WHO RULES THE UNIVERSE ?
Is it nature or a Lord so high ?
I prefer it to be a kind Lord.
Nature cannot feel ; it is mere laws ,
but the Lord will love and feel for man .

Nature will impose the hardest rules .
What is right in heartless way is done.
Man is not a rock, a tree or germs
that endure and have no tears to run.

Nature can't be lenient like a Dad
Who accepts insults to save His son.
He is ready to be hung on cross
and forgive those who gave Him the myrrh .

Who would like a robot as a mum
to endow the care that a child needs
with no real love nor tender heart
nor the soul that conveys moral needs ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHOSE MISTAKE?
My eyes have asked a lttle boy
who wept silently by a wall
why he is hiding secret tears
that let those he loves see his grief?

They kindly ask about the cause
and give him some consoling words.
He'll feel all right, and it will pass
with smiles that give the sweet repose.

His eyes rejoin, it's his mistake.
His marks at school are bad and those
he loves expect the best from him.
His hardest work give no rejoice.

He works so hard, not to be proud,
but please those dear who are around.
He loves them  much and want them glad
when they perceive their son is grand.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WHY ALL THAT RUSH ?
We know, dear spring, that you come every year,
but each year, you come riding that fast steed.
Why don't you think of those who always wait
for your advent and slow down your rush speed ?

We wait for you but with fear of your flight,
and bring the fodder that your steed loves most.
It does not care for food, but it's just proud
that none can race with it in such blind haste.

What can we do but accept and keep quiet.
Both, steed and you, seem hasty and don't care
about those who would love to stay with you
though once you show up, you turn us your rear.

Why are you rush and careless of fond hearts?
Do you consider us like your own trees?
We aren't as heartless as the earth and crags,
and never survive as some trees can live.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHY DO I LOVE JESUS?
You may ask me why l have faith in Jesus Christ.
The answer is because He makes me live delight.
I've read a lot about all types of human beings,
but Jesus is unique. He loved who caused Him pain.

He saw in that who pierced His heart with pointed spear
a man who did not know what his right hand had done.
He forgave him and asked His Father to forgive.
When man just tastes this love, how can he throw it out?

His heart felt man with depth and cried his fear and pain
and sympathized with him in his mirth and and his gloom.
He makes me see all men through His most profound way,
which makes my life so full of mirth and joyful depth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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WHY DO I WRITE ?
Perhaps, you ask, "Why do you write ?
Is it not just to build a name?"
It is in part for that clear aim ,
but truth and love have their great charm .

I tend to say the honest word ,
but people hate to hear the truth .
The truth is always for the heart
and worthless words are for the tongue .

I find in my pen and my sheet
the only friends who love the truth .
My tongue feels free to break the chain
imposed on by a crafty brain .

I love the truth when it joins hands
with some love that can blunt its blade .
The two endow what we all need
to get the joy and life they plead .
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHY DO I WRITE ?

I will keep working hard till l find
the true secret of joy in this world.
I won't deal with why roses are great.
This is what everyman clearly sights.

I would like to go through my deep heart
to search deep, and know what it enjoys,
to find scopes which can grant its delight,
which makes life clarified by that light.

I would dive in the soul and its peace
to try hard to espy its great glee,
where it finds the true life that it seeks
and achieves its demands for good life.

That endows me morale that l need
to perform what my soul loves to live.
Nothing can bring man peace if his soul
is not sure of the deeds it performs.

What can words add to roses if man
knows so well that all roses are great.
What man needs is to find what life means
and to meet the right gate through his way.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

WHY DON'T WE ?
We don't think that man is weak,
and he shies to ask or speak.
We think just of what we need,
ignoring the others' hope.

Clouds that roam the upper sky
mingle with the clouds nearby,
pushing this and dragging that
so that none of them will drop.

Stars so far are clear and bright,
winking to attract the sight.
Each would like to help the rest
and not miss one of the group.

Why don't we help those who grieve?
Little push will make them live
to enjoy their lives and laugh
and we all can reach the top.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHY DON'T WE?

Glowing warmth shines in my heart;
God gives me that warmth to live.
It shows me how life is bright
When we live to take and give.

