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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THE VAGUE VOYAGE
Old ship, you are departing far.
Your hull is not quite fit to sail
on such a sea that's getting rough,
moved by the tears the people shed.

The people urge you not to sail,
but you insist the time is due.
They ask you where the port will be,
but vague the answer you convey.

Your love is nesting in the hearts.
Where are you taking this dear hull?
You say some words that are obscure
and you depart to your dim dusk.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
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THE VIOLIN AND THE DRUM

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE WAY OUT
We break our heads and think of life
to reach some verse we can indite.
It takes so much to sift this life.
Why don't we choose what has great worth?

This man is great, but what he writes
is just about some crap that can't
give good smell even if he tries
to give it values that it lacks.

There are great issues in the world
that concern you and break your heart.
Why don't you with the greatest minds
endeavour to find good ways out ?

Where are you, Thalia, of great verse ?
Why don't you tell us why and how
you want your poets to use rhyme
to pour on them your precious lines ?

We all live in a world so cruel
that never tries to show the way
to live with tranquil mind and heart ;
why don't we try to find ways out ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE WHITE CLOUD
White cloud, your glorious dew is bliss for all,
may our Lord give you the breeze you wish.
You float above the people who await
your matchless shade to give the cool they need.

What can those people do, but pray for you
to stay in your best shape and cheerful form?
You spray the drops of rain that quench their thirst
and feed their buds to bloom and dress their fields.

When you appear from far above the sea,
all sing and dance to welcome such a guest
whose gifts are springs of love and send their dew
which is rare perfume sweet for us and dear.

White cloud, the eyes are up waiting for you.
They search and pray that your shape will appear.
You are the springs of love that we need most
to get the perfumed dew whose smell brings cheer.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE WINGED VERSE

You are the steed that takes me far:
On earth, in space, or near the star.
No science fiction l write here,
But verse and its rhyme are my sphere.

I like to fly. What can l do?
My wings are short, nowhere can go.
Shall l stay where my land is bare
Or fly with verse where none can dare?

I float on oceans and the seas
And ride among the forest trees.
Sometimes, l probe the people's hearts
And share their secrets in those parts.

On such odd trips, none can compete.
They have no means and they retreat,
But verse can take me far away
Where no one can retrace my way.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE WISE CHOICE
Mary, you're a sublime woman.
Your sacrifice is not little.
You've agreed to be a mother
through a miracle from heaven.

Life is full of doubtful people,
but your faith has endless power
that can see the divine matters
and not care about the human.

What can people give a person
save what can assure his presence
on the earth which is a period
that elapses just like seconds?

You have chosen what has made you
lead all mankind to require
inner comfort which is endless
and escape from boundless torture.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE WISER ARE RESPONSIBLE.
Women are equal to men in everything.
Even they are wiser than some stupid men.
As they are weaker in flesh, they count on mind,
which bestows on them a post of high esteem.

One of their superior traits is that they can
reproduce the human kind, which men cannot.
They give power to their home, higher than that
which a man  can give through his conceited work.

Countries depend on their kids to build their strength,
and to stop the other nations to control
and to change their laws to fit their stupid mind,
swerving them to servile men to reach their goals.

This will make the nations weak and not advanced.
Then the power will return to the strong flesh.
Nations will go backward if women don't give
new, wise men to home and if they waste their time.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THEY ARE MY IMAGE.
I love the people all; l love them much.
They are the picture that shows man himself.
They have the wishes that l have in me,
sometimes achieved but often cause great grief.

They feel afraid of time just as l do.
The passage of its days casts them in rage.
I see them in my clothes with their scared hearts
and share with them life's jail with its steel cage.

I see their fear of ends and where they lead.
Can that dark earthly house grant them delight?
They fear the darkness here how can they bear
to stay the endless time deprived of light?

I love their looking askance how next life
will be for them when they ascend up there.
Will they see parents and those dear to them
and meet the life they've always deemed so fair?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THEY AREN'T INFERIOR.
The days that passed attract our sighs.
They bring some tears that fill our eyes.
The folk who lived in those past days
were great at what they used to say.

They were so perfect in their deeds,
so full of wisdom and of wit.
They were so kind and full of might
and able to create that past.

We speak for long about their acts
as we have missed their lovely sight.
We don't compare with open mind
them with those who are living now.

