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

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
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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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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
____________

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
____________

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
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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
____________

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
____________

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
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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
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WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
What have you done on that long trip which you have made?
You have worked hard, but all has left nothing in hand.
Your mind stands as a judge to ask what you have done.
What will your answer be? Is it, "l have done none"?

But you have worked so hard. What has your work led to?
You've helped a lot to be on better land than you.
Is that a good reply that can satiate your mind?
If yes, l think you have a mind too small and void.

You sit with those who speak about their work and wealth.
Are they of better skills that they could prove their strength?
Or you suppose they are what you cannot approve.
Say that to your own mind. Will it your words conceive?

You've drudged; that's great to hear, but now you do not cheer.
Did you give Caesar what to Caesar should adhere?
Thank God, your soul is clear, but is your mind clear too?
Your mind is shouting loud; calm down its loud ado.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE   SUN
I know you are in such a splendid atmosphere.
You float in your high skies; your course is high and clear.
You are the sun of your unending and wide space.
The planets and the moons follow your imposed brace.

You see breathtaking views, but they don't ever change.
They are so lovely and without stint or short range.
You see the earth, the moons and what they have to do
that always seem the same for them, for me and you.

Your life is just the same routine of daily life
that even has no days, just same repeated stuff.
Don't you feel bored or need a sense of deep, shared love,
or are you just a rock, thrown just to shine and rove?

"Whatevet l can be, l give you warmth and light.
I love to give them both; they give you great delight.
I care about what l can give and not receive.
That's what makes me the sun. My love is just to give."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A  PRAYER
You know me better than l know
my deepest thoughts and what l feel.
I feel too weak and stretch my arms
to beg your eyes to see my fears.

I am a man and have a heart
that has some wishes to achieve.
I pass from failure to mean state
and hide my eyes from who demean.

I beg you and look up and pray
I need your grace that gives me faith.
It can uplift my heart to feel
that my wounds are not wasted pain.

My hunger is so hard to bear.
I beg you to blend it with hope
that makes me able to endure
and not fall down as the weak drop.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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GREEN  WITH  ENVY

I entwined my hand with hers,
strolled among the blooming flowers.
We sat on the grass to see
if the flowers could give glee.

I looked at her eyes and left
the hues that the petals got,
lived in peace inside her eyes,
leaving those fields and their skies.

I pressed her hand for a kiss;
I smelt odour of great bliss.
I ignored the jasmine's smell,
and on her hand l would dwell.

Then the flowers got so piqued.
They began to wane and wilt.
I eavesdropped a bee that nagged,
"Beauty can't defeat withstand."

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHAT IS TRUE LOVE?
What is true love?
It is the feelings that exist towards someone.
You give that person all your life.
You reach a state in which you lose
your value and all men's respect,
but you don't care.
You find yourself hung on the cross,
and people gather just to laugh and gloat
while you are quite rejected there
to suffer and to bear your pain,
and see a man who has no ken
go by and look with great disdain,
but you don't care as you can find
that all your pleasure is to give,
and give much more
to make the person whom you love
attain the state of being saved and called
"A redeemed one".
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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BETWEEN DESPAIR AND JOY
I've lived the feeling of despair,
but is it bliss or it brings hell?
Despair can sometimes tell the truth.
The world has none of what is ruth.

When we know that; we doubt the world
with its importance and look in,
asking the soul for some support,
and trusting what has none to end.

We choose the Lord to make us bold
and help us see what will extend
to endless life when hair won't dare
to tell us it will change its shade.

The Lord will be the guide of all
and show us what will make us soar
through space that has nothing to bound,
exactly like our joyful souls.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
__________

NO ONE IS ALREADY THAT MR WONDERFUL.

We write a poem and we think
That everyone should appreciate
As l write it and who can be
Such great a writer just like me?

Perhaps you are, but let me know
The meanings you say and employ
By telling me through your clear words
What you may mean by such great work.

When l cognize all that you mean,
I may appreciate what you say
Because your work has taken time,
And you are not a common man.

