright in the mind of that man.
He would tell your short tale of true love ;
it might help who are dubbed quite human.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WITH DEATH, LIFE IS PUNISHMENT.
What is the use of being born
if you don't stay alive for good?
The stars live long, yet they will pass.
The thought of death will wreck their lives.

The Lord has trampled that who holds
a sickle and looks like bare bones.
Where is the gain that stars live long
since if time flies, they will lose light?

My heart is with who's vanquished death
as what is good should have no flaws.
No man would like to be alive
if all will turn to useless earth.

How great is Christ, the mighty Son,
Who's stripped death of its fearful strength
to give mankind an endless life
to live the joy that has no end.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

FATHER DENIS FITZ PATRICK IN A DREAM

You taught me English from the start
And helped me till l got B.A. in art,
Then appeared in a dream with prize for what l write.

You taught me verse and cleared my course
Through teachings of the Lord you gave me force
Till l could indite what my Lord would me announce.

You are the saint who came to me
A gift from God to show what l should see,
And then to make me write on which God will agree.

So pleased, l asked you why you gave
Me such a medal that l truly love;
You said to protect me and give my work a shove.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  ENGLISH  LANGUAGE

Lots of people use this tongue
And make it nicer and strong.
By the use of foreign thoughts
English gains what it exalts.

Poems are delight to hearts.
Minds get from them gist and lights.
Help these songs to spread around.
New thoughts in your tongue abound.

I love English as it takes
Foreign words and them it makes
Useful ways to express thought;
That's what makes it so much sought.

English was poor but now rich.
When compared, it has high pitch.
Richness comes from foreign lands.
So it towers where it stands.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DOCTOR  FAUSTUS
Doctor Faustus, l can feel what you passed through
to gain science and to know the latest view.
You sold your soul to the foe to give you what
can satiate your obsessed mind and eager heart.

When a man loves someone else the other should
give him something in return and not be rude.
Faustus, you gave all your life for science' sake.
Did that science relieve you from your bad ache?

Faustus, we are quite inside your horrid boat.
We give life for various aims on which we dote.
Then we wake up when the devil of your deal
comes to take the price of what has no appeal.

Faustus, we are, just like you, lost in a world
callous and has mindless thoughts for man's demand.
We get mad as Faustus did at his sad end,
pay the due but do not take what can amend.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MY  KINGDOM
My face is covered with blood mixed with dirt.
The man who loves will give without restraint.
Look at my face. You'll know what l go through
for all the people on the earth and you.

My love is endless. It began with tears
for those who suffer, with hearts full of fears.
I cured their children and restored their smile.
They can't bear it, a world so full of bile.

I share you all your pain. Look at my wounds.
I don't feel them, but hear your screaming sounds
that ask me to relieve your hearts' distress.
I know how much your acts need to redress.

I came not for a kingdom on this earth.
I have no swords, no men for mundane worth.
I came to build a kingdom in your heart
that conquers your flesh weakness and its plight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE NEW BORN BABE
They cheer and dance. Their baby's come to life.
The parents and grandparents smile and laugh.
They've brought the drinks and food to have great time.
It's not a wont. For them a babe has come.

"What are you, babe?" the father deeply thought.
"You are a man like me with hope and fright.
You'll face this life which for me is great doubt.
You'll fear its darkness and enjoy its light.

My child, you'll live the crazy strife l live.
You'll have to toil so hard just to survive.
You'll try to find a creed to plan your way,
and lots of strain will tire your weak clay."  

His wife called out, "Come and look at his face.
It's just like yours, so full of cheerful bliss.
His fingers are like mine," she looked and smiled.
"God keep him to us both. He's our child."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ABORTION  AGAIN !
Can mistakes be corrected by mistakes?
If yes, correct conception by forced birth.
What sort of fate you bring to that live cell
which is considered man in our world !

This little cell is now the start of man,
whose life is just a spark of little length.
Once started, he will come to his soon end,
but he can live a chance of building fame.

Can you appoint yourself in place of a judge
who ends a life that starts by complete chance?
What if this little cell is your dear friend,
or your own father who gave you your life?

He might be Spenser or one of those men
who wrote their names in gold of greatest worth.
Who has the right to smother those great flames
and send them dead before they see the earth?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

AN UGLY GIRL

I am a human being my dear
And have same feelings like all girls.
Don't look at me to taunt and jeer
As l'm not svelte with lovely curls.

I dream of beauty and shed tears
Since l can't draw the eyes to me.
My heart is crammed with hateful fears
That no one would my plain face see.