Why don't we look at who are near
and see their goodness and their charm.
They are so great but have one fault:
they are quite close and still nearby.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THEY  ARE  ONE  SUN .
You are the source of warmth and glorious light.
The warmth and light are joined through splendid rays.
You fill the space, and light the skies and moons.
Without the three of you, no life we view.

The warmth is love that seethes in the heart.
It yearns for something new, a work of art.
What greater arts can be than man and life?
They can satiate the heart of love and warmth.

The sun sends light to fill the universe
so that the warmth of love can see and think.
The wit of light can see to form a man
and all the beasts and plants in that great plan.

The warmth and light can't move without the rays
that can go far and reach the distant ways.
The rays join warmth and light; the three belong
to one gteat sun that lives to love not wrong.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THEY ARE STILL BABES.
Life is rich in what it gives
everyone what suits his mind.
Let me enjoy those great gifts
not minding what people have.

People are of different kinds
like young babes put in one room.
some would like to love and laugh
others to stretch hands and fight.

Some would feel so angry if
one of them likes his own toy.
They won't be glad till they strip
him of that toy that he loves.

Babes, young babes, we know you are
still too young and we excuse.
Try to grow out of that quirk
ere you destroy all and self.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THEY ARE WAITED FOR.
He walked with pride that filled his eyes and face
as if he challenged all the passers-by.
I looked at him ; he stirred my pride and wrath.
I thought that l should such a man defy.

By chance, my eyes went down and saw  his shoes.
They could remind me of those of my son.
I smiled with love and prayed long life to him
as that last thought anon my heart had won.

This man is like my son and that girl's dear
as they have people who are their own kin.
I love them all, and they are close to me
as all share me my care and worried brain.

Like me, they have some worried people there,
waiting to hear their keys and coming sound.
How can l wish them but a safe return
as homes are waiting for their coming round ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THEY CAN'T SWERVE.
Everyone sees on his way in life
buckets full of liquids, some are sweet.
Some are bitter like the hateful spite.
Man can choose what his free soul will fit.

Some have met great failure in their life,
and have got a mind so full of pride.
Sweetness seems too soft to gratify
all the grudges which with them abide.

Poor are they; l wonder how they can
tolerate the bitterness they live.
They make people hate their face and tongue,
but their spiteful way they never swerve.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THEY NEED EACH OTHER.
Self-centered fellows think they are great men.
They can attract some women to their beds,
assuming they are clever and they think
that women run to sigh on their wide chests.

How can we compare those most stupid men
with those who respect women and their roles,
like what was performed by Marie Currie,
who could achieve what those lewd men ignore.

Women, you are the wife who fills the house
with her sweet laughter and her silent work.
You are much brighter than those who suppose
you are created to be ruled by men.

You are the mother who stays up the night
to look after her child who needs her care.
You don't heed what some men would proudly say
as both are born to sigh on their mate's chest.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THEY WEEP INSIDE THE CHEERS.
My heart is with the poor and crying eyes
that shed their tears as they are lonely thrown
inside their pit of woe while all around,
the rich are dancing in their pubs and homes.

I bring them to my mind with their deep pit
of hunger that keeps them awake all night.
They writhe from side to side after midnight
while others dance and sing with lots to drink.

Fast time is passing by with these and those
as time is one for all who live on earth.
The rich are puzzled how to spend their time
while those in their deep pit try hard to climb.

I ask if time should be the same for both,
or pangs of hunger should give them more time.
Perhaps, one day they may have what to eat,
but then it will be late for them to dance.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THINK OF THAT TEST.
All wounds are pain, and no one likes
to suffer pain and its harsh strain.
Up there, God asks about my wounds.
I say,"l had some in my life."

I put them all in front of Him
but feel they are too few and slim.
I beg His mercy to accept
my humble injuries on land.

I'm so ashamed of what l have,
but ask His kindness to forgive
what l could not do in life's time
to be the brother of His Son.

My Lord, do not be ******* me.
I've done my best for this hard test.
My trivial scratches are too few.
Forgive me, Lord, for what l show.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________




.

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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LOVE ALL, BUT PARENTS FIRST.
Don't let your selfishness blind your poor sight.
There are a lot of things you have to see.
If parents are a bit angry with you,
it does not mean they prefer your strong kin.

You have to show them both the love they want.
It's not the matter of receipts and gifts.
Perhaps, your father needed your strong hand;
his heart was asking you to take his seat.

