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
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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
____________

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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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
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WHAT IS THE REASON?

Men of various colours come and go.
Wherefrom, whereto,who can ever know?
Tourists passing through a foreign land
With a sojourn no one can expand.

Why do parents bring offsprings to earth?
Is it love of kids to give them birth?
It's a question that needs lots of thoughts
None can answer ere his body rots.

For my little mind, the Logos plays
Roles that fill this world with sense and rays.
We aren't cows that crawl to their sharp knives,
Forced by sticks  to live and end their lives.

God has endless talents which  He used,
Through the Logus, Whose great work transfused
Empty space to fill the endless sky,
And created life, and birds that fly.

Then He formed  His man with talents which
Could make him a master wise and rich.
Logos made a logos to give life:
Is that not a reason quite enough?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

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

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
____________

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
____________

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
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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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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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DIVORCE

Those who God joins none severs.
This is what the Lord refers
To in His most holy tome
When man and his wife share home.

Birds of heaven build one nest
Where they breed and where they rest.
They can't live outside this place.
It's the source of their lives' peace.

Even when those birds migrate,
***** and hens' love won't abate.
On each other they rely
When they breed and when they fly.

Who can mate and then depart
If he has a human heart?
When two join their hearts in one
Each gets his mate's moon and sun.

This is what my heart tells me,
And what Jesus likes to see.
He makes man and knows his heart;
Once he's married, he can't part.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH  
____________

EACH IN TURN

All my heart is with those who are sad,
Swallowing their tears with their own bread.
Like red hot nails pierce me their sad sighs
Though they're not nigh my sad, downcast eyes.

I extend my weak hand for their needs,
but my hand is short, and weak my deeds.
I can't compensate what fate has marred
as l am by weakness fully barred.

We are throngs of men, each one in turn
sheds his tears for what we can't return.
Time goes fast and we can't do a thing,
save those tears when that sad toll will ring.

Why don't we extend the hand of help,
dry the tears of those who need that step?
Our eyes will weep and need that hand,
which all creatures wait for to expand.

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
____________

I WAIT FOR A VISIT .

My Lord, what more attracts my eyes
Than your light which shines through the skies
That shows how serene is my Lord
Who is so clear and pure like gold ?

I look up and behold that light
Which gives me courage from Your might.
I need this strength to feel so bold
And then l love more my dear Lord.

On earth, we love who are near us
And come to visit our house.
I visit You every Sunday ;
Why don't you visit me one day?

How can a person filled with fear
Be glad to see Who scares him near ?
He loves to see and spend his time
With That Who makes him feel so calm.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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
____________

BORING  PEOPLE

What can one do in a boring crowd?
Those around him of true sense are void,
And their accent is of haughty mind.
He feels lost and comfort does not find.

He exploits the power inside him
To impose a smile wide but dim.
It makes matters worse to those who see,
And he seeks a chance just to get free.

Where have birds of feather flocked and flown?
Those who are around are quite unknown,
Not in person but the way they think
That can drive him to sheer madness brink.

He fills all his face with empty smiles,
Longing to be far a thousand miles
As he hates to see the others hurt
While his nerves he can no more exert.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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
_____________

THE BIRD'S CAGE AND MINE

Your home is nature not this cage,
Poor little bird, l feel your rage.
Your song is not to call your mate
But just to cry your gloomy fate.

Poor little bird, you're not alone,
But lots of weak men share your tone.
To speak they must be with the throng
Or people will not mind their tongue.

They can speak when they say what men
Want them to say, not what they ken.
They must say what men want to hear
Or their words will not reach their ear.

My bird, l want to speak with you;
I suffer as much as you do.
Your cage is your jail where you stay,
But mine is what l have to say.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE GAP

The gap is wide and none can bridge
Between pure love and hateful grudge,
Between who love to beatify
And those who live just to decry.

Some live to see the smile spread
On lips of beauty with cheeks red,
While others want those lips to ail
And make cheeks' redness seared and pale.

Some love the rose on branch to live,
To give its charm and love receive,
While others break the branch and go
And cause the flower greatest woe.

Some speak with smile on their cute face
That heartens you to start discourse,
But others say just one rude word
That makes you hate them and the world.

My Lord, Your creatures are like verse,
Some to adore and some to curse.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

MY REAL WORTH

I am so glad that my own worth
Is not up to some people's dearth.
They would deny all that l have
And rank me well below a knave.

My worth is up to who love me
As they would like my best to see.
If upset, l know my bad state;
If glad, l know my state is great.

My worth is how l see myself.
Is my heart clean or with dirt rife?
People around can't see inside
As that l only can decide.

But best of all's to look at you,
And see how you my face will view
As your soft eyes instil my states:
A look from them my love creates.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

AN ANGEL SERVES A SAINT.

None can wipe off what your hand has done.
It's depicted near the flaming sun
By the Lord Who dwells in His high skies;
None dare look at it with human's eyes.

Your acts are towards a mother dear.
You don't want another to come near.
All the time yours replace her old hand
And no one but you she would demand.