I find lots of things you have.
I see them just in few words
That make tranquil hearts strive
To read more from your soft hands.

Few words from you make me dance;
I have such words that make you
Dance like me and soar with bliss.
How rich is this life we view!

Life is full of love so pure,
Clean and blessed and makes you laugh;
Live that joy that can endure,
And enjoy your happy life.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WHY DON'T YOU HELP, MIND?
Mind of man, you are so great
when you give what can be read
by a brother mind that needs
little help to go ahead.

You are great when you give men
what they need to know the truth,
scattered in the cosmic space
and no mind can grasp its worth.

When you write what with great ease
baffled minds can understand.
They catch one end of the thread,
mighty motion to great land.

Dearest mind, you spend long time,
thinking of what you would write.
Is a puzzle better than
knowledge that gives great delight?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH,
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WHY DO PEOPLE HAVE CHILDREN ?
Children, why do parents bring you here,
to this world of trouble and headache?
Is it for the pleasure that they meet
when a male and female share one bed?

One finds himself stumbling in the world.
Care and fear fill his disturbing life.
He looks for someone to soothe his end,
and bring him a smile to his old age.

Those who have their needs and untold wealth
are so often engaged in their jobs,
crowding their income or seeking joy,
giving no attention to a child.

Man is selfish; hardships taught him that.
Some have children to build their own boon.
Some are zealous for their creed or faith,
but few for sheer love of that poor kid.
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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WHY DO WE WRITE POETRY?
I wonder why we tend to write
our verse and mostly at midnight.
We wait long time with our pen
for thoughts to come not knowing when.

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

Insisting on wasting the time,
why don't we spend it on good rhyme,
the verse that brightens our day
and makes us pass a clearer way?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WiLL I JOIN HANDS WITH SIMEON?
I thought of faith and Jesus Christ
and toiled to reach a sublime state.
That state for me is supreme joy.
When l see Jesus, l attain.

I met a priest so dear to me
and talked about my joy and faith.
He said when Jesus was a babe,
His parents took Him to the shrine.

When Simeon held the glorious Child,
He looked at Him and thanked the Lord.
He said,"My God, You have fulfilled
Your promise of my jubilee."

Then Simeon was so pleased and charmed
as he saw Christ before his death.
I wonder if my joy of faith
will let me feel what Simeon did.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WILL OR STRENGTH?
I esteem those who accept the truth
and admit they are too weak for life.
They explore how they can give much more
than those who speak much just us to bluff.

They reflect on where their land is strong
and install their tower that goes high.
They can see what comes from far and near
and defeat blind force that sits to sigh.

No one may accept that the tortoise
outruns the rabbit which can run fast?
Power is not all when mind is strong.
Will is the great winner that laughs last.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WILL VERSE GIVE US LIFE?
What can we expect from this short life,
which is like a dream whose sense is vague?
We scarcely lie down when we wake up
quite amazed at what all that has been.

I've been serious and have used my time
among piles of books that gives me lots.
Most talented was my genius friend,
Father Denis, who taught me best verse.

He endowed me all what man would need
and did not depart till he got sure
that l would be as good as he wished
in a world where success is too hard.

I've continued in my serious way,
spending lots of time among my books.
I have written lots of verse and hope
it will give my teacher and me life.
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
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WOMAN  AND  JUSTICE
Where is justice in this life where muscles rule,
and your muscles are not on your arms and legs
as you can't battle with man whose arms are strong;
power resides in your heart and in your brain.

Misdeeds lead you to be slain and lose repute,
whereas he who shares your sin twirls his moustache.
Like a peacock he outspreads his feathers, pleased
while you turn to broken glass out of repair.

You exhaust yourself outside your waiting house,
and return to wash the clothes and cook the meals.
Kids must be in their attire clean and neat,
or you are accused of careless attitude.

You work outdoors and indoors to please your spouse,
who should be proud of the kids who have his name.
All that happens and sweet justice is avowed
all the people on this globe are well endowed.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WOMEN
A splendid place a woman has
inside my heart and in my soul.
You are the mother, daughter, wife.
You are who weaves us winter's wool.