Love all the people, but your parents first
and give them what you can of help and needs.
If it's too late and they have gone to rest,
direct your love to what they loved the most.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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
__________

TIME
No wonder, time, you are so fast.
You use the light to pull your cart
and take man and the world with them
to gratify your hidden whim.

You are sadistic and you join
your hand with death and years that run.
Years take all creatures to old age
to make death find them in one cage.

Evil you are with all your friends,
but all the group on time depends.
Why don't you be kind and slow down
to give us space to rest and yawn?

But time and rays of that high sun
complete each other and are one
as both collude to make a year,
which man looks at with utmost fear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

TIME AND TIMELESSNESS
I'm surprised why people worry
concerning what life will send them.
Can they change the ways of problems,
bringing home what can be lucky?

What surprises is the future.
Get out of the turning planets,
you will find the stable present,
but no years can your mind puzzle.

That can show your greatness, present,
great on earth and great in heaven.
On the earth, you give the value
of events which man can witness.

But in heaven, you are constant,
where no one can ever be spent.
Souls will be with God eternal;
lives won't know what can be final.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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TIME OR ENDLESS SPACE ?

So great is life if it's like space,
No years to count time's nervous pace,
No dates to sever people's lives,
But space to join as it contrives.

That man lived hundreds years ago,
And this, years later time did throw.
They are joined on one land and earth.
Why should time sever them by birth ?

How great is life in boundless scope,
With no days tied to gyroscope,
But just an endless view where all
Are joined in space outside time's rule.

We live with all those whom we love
And share the rule of space above.
All joined in one group with no years
To bind us with time and its fears.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TIME, THE FAST THIEF

Don't be proud of youth, my dear.
It won't stay with you for long.
It is something dear but swift
like enjoying a good song.

Don't trust time; it is a thief,
that will rob you and depart,
leaving you looking with sighs,
welling tears, a broken heart.

Have you got a plan in life?
Please, don't wait and run so fast.
Time, the thief, is watching you.
It seems slow, but who can trust?

Girl of twenty, don't wait long.
Run and find your hidden mate
ere that thief can outrun you
and it gets for you too late.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TOO  FAST
How can you convince a man
that this life has got a sense ?
Don't you see how the past went,
taking those whom we knew well ?

Every morn's daily routine
forms the tedious waste of time.
When it's done, the sun's fast steed
will be neighing loud at dusk.

We intend to mark the day
to produce a distinct one.
We behold the sun is up,
announcing the coming dawn.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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TOO LATE
My dear father, where are you ?
You are so far from my view.
Life has taken you so far.
Only God knows where you are.

Love of old comes back to me,
stirring chagrin mixed with glee
when l recall your past days
and your love with its soft rays.

Man can meet great men on earth
who enhance his love and mirth,
but their value he can't ken
till their faces get unseen.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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TOO  LATE  TO  CHANGE
He spent his youth consulting books
about the thoughts that were the best.
He worked so ******* thoughts and words
that gave a pledge of a false bequest.

When young, he earned what was enough
but could not store for his old age.
The books he read instructed him
when matching thoughts, wealth would soon  cringe.

His youth was spent on books of verse
that made him know the black from white,
but life taught him that only gold
could bring respect and prove him right.

He looked around and found his books
could not give him the cost of life.
They were like paupers on his desk
that could not save his kids from grief.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TOO MEEK THOUGH HUGE
Where are we heading for with this progress?
The kings could **** and give dear lives to men.
With feudal lords, they could possess the land
and all the people with their planted grains
they ploughed and watered, yet they starved to death.

They fought and raved to reach their rights to live.
A lot of heads were kicked like ***** on fields
till men could find the spark that lit their way
and that gunpowder of the freedom day.

Democracy was gained, but tricks were born,
and science came to light what can destroy
the whole earth with the genes that could bring men
and send them where the dinosaurs were sent.

Poor dinosaurs, you were too meek though huge.
Your earth was wrecked when your space was in rage,
but though man is too small in size, he can
destroy his earth with his dark fumes and shells.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
___________

TOO PRECIOUS TO BE LOST
What has occurred to those who follow You?
They're at a complete loss in their hard world.
We look at those who live where the sun sets.
They are enchanted by science and wealth.