You have been in such a post for long.
Words from you sound like her sweetest song.
You are locked beside her for long years.
Just an angel lives such life with cheers.

Mum and daughter you have been for long.
She sang lullabies when you were young.
Songs of yours have been so sweet to her;
Dreams of past days in both hearts they stir.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHAT'S THE SECRET OF THE CHANGE?
The apostles were afraid
and escaped from place to place.
After resurrection, they
did not care about their death.

What could make them bold and willed
to defy abuse and pain,
with no wish to shun an end
passed through boiling oil or worse?

They beheld in Christ the might
that could make their world so cheap
when compared with what He'd done
that submerged their hearts with mirth.

Kinds of mirth equal to joy,
seen in heaven, rare in sorts,
like resurrection which man
never witnessed in the world.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

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
____________

A LITTLE WHITE KITTEN

Your blue eyes, my little cat,
And your nose of little spot,
With your small mouth and soft mew
My fond heart and eyes draw.

Cute and small but value grand,
Boll of cotton on my hand,
With a tail of purest white,
You fill me with great delight.

That red ribbon on your neck
Matches your fur of white flake.
Beauty on a beauty charms
My heart, my eyes, and my arms.

How much l would you embrace;
My heart is your right place,
But l fear my so fond hand
Harm to cause to white and red.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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
____________

THE SUPERMAN

The superman is that who can
Stand with the feeble in their pain.
He can't bear meeting broken hearts
too shattered to stand by themselves.

He can't see eyes with tears inside,
mainly those eyes that tears have hurt,
or eyes that in vain try to hide
their tears but redness shows their pain.

He stands with those that life has harmed
while they can't cope to hide disgrace.
They do their best, but their short arms  
Can't hide what harshness has misplaced.

The superman will never care
where his support will ever lead.
He sees his heart is quite involved
in drying tears and planting cheers.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

ENTREATY

I'm a child whose toy has a defect.
All the time, l feel sad and abject.
My dear Dad, can't You bring back my smile,
And mend what makes my blood tend to rile?

Dad, You are my sole hope Who can give
What l wait from Your hand to receive.
I'm too frail; l can't mend what is wrong.
I depend on Your hand which is strong.

I just sit in my cradle and weep.
No one cares for my tears that cut deep.
They tell me to cheer up and be glad.
How can l? My dear toy looks so sad.

My dear Dad, please feel what l go through.
All my hope is quite centered on You.
I can't smile and my toy is like that.
Please my Dad, bring joy back to my heart.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MY PHILOSOPHER AND GOD

There came a Man among the men.
He had no house; He had no den.
He had no palace and no wealth,
but he was well known for His strength.

He had great power of the soul
that could the blind and dead men heal.
He made new eyes, and gave new breath,
the Maker Who could raise from death.
But what can stun me to the heart
is His mind and His deep insight.

He told me what my nerves can cool,
my heart  and mind can make tranquil,
my conscience keep without remorse
that kills my joy or even worse.

His teachings fill my heart with joy,
and make me earthly life enjoy.
The greatest is the least of you;
Who said so with Him l will go.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHY DO WE HAVE A MIND ?

Sad poems, you are not my realm
As tears the globe quite overwhelm.
No hope can come through tears and sighs;
They flood the earth and gloom the skies.

I am in search of hopeful lines.
Perhaps with them my shy hope shines
And leads to what my heart looks for
So my soul sails to reach that shore.

We look for trifles when we write
And serious aims we don't indite.
What is the gain if we win all
But have no thoughts for final goal ?

This life must have a final aim;
No death can end its endless game
As mind is placed not for concern
But helping man this fact to learn.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

MANAGE  WITHOUT!

He is lonely with none in his hand,
For his daily needs and food demand,
Yet he deems himself a man of thought
Though no coins to publish what he wrote.

Still he sticks to honour and its cost.
He would like to guide though he is lost.
What he wants from life is just some love,
For the trust in self and just a shove.

Where is love if coins do not support?
Life itself will **** it and abort.
Love costs quiet a lot to live and grow;
It can't live on thoughts to get aglow.

Man of thought, you've lived deprived of fun,
Spent your time in gloom, no light of sun.
Can't you manage short of love to live
If you want to keep your thoughts alive?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

COINED FOR CHRIST
I've asked myself,"How was the word 'God' coined?"
I've found that "G" is for the nice word "good".
Indeed, God is the source of what is chaste
as seen in our Lord, pure Jesus Christ.

And "O" is for His "omnipresent" soul
that fills the world and exists in us all.
He sets Himself on earth, in space, and skies,
and exists in all hearts and saintly eyes.

And "D" is for the "deeds" that show His truth
as what He says is true without an oath.
He said He came to die. He came and died
and three days later rose as prophesied.

So fit's the word we use for Him as shown
and suits His deeds and painful crown of thorn.
It had been coined long time before He came,
but seemed as if it had been coined for Him.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE DEAR TO ME

My heart is broken for those dear
Who are too weak and kind to bear
The harshness they meet in this life
From disdain to scorn and great grief.