When you write clearly and l ken
What you want through your piece to mean,
I may like your work; then you get
That Mr wonderful you've meant.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHERE  IS  HEAVEN ?

Grudge, how awful you become
when you make a heart your home.
You the throne of God destroy,
source of love and greatest joy.

God makes man's heart His own throne,
where his love is fully grown,
building heaven from the flesh,
which becomes love's holy creche.

Heaven dwells inside my heart,
and endows me greatest height.
Love is kept in secure place
where the Child can lie in peace.

Highest skies, you are just void.
Heaven can't be in that world.
Heaven's where whom l adore
nestles in the depth of core.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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
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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
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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
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SAINT JOHN THE DAMASCENE

John Damascene, great eastern saint,
Your hand was cut for wrongs undone.
You took your hand; near Mary knelt.
The icon could your hand regain.

They cleared you from the wrongs, supposed
That had been done, and pardon asked,
But you refused your post restored
And as a hermit your life spent.

You wrote a praise for Mother saint
That still enchants us till these days.
That miracle can us acquaint
How God can always show His rays.

Saint John, how much l envy you:
A miracle restored your hand,
And you God's work with your eyes view.
How happy your life was on land.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WE'RE AWAITING CHRISTMAS.
Greatest hope to mankind will occur
in that cave faraway from the rich.
He's the king of all kings and He'll start
His own life in a cave shepherds have.

He conceives that His task is so hard.
They will end His short life on a cross,
and the start will be poor with no cash,
but He's pleased; His soul lives to no end.

He'll tell man nothing can spoil the glee;
a poor life, a harsh end won't bring fear
as man knows that his soul has no end
in a place full of calmness and peace.

Come, my Lord, show us that one is glad
as his joy overflows from inside
where no worms can destroy what he feels
which is wrought by Your hand of high mace.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

THE LOVING DUCK

A duck was walking in the street
With little ducklings near its feet.
A duckling fell inside a drain;
The cover could fat mum detain.

It waited out quacking for help.
Some people came to grant that step.
It waited long till duckling came
And joined again the anxious mum.

I wonder if men are like ducks:
They fill the land with loudest quacks
For ***, the source of chicks, their love
The same with hens, a bird and dove.

Wise men and women practice ***
In ways artistic and complex,
But they use pills new life to ****,
In urgent flaws abortion skill.

If that poor child is among us,
How long do we stay in the house?
I wish that duck will make us think
That life is not mere *** and drink.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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LIFE IS MERE LUCK.
He walked along the moor to soothe his mind
and think about the sense of life on Earth.
He saw a girl; she ran away from him
as she was scared of kin who sought her trace
to take her to a house she loathed to see.

Her charm was really rare that he could not
let her escape as that would bring him woe
for being lazy bones when he could act.

He stopped her and they sat; they talked for long.
He found some traits in her that he looked for.
His love was clear and shone in his fond eyes.
It was contageous to her hungry soul.

He was so pleased she was fit as a wife,
and she was glad to meet the man she wished.
They went to where they called their cosy house,
convinced that life was just a lucky chance.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE PRECIOUS DAWN
I'm glad that life at last began to smile
as all the time it went against my will.
Then it sent me a spark to paint my thoughts
in verse and have my fame the world to fill.

I got so pleased my life was not in vain
and fame began to gleam and give me hope.
I worked so hard ; l was so pleased l found
what gave my soul a dawn to clear my scope.

The fields and sights were there, but it was dark.
The spark could light the fields by shining dawn.
At last, l knew that joy was always there,
but waiting for the spark to make it known.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

TWO  ANGELS
When young, we played sweet doll-house,
in which kids would selves espouse.
I chose Suzan as my girl
as her hair had a nice curl.

It was such a lovely game.
lnstinct made us man and dame.
We were white at heart and pure,
but this game could us allure.

This game could stir us so much,
but l did not her hand touch.
I looked at her curl and eyes,
yet l could my love disguise.

Clean hearts joined us as pure kids,
who shunned what the Lord forbids,
but were so glad, on cloud nine,
two angels of love divine.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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
____________

THE  VICEROY
What are you, man, but greatest work of art
in which the Lord has placed a mind to act?
He makes you master of His new-made world
and gives you choice to know the good and bad.