We look at where you wanted to be born.
They have got very few, too weak to speak.
Their number can be counted on one hand
and they are leaving their homes and their land.

When l look at your book and how You lived,
I find You loved all men and died for them.
The love You taught us and led to Your cross
is mixed in our heads with puzzled thoughts.

Your love was like a jewel Your hands cut.
You'd made it from the earth and changed to rock.
I fear this matchless jewel will be lost
as it's so rare that nothing can compare.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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
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TORTURES ONE CAN'T ESCAPE
My Lord, l want to be quite clean, and live
my precious life with laughter pure and loud
and not to shun the men, and be alone
weighing my sins that rack my heart and mind.

My Lord, please save my heart from evil acts
that l may do unconscious of their woe.
These acts return to burden me with guilt
I cannot bear as they have fearful weight.

When l would like to read a precious book,
I hate to feel my sins sharing my look.
I read but useless; nothing l absorb
as my sins can picpocket all my gain.

So wide's the world of sin, and l fear all.
They make me like a slave, fully controlled.
They torture me while others are so pleased.
I leave them to their joy and live my gall.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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TO THOSE WHO CARE
Dearest poets, think so deeply.
Is this life a serious question
or are we mere passing figures
like a cat or thoughtful monkeys.

I address some people who are
top in thinking and emotions
who can differ what is blather
from what's thoughtful and eternal.

It's not guiltless to destroy man
in the arms of sinful people
as their pleasure is destruction
and eternal hell of torture.

Have you got opposing reasons?
You may say that man is nothing.
Since to dust his way is leading,
let him grasp each passing second.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
__________

TRACING MY EARLY CHILDHOOD
I passed beside the site of my old house
that my dear father was so glad to build.
I looked for buildings that were licensed then
to tell me now where my first years were reared.

There, my young parents were in early years
of their pure marriage that for them was dear.
They were so soft and gave me all their time,
and their warm underwings witnessed my cheer.

That was the time when l learnt the Lord's care,
seen through the hands of parents weaving love.
They made me feel that life was timeless joy
for that immortal child who loved to live.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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TRUE  GIFTS
I see no hope in life, but through true gifts
when people set no limits when they give.
They see their love in gifts that can free them
from fear of death and its most horrid grave.

Place your heart in those gifts and feel their taste
which  is much sweeter than all what you take.
No sense can be as sweet as that you feel
as it will free your heart from what can break.

The boundless gifts make you attached to whom
you love to give and keep him close beside.
True gifts can join the hearts and make them one
as love unites those hearts which gifts can bind.

The Lord has placed survival in this world
on acts of giving between man and wife.
They both give all, their flesh, their minds, and souls,
which keeps their kind and saves them from all grief.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TRUE LIKE THE SUN

Once you love you can't have your love undone ;
It starts to stay and outlive the bright sun .
The sun may discard its light and its heat,
But your heart will join your love with its beat.

Love is a passion that enslaves your soul ;
It starts to stay and be in full control,
But such a slave you would delight to be
As your life's meaning through this love you see.

Love can lead you to sacrifice unknown
That makes you understand what Christ has done
When He along the way of passions walked
And put on painful cross yet never balked .

You go through hardest paths just for a smile
Which once beheld, you find it quite worthwhile
As love has its own rules and queerest lore
Which only those who live it can explore .

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TRUE LOVE

Love, you are my soul's most freshing breeze.
You can help my soul to flow with ease.
You make me forget myself and think
Of her tender eyes and charming blink.

Love, you make me sail on seas so sweet,
Not minding strong sharks or hostile fleet.
Just to get a glimpse from her dear eyes,
That make me live far, in depth of skies.

Life and soul get cheap just to please her
Not caring what in return they stir,
Yielding all that l have, in her hand
Nothing for all that, l will demand.

I give all my life but never ask
In return, a gift or any task.
All my aim is seeing her quite pleased
Living all her life happy and eased.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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TRUE  LOVE

True love is just charity like
Should be quite silent and not talk.
What your right gives should not be known
By your left hand or anyone.

When charity speaks with loud voice,
It's not a dole but show off choice,
And love just follows the same case;
If you outspeak, you'll love debase.

Love should be known just between two
The third is God Who's close to you.
Don't let a fourth side interfere
As then, your love won't be sincere.

Whatever occurs you should solve
Between the two and third above.
If fourth gets in, you lose a lot,
And first of all your trust will rot.