What can l do with such a heart,
Full of emotions and and great zest
While l lack what gives girls their might?
A senseless heart would be the best.

It's said that life is fair to all
And gives each what equals their strain.
Life has neglected my heart's call
That l would drudge just to obtain.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THUS I'M ASKED TO PRAY.
You want to pray, go in your room
and close your door to be with Whom
your mind and heart trust and adore
and you both love to sit alone.

You get so glad as you can feel
your heart will be with that great Lord,
Who's made all people dear to Him
and He exists in every soul.

You speak with Him, which is your bliss
as what He says is complete charm.
His calming words give you great cheer
that makes you live your care free life.

Your prayer gets your mighty wings
that lift you up to touch the clouds.
You feel how great it is to pray
but urging duties stop that glee.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
__________

FAITH AND FAME

Be careful man of tricky fame;
Its danger can destroy your aim.
Its peril may be more than gold,
That can block your path to the Lord.

Fame can be blindfold to the eyes;
It shows high posts but hides the skies.
It swindles man to go astray
And forget his Lord and right way.

What are you fame but sin disguised.
You join hand with most fearful pride.
You lead the pious to leave God,
And worship his own pride instead.

So guileful you are and so soft.
You dethrone faith to reach your loft,
And drive a man to change his way
To satiate pride with grand array.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  SWEET  SERFDOM
I sit beside you and forget the world,
and find myself on wings that take me high
to glide with clouds so white, so chaste and pure
that only dreamworlds such a sense ensure.

Your hands have smoothness that tickles my heart
and gives it female warmth that once it starts,
I can't detach my heart that gets your own
as what your warmth creates is magic crammed.

Your words are said with such a female tune
that stirs the feelings l'm so fond to live.
They give the rapture  of a farfetched song
that begets love and forces it to yield.

Your softness is not just what women have.
It is so touching that my heart can't skip.
Once felt, it shackles me with magic chains
whose serfdom is much sweeter than free will.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

THE CONCEALED MIRTH

We hear that God loves man so much.
That's why He gives him life on earth.
But pain and grief that poor man clutch.
Where is that love? Where is the mirth?

If life is a struggle from the start
and worry makes it hard to live,
the mirth in it will fall apart,
and death destroys what mirth can give.

That's not the case if we think deep
and deem the life of a tranquil soul.
Through his soul, man great pleasure can reap
and get the joy he will extol.

A man can live the greatest joy
when he explores the depth of faith,
the pure joy that none can alloy
and that starts man's bliss from this earth.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A DUTY OR ENJOYMENT?

Are prayers interesting to say,
Or just a duty we can't shun?
Do they to heaven pave the way,
Or acts through which pleasure is won?

Are they mere visits to the Lord,
Who can decide a lot of things?
We visit Him for His reward
And to avoid the plagues He brings.

To write is not an act we like,
But ask a poet,"is it so?"
For him to indite is the peak
Of pleasure where he likes to go.

Why don't we pray just as we write,
And live with those most lovely Ones?
Then we spend sweet time in God's sight,
And no one such a visit shuns.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

CONSCIENCE  CALL

Conscience call, you are the voice of God,
That in hearts of men, you shout so loud
And tell us when little men we hurt
As we destroy dreams that hearts assert.

She walked long ways searching for jasmine
And was glad she could a bunch obtain
When he crossed her way and just for fun
He threw her bunch in the stream and ran.

Nothing she could do but looking up
At the sky, where all the weak get hope,
And went with a tear inside her eye.
She did not retort, but just asked why.

Life on earth has its own secret ways
As God always in the conscience stays.
He speaks with us and makes us repent,
And the wrong that we have done lament.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ARE YOU A POET ?
Poet, you encourage war .
I wonder how you can do !
Do you know that your pen pours
gasoline on burning coal .

How can you send your sons there
to throw themselves in that fire ?
Why don't you go there yourself ?
Is that hell hot to endure ?

Poet, how can you admire
fire that consumes the flesh ?
Fire is made to feed sons
not to throw them out of reach.

Embers that your sons can't hold
burn their hands while yours are cool .
You behold the woes they feel
to uplift your selfish mood.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  ONLY  REMEDY

Old age with broken leg, she lies in bed.
She cannot move; her pain is mixed with dread.
She is too weak to speak. She just complains,
but no one can her nagging quite explains.

Her bed has got a prison she can't leave;
it stirs her mind to roam, her heart to grieve.
No source as vent for hope from which to get
delight that makes her anxious thoughts forget.