They are looked on as senseless men.
They respect all but looked down on.
All men try to rob them their right
While they look with accepting sight.

My life will have the deepest sense
If l stand at their side of fence.
To show them that the fear of loss
Is harder than the pain of cross.

My Lord came here and cared for them
And mounted His cross to redeem
What was left of their self trust
And rise with them pressed to His chest.

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 BROKEN HEART
He could not be any pride
of his father who worked hard
just to see him in a post
of which he could talk and boast.

He was humble; he was meek.
He was too shy just to speak.
That made his dad lose all hope
and off his mind he would drop.

I met him; he got my mind.
Such a heart l could not find.
He lived for love and for peace
and to shun his dad's grimace.

Man is feelings; man is heart
though he is not always smart.
Don't break hearts and feelings wound;
though not bright, his tears are sound.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

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
____________

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
____________

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
____________

REAL FRIENDSHIP

Friendship is a star that guides
Caravans with precious trades.
It moves through the sky with them
As with Magians it did roam.

Hard their way, but that star pleads
Brother moon, whose round face leads,
Skies of night not to be dark,
Stars to twinkle ways to mark.

Friends may come from far and near,
But Aleppo gives those dear,
Who get quickly into heart
Filling it with snug delight.

Friends give deep sighs of relief
That fills sad hearts with new life,
Which makes them to larks all ears,
And builds new life full of cheers.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEN

THE SOUL AND FLESH
The truth exists between the earth and what is seen
up high in endless skies where blue space is serene.
The soil of mud appeals to what man's stained hand feels
While his eyes roams up high to see a white cloud reels.

The mud can build a house which can be fit and nice
for us to live and rest and spend good time in peace.
It's also great to lie under the summer sky
and look at the bright moon and shooting stars espy.

The mud supports the trees that feed mankind and bees
and grows the wheat and grass that man and beasts can please.
The sky can feed the heart, and brings the soul delight
as stomachs are not all; morale can trust ignite.

We refuge to you both to get the needed growth
that God has built in us to live and find the truth
which is the two are one and both have made the Son
Whose pain has made the mud award the soul its crown.
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
____________

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
____________

THE SPLENDID VOICE

I am so lonely and so far
With passion that my heart will char.
I feel deserted and my heart
Is yearning for what's out of sight.

I want a voice from far to call
And say to me here is your goal.
I love you, but l won't get near.
From far away your heart l cheer.

Here is the voice that you ask for,
The voice you wait for and adore.
Though you know that we'll never meet,
This voice will make your joy complete.

This voice will lift you into space
And there with angels you will race.
You'll hope to stay far from your earth
To be with my voice and its mirth.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

LET'S JOIN HANDS.

People of a hateful grudge
are beheld through one we call a drudge
who has gained no outcome of avail.
That makes him so full of loudest wail.

They hate the people who can have
success in life and be so calm and suave.
They know how they can get respect from all
as they have set and reached a precious goal.

Most of us are not from either class.
Let's join hands; we may pass
gates of grudge and go straight to success.
By joined hands, we may reach God's great bliss.

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
____________

THE  POET

If we do like it or we don't,
A man is stature not his thought.
They respect that man for his coin
And treat a poet as a clown.

A poet walks thinking himself
A man whose knowledge fills a shelf
With books, none but him is so fond,
But others don't lift from the ground.

Woe to the kind man whom he sites
To hear the poems he recites.
He spends most boring times with yawns;
His reader dreams of laurel crowns.

His wealth for him is not what counts;
His wife and kids live on dump mounts.
He saunters like a proud peacock
While people see him like a joke.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

FLATTERY
What can flattery be but kind words full of vice
When you don't mean the words that appear sweet and nice?
You will be like a snake full of fatal contents,
but you dress your outlook with the smoothest outfits.

Your inside is a bog that boils with horrid blobs,
but you dress them with what would look like showy robes.
None can see in that mire that appears calm to all
fearful death dragging man to the depth of deep hell.

The harsh truth comes and goes like the gas of a drink.
It can cause fizzing sound, and for eyes a quick blink,
but you drink a cool gulp that saves you from the heat
as the truth saves you from deadly stab in the heart.

Fearful snakes, horrid mires lurk in words, but who knows
what you hide in your heart of sure death or deep ooze.
With soft voice, a low hiss, you make ears skip your threat
to bring man fearful death after most hedious fate.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

CHRISTMAS
God's children needed help from their great Lord.
You left Your heights and came down as a Child.
The Child reassured all the hearts of men
that He would bring His love the world to reign.
You took man's form and followed his own style
to show that man to You is so worthwhile.

The people yearned  to know what was that Lord
Who can do all and build the sky and world.
You showed them that He is sheerly a born child
Who loved man much, and him He glorified.

How modest You were when You left Your skies
and showed us God in that young Baby's eyes,
assuring man that his Lord is a fact,
and dwells in all the world and in man's heart.
I beg You, Lord, for rebirth in the hearts
to touch the faith, and kindle our lights.
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
___________

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
____________