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

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

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

Hatred is the common thing that joins them all
and leads them to gather in the prison hall.
Slumber directs my head to a pillow clear
from remorse to sleep quiet nights free from all care.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WAR AND PEOPLE
How can you, war, ascend to such a stage
of high repute for doing gallant deeds.
You are the killer of the poorest men,
who are quite armless, yet you speak of pride.

The poor are always where great danger lurks.
They have to risk and go where food exists.
They scarcely earn enough to have their need,
or find what can placate their nagging kids.

They have only their tears for those who die
as they are friends and kin, who left young girls.
The rich will hear the news while drinking tea.
They only come back home when all is quiet.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

WAS THAT FAIR?
A little bird looked at a hawk
whose high respect filled all the sky.
She liked the power that he showed
and hoped to have the force he owned.

The hawk could do all what he liked.
He killed small birds and had good time.
He had *** far from his own nest
where by his wife he'd not be chased.

The little bird stayed near her house.
She saw a male bird near to her.
She had an ******* with him
not for enjoyment but morale.

Her male saw her and got enraged,
and he at once divorced his wife.
She thought that those who were not strong.
Should keep away from what was wrong.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

WAS THAT HIS AIM?
He did not care for wealth or gold
but did not find a thing around
that could bring him on his sad face
a happy look, a taste of peace.

He started gathering not convinced,
but money could uphold his crest.
It got his pleasure and his aim
as it conferred on him a name.

So big was his house and quite full
of best furniture that was cool,
but when he died his house was closed
with none to weep for who reposed.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WEAKNESS AND LOVE
Danger, you can change the words a tongue
would be glad to say  about a man.
You may force a mother to deny
whom she held in womb, her dearest son.

Jesus knew that Peter would recant,
yet He asked him thrice if he loved Him.
Then He made him shepherd of His flock,
giving him the key of his own realm.

Love is what He wants a man to feel,
and not what he says in state of fear.
Who can say the truth when danger comes,
but who's dear will stay forever dear.

That endows me comfort, my dear Lord.
I'm so certain of my love to you.
Just You, no one else, are my dear God.
I'm like Peter whose love is so true.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WE IGNORE WHAT SIN IS.
He forgave all who killed Him on the cross
as they were not aware what they had done.
No one who knows what sin can be will throw
himself in burning hell, which spoils his earth!

We don't know what sin is and what it brings,
remorse and painful gnashing of the teeth.
Will man seek such tormenting fate if he
knows that his sin will fetch him much regret?

We are too small to ken the vital truth
that makes us know and set us fully free.
We think that fire is so bright and nice;
we burn our hands, and then we start to weep.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

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
____________

WHAT CAN BE DONE?
I was a child in that warm house,
too weak and young, but there were two,
who were so kind and gave me all
to make my way a lovely stroll.

When l was bored, they brought me toys.
When l was scared, they stood beside.
I'm made of flesh and profound soul.
They cared for both and gave me mirth.

I grew up and my mind's begun
to look for whom the spirit heeds.
l can't be left to face my thoughts
that fear the vagueness of the rest.

Where can one find the needed help?
Can we be pleased to close our eyes?
What happened ere now will occur.
Can you trust your dear life to that?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

WHAT CAN BE DONE?

What can a person do to calm
The fear that can disturb his heart
While age is taking him to harm
And he can see his nearing blight?

He lives some years of careless mind
When life shows him his bottle's full.
He drinks but knows it can still stand
Whatever large gulps he can pull.

Then age appears to stare and wink.
He looks at life with some clear doubt.
He cuts down on what he can drink,
But none will take him from age out.

Old age comes fast like furious steed
To prance just by a high rock brink.
The steed will balk; none can impede
To make him fall, no time to blink.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

WHAT CAN HE DO?
He was obliged to share as all his brothers were.
There were some people killed and some lost land and homes.
All that took place when he was still a mere, young child,
and heard a story that his parents don't admit.

Now, he's supposed to swear to prove a new lawsuit.
He knows it is not true, but he can't contradict.
His father, uncles, aunts will be gravely condemned.
He should swear on what's wrong or lose those who are dear.

His conscience is so stunned, and sharp teeth start to bite
his tired mind that weeps and asks refuge through death
ere that most horrid day will request him to swear
and bring him fearful pain or loss of those so dear.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________