So nice was life when those she loved were near,
whose presence brought her joy as they were dear.
They went and left her lonely, now in bed.
How hard is life that leads her to this end?

In tears, she hears a song coming from far.
She used to hear ere time could her life mar.
She calls back that old love that fills her heart
and sets her calm as love sets all aright.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

SHE  IS  STILL  WITH  THEM.
She was great succour, and she saved her kids
from dangers that none saves but their mum's hands.
She went and left them faced by kinds of threats,
none rescues from except the acts of saints.

She left afar and dwelt in her dark grave,
the cave of no return that scares the brave.
She was so needed in her little house
as her kids' kinship was hinged on her voice.

Ere she had left, she prayed to Jesus' mum
to keep them safe, with mum's soul around them.
The Mother of mankind said, "You and l
will make your house a part of our sky."

The soul of man will stay alive for good.
It lives eternal life where that soul would.
It seeks for those whom it has loved the most
and intercedes for them to Jesus Christ.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

TOO SOON TO FORGET

Years of life, how fast you pass.
Man won't forget parents when they're old perhaps
as he still remembers yesterday
When young and his parents were his light and ray.

Time goes fast to help man think when young
he was weak in all, his strength and tongue.
Their unequalled hand was so great then;
time flies fast to help man it to ken.

Now, they're old and need him as he did
Yesterday, when tears drenched his eyelid.
They are still so great; his fresh mind can recall,
and returns their work when he was small.

Time went fast and did not leave a space
which endows to forget a wee chance.
His succour occurs with such a heart
as he still recall that glorious past.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

SPEEDING TO THE FULL STOP

She went to school so nicely dressed, schoolbag in hand.
Her mother blessed her little head, adjusting her school band.
She is the hope of mother and her home.
They see in her the pledge that life will bloom.

Days turn and in a wink she is a mum.
She sends her child to school and waits for her to come.
Her child in turn becomes her life and hope,
and days go on while we are drunk with dope.

What is the reason for all that great fuss?
Life goes on while we are in lightspeed bus.
We are so happy and we live with hope
while days go on just having one full stop.

The sun is born with glorious shine,
and each man says, " Today is mine."
All of a sudden it folds up in past,
and life goes by; no days or hope will last.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

ARE THEY EQUAL?
One carries on his aching back
a heavy tree trunk of great weight
approaching that unfathomed depth.
He needs two steps to bridge that fall.

But these two steps will send him down
where no one can see him again.
Without being safe, he builds that bridge;
he does not reach the other edge.

But that rich side is where hope lives
and all the people thank that man.
He's lived and died with that sweet dream.
The others relish what he's done.

Some take those steps and sacrifice
themselves not looking down but forth.
How can some people live to give
while others shamelessly receive?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

THE MOUNTAIN AND THE VALE
Between the mountain lofty top and that low vale,
I wander beside them to have a look at both.
The mountain lacks the fruits the vale can always have
while both attract my eyes to see the greater worth.

Both have been there since Adam's time but he has gone
and lots like him have traced his way while both exist.
I look with eager eyes at that most glorious peak,
but fear of that hard climb can stop my feet.

It's hard to climb but when we reach the soaring point,
I find the vale so nice but not for dreaming hearts.
The daunted hearts prefer the vale and its sweet fruits
as craggy peaks demand stout heartedness and might.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

THE  CODDLED  CHILDREN
I am Your coddled child, my Lord.
You have a tender heart that loves the human kind.
On passion way, with cross on back, You told
the girls who cried,"Each cry for her own self
as each has such a life
so full of strife."
You cried for Your old friend, poor Lazarus
when someone told You of his loss
though You give life and can return
those who have gone.
You sympathize with man and feel for his long pain,
and You intend to cure his illness and ignore his sin.
Just on the cross, You said,
"Forgive them, my dear Dad.
They don't know what they did."
You love like that.
Why should l not depend on such a tender heart
and be a coddled child
asking the help of his most loving Dad?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

DON'T BUY, BUT LIVE.

What's really good for you is just to feel
The Lord's inside your heart and has appeal
To make you love Him much and love His ways
More than the alms to people you appraise.

It is an extreme ease to buy and sell,
But that can't be the case with bliss and hell.
God is inside your heart; just live with Him.
He is the source of bliss and happy realm.

When you feel that He is so kind and good.
Then certain you can be He is your God.
He is more tender than mothers on earth
And cries before you do when you're in dearth.