You are the womb that gives men life,
whose role won't end with giving birth.
Men are the fathers all their lives.
You are the feeders, love , and mirth.

No honest man can see in you
his pastime as you are his mum.
He loves you and gives you his heart;
the wife and crown of his dear home.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WOMEN AND MEN
Women, you are great and smart.
What is useful is your act.
While men practice sports, you cook
and you do the housework art.

Men, your work is for yourself.
No wonder. The strong are so.
Those who deem they are so soft
carry life, and none they do !

Your work is always so quiet.
Calm work has built all the world.
Drums, don't be so proud; you are
empty hollows and mere void.

Go on working, women, go.
On your heads the world will poise.
Without your hard work we are
confused world with lots of noise.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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WORK AND HAPPINESS
Inner pleasure is so charming
but it leads to what's crestfallen.
Life outside us is quite lovely,
but its loss can always frighten.

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

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

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

WORK IS THE FATHER OF JOY.
What gives the cheerfulness of heart
except you, work, that my strength dare,
on that most thoughtful and dear verse
that could steal all my greatest care.

I started writing day and night,
but none of value could appear,
yet l was certain that my work
would give results my heart would cheer.

My labour was not gauged by wealth
but by expecting a surprise.
It was too late, but l was sure
that something would abruptly rise.

No jewels would confer a sign
but work would make me shun wrong deeds.
I kept on working, now l find
a sort of joy my feeling needs.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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WOULD YOU BEFRIEND YOUR ANALOGUE ?

If there were a man like you,
Would you like that man to view ?
Would you take him as a friend,
Or his meeting soon you end ?

If you hate that boring man,
Don't blame men if they complain
When you are with them or near
As you spoil their atmosphere.

If you like to be with him
As with life he is agleam.
All to be with you are glad;
Old and young even your God.

Man is not by how he looks,
But by what he does and seeks.
Great men can do what most men
Can't imagine to be done.

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

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

Written words, you are a charming light
which some, like the moths, get near to die,
or you can be like the lighthouse flash
which some others use to save their lives.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOU ARE MY CHILD.
Why do you treat Me like the Lord,
Whom you fear and pay heed to meet?
Am l an emperor or judge
whom just to meet is what you fear?

I want Myself to be your dear,
just like your father or your mum.
You go to them with great delight
not frightened to make yourself clear.

How can you love the judge who sits
with majesty and will decide
the scaffold or to set you free?
You quiver when you see his sight.

Approach Me with your heart with glee.
I am your tender Mum whose eyes
will share your pleasure and your tears
and loves to keep you near her heart.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOU BUILD YOUR WORLD.
The thoughts you bring to mind will build your world.
The spires that reach the sky should be so high.
The humble and mean thoughts will bring you vice
that leads you to the depth of dark abyss.

Reflect on evil, then the devil comes
to bring you harmful thoughts of dreadful harm.
He shows you what is right the greatest blight,
and what is wrong the light that clears the dark.

You mean to see the scene of Eden's green,
recall the people whose cool words install
what was so great and passed but left results
you see quite full of glee to tortureed hearts.

Recall the good, your soul will find the world
is full of moments that are sweet to heal
the damage that the evil can avail
to make what is around a hateful jail.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOU CAN'T HAVE BOTH.

You can't have both, your conscience rest,
And all the wealth your father left.
The two are heavy to soar with
To heaven where God grants His mirth.

How can you blend between robbed coins
And tranquil life your conscience joins ?
The soul of evil your heart dwells
With those robbed coins your safe conceals.

You can drive cars and fly first class
And meet the people whose words pass;
You can be proud and get respect
But your heart will all that regret.

A rich girl you have as a spouse
And gain a palace for a house;
You can fly and see all the world
But remorse on your heart is hurled.

In brief, you feel a thing is lost
That all your theft can't pay the cost;
It is your brother's stolen share
That leads your heart to full despair.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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YOU CARRIED ME FAR, GOLD-FINCH.
I try to catch the song that a finch sings.
I find its wavy sound in my heart rings,
but my ears are too weak to seize the tune
and to my dearest poems to attune.