You chose to know, and ate from that fruit tree
to share the artist in what He can see.
As you got all that wit and wisdom gained,
God wants you to observe what's good and bad.

What's good is just to love what God has made,
to give them joy and all the needed aid.
God wants His art to enjoy peace on earth
and asks you, supreme art, to help its growth.

He asks you, viceroy, to love and be kind
and make them all in their best ways arrayed.
The other creatures don't know good and bad,
but you are wise and master of this world.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

OR LET'S COVER OUR EYES ?
What will the world replace if it strips man of life?
Whatever it gives him for him it's not enough.
If there is after life, he will not care what death
will do with his poor flesh as his soul will survive.

Is that an easy case for man to solve through mind
or faith can shore him up to make him trust , but blind?
I wonder how man can neglect this crucial view
and think of birds and trees when writing verse and prose.

Are they a good escape that covers his own eyes
and makes him live a dream to overlook that plight?
He covers his scared eyes but knows that death lurks there.
Nothing can drive death out; let us it quite forget.

Where are you from all that? Could you give me your point?
The bugbear is quite near; how can we dance and cheer?
Let us be sure what death can bring to the man kind.
Is it the start of glee, or the end of a man's world?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

GOD AND MAN

The Lord lives inside man's deep heart
To grant man peace and clear his sight
As He knows what man meets on earth
From doubt to needs and fear of death.

Man is none but a toddling child,
In profound space rotates his world.
His eyes with wonder always try
To fathom his earth and his sky.

He does his best in all his quest
And does all that with fervent zest,
But fearful foes lurk in his way
To expose him to full decay.

He finds himself a paltry spot
Thrown in a space where his earth's shot
With lots of doubt and fear of end,
He sets out to all comprehend.

God sees all that and pities him
As He puts him in that odd realm.
The Lord of mercy cannot leave
His toddler with no help and love.

God lives in his heart, holds his hand,
And when he falls, He helps to stand;
He can't leave him in such hard dearth
Without support with all His strength.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL COPYRIGHTS RESERVED

LOVE FROM ABOVE
The mother cleans her child while he cries loud.
He thinks she is too rough and awfully bad.
He does not know her act is kind and good,
but deems she is too cruel and always rude.

She gives him medicines of awful faste.
He screams to accuse her of being a beast.
He would like to grow up to have revenge
on that cruel woman who stirs all his rage.

She does not care but does what should be done
to her most babied but quite thoughtless son.
Her duties are not easy and they need
a lot of efforts with no gratitude.

My Lord, You loved a lot and bore your cross,
but that led you to sadness and great loss.
Despite all that, You forgave who killed You,
and said, "Forgive; they don't know what they do."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THIS IS HOW WE SHOW OUR LOVE.

The baby's in the cradle; far is mum.
He wakes up frightened and he starts to scream.
He blubbers to his mum to carry him.
This is the way in which he shows his love.

She comes and lifts him up and hugs on chest.
He feels so calm, and she feels glad and blessed.
He coos, he babbles, and he prattles best.
This is what he does when he shows his love.

There is no need to cry; his mum is nigh.
The world for him is safe; why should he sigh?
So glad, he lifts his hand and scratches her an eye.
No wonder, this is what he does to show his love.

My Lord, we feel so frightened and we plead.
We carol and sing hymns and offer a good deed.
We may at times imply a spiteful word,
but still we are that child who shows his love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE GREATEST MAN EVER
Jesus, You combine two natures,
one of man and one so mighty.
You created man and oceans,
and You lived a normal human.

Who can tell me if a person
can ever mention a great man
who has been greater than Jesus
though He lived a third of man's life?

Who could raise the dead and He rise,
cure the blind and forgive His foes?
Who could admit men to heaven
as He said to that on His right?

Forgiveness and not rules of force
was His laws and all His teachings.
Who could love His foes and let them
**** Him, but He, Christ Who loves all?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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STILL WAITING FOR SOMETHING
An old man by the street, weak and forlorn.
He has nothing to do; he looks and yearns
to find a little sense of what he does:
he leaves the garden bench where nights are spent,
and goes to that street side to spend his days.