He is the Lord Who died on cross for you
And forgave all who tortured Him and drew.
No power did He use to solve His grief,
But through His painful death, He brought relief.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

STEERED BY HIS OWN WILL

They are a group of men on board a boat.
All are adrift except the one who steers.
They look at him and go the way he goes,
waiting his hands to find their chosen course.

He chooses his own way as it can suit his heart.
He might be wrong, but that's what his heart says:
that's what the throbs of his true heart would drum,
not what his whims impose on him to cull.

His fellow men on board the sailing boat
repose and wait for what their helmsman's hands will do.
They look with such pleased eyes at distant looming isles,
and can sunbathe on board with cheerful smiles.

He stands with active mind so crammed with care.
He barely sleeps or rests , and dreams awake,
exhausted, yes, but glad the boat will sail
where his hands steer and wish to move the wheel.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

HOW STRANGE MAN IS !

A man is beaten by his foe.
He causes his wife so much woe.
His wife reacts on her young child.
In turn, the child beats his cat hard.

In life, we always act like that.
We often from hard problems ****.
We just waste time on what we can,
And keep hard work out of the plan.

How can a writer close his eyes
And forget his soul and its skies ?
Is he like that who beats his wife
To shun his foe's most crucial strife ?

I wonder how man can escape
The strong foe and exchange his shape.
Can he convince his beaten mind
And swap with what on him assigned ?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE  REALITY  OF  MAN
Too weak is man, my Lord; he makes me at times cry.
He looks so well today and rebuffs my reply.
I get upset and think how haughty he can be.
Tomorrow, he is ill, and too weak him l see.

I get so sorry as l said what he opposed.
I'd love to meet again and see him well composed.
How much l'd love to hear his voice haughty again.
Then l know that he will to normal state return.

My Lord, You make poor man too frail and too fragile.
He tries to show himself so strong and so agile
to hide what he knows well that he is poor and weak
and all his shouts and shrieks are just to hide his wreck.

So poor is man when he can't prove his self respect
to those who live around and he should them protect.
He feels that his poor life is trifle in their eyes
and nothing can be done, but himself to despise.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MIND, SIN, AND THE DEVILS
They allure him into what will be
an obscene act that will seem so nice,
and don't show him how it will appear
till it is committed as a sin.

He's indulged in what they've shown to him
as a light so bright and full of taste.
His bedazzled eyes don't see the truth
which will appear when his act's been done.

Then he starts to blame himself so hard,
sorry for the dirt he's caused to her,
but no come back then can be restored
and that causes him the loss of joy.

Devils then will crowd around his mind.
He can see them laugh and giggle loud.
What he's caused her will make her so mean
as no home is made to save their world.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

TELEVISION  ANNOUNCERS

Tv. announcers, do you know
That when you tell something untrue,
You get drug dealers too hostile
To human minds and public soul?

You puff your sayings right and left.
Poor minded people get bereft.
Their souls get filthy by your lies
And turn benighted by your guise.

All that you know, but fame is dear.
It can buy hearts and conscience smear.
But woe to that who cheats the babes.
His conscience some day wakes and grabs.

Man has a chance in his life time
To build a name and light a flame.
Don't light your flame by telling lies.
That flame is not what man descries.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MAN AND DIRT

Man has greatest trend for a clean heart.
Dirt can make man bear some pain too smart.
But a lure to gain the world makes him
Tend to use wrong ways of ***** whim.

Man can't bear the dirt on his seen flesh.
Fast he moves to clean it and get fresh.
No one bears the sight of dirt and filth.
They deprive him of his mood of mirth.

Dirt of soul can cause more painful sense.
You can't clean it by a quick defence.
You need Lord of souls to wash you clean.
Only He can bring you back serene.

Hands are yours and can clean when you want;
Lord of souls you can't control his font.
His unseen work can't be always done.
We are weak and can't that weakness shun.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

A GRAVE VICE
Love of self, you are a vice.
You can cause a deadly sin
that l cry the rest of life
and l don't know how to clean.

You could sever me from those
who helped me and l adored.
Then l  threw them to regret
those moments that won't return.

Persons who gave me great help
I deserted as l thought
they did not respect my rights.
Now, l grieve those foolish acts.

Self esteem l hate your ghost,
haunting me for my past deeds.
If l go back to that time,
I love all and you won't heed.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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
____________

GOD AND MAN
A little child at age of two
has learnt to curse and curses you.
Would you beat him or cause him pain,
or would you laugh at his small brain?