I see you perching on a twig too frail.
I find it like my words that try to nail
your tune and that rainbow that stins the sky
and spans between your tree and clouds that cry.

You make me know how tethered are my hands
when compared with my soul whose flight expands
between the earth, the sea and endless space,
starting from my small room and tiny house.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOU JUDGE YOURSELF.

Old age, you come as a strict judge
To give the verdict you can't fudge.
You look at past events and deem
What was of value or brought harm.

You think of periods drifted fast.
How quickly, you will get aghast.
You think of actions or past norms
To give your verdict final forms.

This verdict either will give you
A hell or heaven in your view.
Heaven and hell start from the earth.
They grow as your flesh loses strength.

As your strict judge is your pure soul
Old age allows it to control.
At last, your flesh gets weak and dies
And your soul soars up and flies.

It gets the sole judge as it is
A part of God in paradise.
God gives the soul, but flesh has mind
When young, your mind can life decide.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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YOUR ANSWERS GRATIFY ME.
Why don't you answer me my dearest friends?
Are you quite satisfied with your own lives?
Do you find all your care exists in fun?
Does not your end create a sense of doubt?

Are you so sure of what this life can mean?
Have you discovered what you need from it?
Are you performing all what you're supposed
to do and going where you'll find full rest?

I love you all and think you are elites.
You think and write what is so deep and wise.
You are the guides who lead confiding sheep.
Consider me a lamb who needs a word.

What do you think of life? Is there a task
which man should do ere he departs or leaves?
Are we supposed to be prepared for death?
Is there no Father Who will meet His kids?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOU'RE MY HOPE AND LOVE.
A light has shone inside my heart.
I've loved it much and knelt to it
as it has given me a sight
I love to see that it exists.

It makes me think about the source
and feel so glad it's from the Lord.
His worth is high in my poor core
as He's become my only hope.

I've found Jesus in daily life
in those who suffer and keep quiet.
Despite all that they show their smile
lest those they love will be disturbed.

He's changed the earth's old attire
and dressed it with what is divine.
He's made His heaven start from here
to make us soothed with endless bliss.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOUR FACE OR A BOOK?
I sit with you; l read your face,
and fold you in a deep embrace.
Your profound thoughts l can't neglect.
All my fulfillment you create.

You're always there when l need you.
You never let me down and out.
When one of your most daring views
escapes my mind, you never spout.

You unfold notions that repeat
to make the picture quite complete.
How great you are when you are near.
You are my loved one and my dear.

You never think of which place
I locate you among your friends.
You never want to be an ace
though you well know that you are grand.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOUR FACE OR THE MOON?

I went uphill with her to see the moon,
And live an atmosphere so kind and boon.
Got there, l felt my mind uprose so high
And lived in Eden that could charm my eye.

I looked up; l could see the moon was bright.
It filled the world with lovely orange light.
I thought the moon could paint this comely scene;
Its rays could light the site and its dark screen.

I loved the moon for what it could create
As both my heart and soul could high elate.
A glance at your most charming, quiet eyes
Made me the true creator recognize.

I felt they were much dearer than the moon.
They were the spell that could our hearts attune.
I looked at what the sky could brightly light
And found your face would be a better sight.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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YOUR WORD CAN BE MY GUIDE.
I am not writing just to gain.
the honour that l have the brain
that can indite some rhythmic lines
that you will like and praise my name.

I know you have the head that thinks.
You go along the way l pass.
It's full of hardships and complaints.
Just look at your most recent lines.

I like to join your aims with mine
and read a word from your smart mind.
You are supposed to have some thoughts.
I will be pleased if lots are wise.

I don't compete with you to chant
what can produce a better lay.
I look at what you write to find
what makes me have a content heart.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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YOU USED TO LOVE RED.
Will you have the joy of your heart
after such a crime that was bright?
Will you satisfy your mean greed,
feasting on what that crime endowed?

Soul and mind have changed their main job,
painting those men whom you could rob.
Red is taken from their shed blood,
sticking on your ****** red mind.

Your perfect crime that escaped spies
could appear in your red, glum eyes.
Even, kinds of red you adore,
have got what you so much abhor.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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