He is too old to do the work he did
ere years could carry him to his old sge.
He looks at faces as by chance he sees
a face that he might know and might give ease
or could remind him of his dear, past years.

Where are the glorious days he has dreamed of?
They have postponed their advent day by day.
His eyes have got so dim; his strength has dropped,
but he's still waiting for those days to come
to lift his heart and find good sense to life.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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GIVE ME A SIGNAL, LORD.

No length of time on earth to lose
Without an aim that cools the heart.
Life is too short; use all the clues
To find life gist ere you depart.

Life is a chance to find your peace
When you a mighty goal achieve.
Then fear of time you will erase
As you the pith of life conceive.

Your peace may come from works of art
That leave on earth a glorious fame
Which keeps you glowing as a fact,
And your torch shines as brilliant flame.

The greatest gift is just to know
And get of second life so sure.
Can we  gain it through what we do
Or through what God on us confer?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

THE SUBLIME FIGHTER

How dare you, weak bird, such a cat resist
When it attacks your chicks and your small nest ?
You know that your defence will have no hope,
Yet you defend your chicks till dead you drop.

The birds around just look at you and laugh
As your fight with this cat is mad not safe,
And wonder how you can fight such a foe ;
You should be out of mind such act to do.

The bird falls dead and her chicks are devoured ;
The cat leaves with the nest void and destroyed.
The watching birds approach to cast a look
At that dead bird whose wounds cause severe shock.

They find her lying near the trunk of tree.
With broken beak but face so full of glee
As if the face is saying," l'd died first
And did not see my chicks in blood immersed. "

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE UNIQUE LINK
A person's task none can complete
save man, who links the earth and heights.
His heart's sublime; so are his thoughts,
a work of art of matchless traits.

He has great sympathy and love
whose fabrics just the angels weave.
They knit them of the dew of seas
to form the clouds that quench the trees.

They keep high clouds for sewing clothes.
They make them for the saints to use,
and save the rest for those great mums
whose love is felt in blithesome dreams.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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A POEM IS A PRAYER .
Good poetry, you are the voice
that moves the heart of that who writes.
His thoughts pass through his heart and float
on sheets of paper pure and white .

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

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

How great verse is when of pure source !
It flows to quench the burning thirst ,
and cleans the soiled mind of its dirt ,
a prayer inspired by the Lord.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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E A S T E R

The rays that fill the sky and earth
Give light that makes us see and move
As Jesus' feat gives rays whose mirth
Fill our hearts with cheerful love.

No death can cast its gloom in space.
He has shown us that death is void
As He rose up to death efface
And join His twelve and all the crowd.

That makes us on earth dance and sing;
The trip to His great land elates.
All mothers, ere that feast, begin
To live great time preparing plates.

We dance and sing; all friends will come
And we'll enjoy a feast so great.
The cheers will fill our hearts and home
As Easter is the greatest feat.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE LONELY SAILOR

Just a word with warmth of heart
He awaits, his sail to start.
Such a trip to that far place
Needs a look with profound sense.

Looking round him but no one
Casts a look ere he is gone.
Lonely heart will lose the nerve
As he wants someone to love.

His ship sets sail into sea
With no hands to waive or plea.
Words of care he did not hear;
Absence, longing none will bear.

No one shows a bit of love
Or avows a wish to live.
He will survive for himself;
None loves him, but he loves life.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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A HOLY DREAM
Sitting near and knitting woollen clothes,
she completely drew my eyes to her.
I was not interested in her work,
but the smoothness of her charming hands.

She could see my eyes were much involved
and was curious why l was concerned.
I was shy to say my heart was charmed
by her smooth, soft hands that made me dream.

Enchanted by their unearthly hue,
I began to feel celestial love.
I just wanted to give them a kiss
and hold them both on my dormant cheeks.

They will take me up to that pure sphere
which we only find in life above.
As l could not say the truth l felt,
I misled her that l liked her skill.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
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