How can that child arouse your ire
or make you angry and desire
to pour your anger on a kid
to cause him sorrow for his deed?

Imagine that you don't forgive
this little mind and on him drive
your greatest wrath to cause him pain.
In this case, who has the small brain?

You don't beat him, but just you smile
and laugh at his too childish style.
You kiss him and you make him know
your love, and then he won't curse you.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WORK AND HAPPINESS
Inner pleasure is so charming
but it leads to what's crestfallen.
Life outside us is quite lovely,
but its loss can always frighten.

Where are we from the solution?
One is endless but not blithesome
while the other is so brilliant,
but its end is like snake venom.

Life is great when work can fill it.
Man can find his joy in labour.
He will find an outside blitheness,
and his Lord will like his manner.

Milliards have arrived and parted
only few are highly honoured.
They've enjoyed their lovely voyage,
while on them their fame's been showered.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

THE LURE OF A NYMPH

Beside a forest was my house.
The forest was so large and dense.
It was at dusk; l heard a girl  
Singing a song my mind could hurl.
So sweet was her voice that she could
Take my mind out of this dull world.

It was a voice full of deep love
That my ears could my slow feet shove
Towards the forest and the source
Not caring for its spiky course.

When she saw me, she fast escaped,
And heavy fog her  figure draped.
I did not care and followed her;
The rugged way could not me deter.

The pursuit led to such a maze.
I found myself in helpless daze.
My way back home was fully lost,
And night had its full darkness tossed.

No voice of girls but of wild dogs
Was all around with snakes an frogs.
I was so scared and hoped to find
A way out of this horrid land.

My fear led me to shout and scream,
Which woke me up from that bad dream.
I looked around and was so pleased
When l found myself in my bed.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

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
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THE HEEDLESS BABIES

Little babe, you want to eat
unaware of your own state.
Do you know what doctors say
or you leave all to your fate?

You eat and don't care about
what may occur to your health.
All are worried; their eyes well
with sad tears for what may fall.

We are not in better case,
Lying in this world of risks
Unconscious of lurking threats
That await a suiting chance.

Who is worried about us?
We don't see, but He is near.
His eyes follow, full of tears
while we laugh outloud with cheers.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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NO  FEAR,  THEY  ARE  NEAR.
I see a child and meditate for long,
"What sort of days will life bring him along?"
Who knows what he will do and where his feet
will lead, and where his destiny he'll meet.

Will he compete for fame with men so great,
or will he fear to leave his building gate?
Will he become a bold man of great name
or will he be a coward with no aim?

I wonder if wide smiles will clothe his face
or if that face will wear a firm grimace.
Will he have luck that yields more than he needs?
Or he should drudge so hard to feed his kids.

I think for long, while he holds his mum's hand
and enjoys walking between mum and dad.
He toddles caring not for what may come
as long as he walks with his dad and mum.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE REAL BEGGAR

No brothers, sisters he has got.
He is a beggar of lone heart.
So much he needs a loving friend
Who by his side just tend  to stand.

His heart is broken for someone
Who says a good word or listen
To deep sighs that cosume his heart
But still no one would care for that.

He needs a person  who tells him
He is a man whose luck is grim.
He is like us with heart that feels
And his lost tear deep thoughts conceals.

How much he needs a touch of love,
A sweet word that a girl would give
To make his sad heart chant a song
Ere death rings farewell on its gong.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TRUE LOVE HAD CHARM.
The place was far from town and men,
green land where l expected deer
to live and so l hurried there,
but my good luck joined me with her.

I approached slowly as l knew
my human deer was pure and wild,
but with no noise and from behind
she found me there, catching her hand.

She felt my touch was not for lust,
but just a touch of purest love.
She caught my hand and then we walked
to where her parents pitched their tent.

When they conceived what l announced,
they blessed the step we both would take.
True love had charm that opened eyes
to bless the gold rings we would wear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MEN  AND  BEASTS

He wished a place where life was still
And silence spread on nearby hill.
Nothing was heard except the stream
Whose water rushed, calling to dream.

He pitched his tent on the green bank
Where trills of birds forbade to think,
And heard with nature calmness tune
Away from bombs and horrid groan.

The birds of sky did flee from men
Their rifles and bombs hoped to shun.
Not only birds but men themselves
Had got fed up with blood and knives.

Men left their hit homes and their streets
And in calm nature pitched their tents.
They fled from men to live with beasts
Which blood-shed for them was not feasts.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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