SELF-ESTEEM AND RESULTS
Wise self-esteem is not a gift.
It's built by self and not bestowed.
The mountain peak can pierce the clouds.
It's height is in and not endowed.

You can plant hills and make them green,
and full of flowers, a lovely sight,
but they can't in their height compete
with lofty chains to reach high site.

My self-esteem is what l build,
and knit its stitches with my hands.
Machines can never reach that end;
craftsmen construct and then art stands.

Vain kings came and went but could not
leave what Napoleon's hands could weave.
The world was full of passers-by,
but few whose self-esteem could  thrive.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SELFISH LOVE
You pretend that she was dear,
and you practised *** with her.
You introduced her to sin;
now with others, she wants more.

She is with another man,
and you are sorry for that
not because you spoilt her life
but because you need delight.

Don't you see that you killed her;
she has no husband nor kids.
Who will care for her when old?
All that's for your selfish needs.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SELFISHNESS
I'm sorry for the west to have
this rapid fall into its death.
It had great nations which could rule
the world from furthest east to west.

They were the leaders who could build
the knowledge that advanced the world.
They gave inventions that could stun
the nations of dark ignorance.

All that is caused because their men
have wished to have the *** they need
without protection to their girls
who need safe homes to live and breed.

Corruption has replaced deep faith.
Their people are in full decrease.
Their youths are coming from abroad
to bring with them Europe's downfall.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SENSE OF GUILT
Sense of guilt, how can you be
so unfair when you dispense
your hot embers to the hearts
as to some the share is scarce ?

Some can steal, and some can ****
with a cheerful face and heart
when their acts have passed unseen,
and no one has found their hilt

whereas some feel deep remorse
for defending their own rights,
and they cause someone to weep,
which induces sleepless nights.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SEPTEMBER

Falling leaves, you were small buds.
Now, you fall to kiss the ground.
What kind Spring used as green studs
With no mercy Autumn browned.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SHAME NEEDS DARKNESS.
Come with me, my friend, to go inside
that deep cave where Satan makes his house.
Risks have built their castles and their hold;
I'm afraid to go; l'm not quite bold.

None can go inside if he can't leave
just when Satan moves his tail and fork.
Therefore, none can go inside such spots
except vicious snakes or flying bats.

Angels won't select a place like that.
Vice would often choose what people fear.
They would hide themselves where no eyes can
find out what they do or what they plan.

Perhaps, you may ask why l go there.
I would like to see if it's worthwhile
to endure a place too far from light
to indulge yourself in such an act.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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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SHOULD PARENTS BE SURPRISED?
They think that they will have what will be theirs.
They have a lot of children; each will be
a human being who has his own viewpoint
which will diverge from that of his close kin.

The parents feel surprised; those are our kids!
We've brought them up in one, most loving home.
How can they differ and sometimes get rough,
and we've endowed them all that we can have?

Poor parents! You don't know that every child
is one who comes to life to pass along
a way so full of thorns to reach a peak.
I wonder if he will be satisfied.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SHOW THE HAPPY SIDE.
Don't declare this life is full of care and dirt.
I'm so certain of this fact, and can say more.
I'd be grateful if you can teach me the skills
Which one learns to make his life full of great joy.

Life can have some hiding regions in its depths.
Only that who is so shrewd can know their ways.
I'd be glad if you can drop my old concern,
showing me where l can find the keys of joy.

Men of talents don't tell me that flesh will rot.
People know this fearful fact, but most don't know
how to find the pleasant life and where joy hides.
If you have the clue, l'll be your faithful fan.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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S  I  N
You are a lack of light and seek the dark.
What can't be gained in light is your bright spark.
You have a lack of trust and lack of strength;
That's what inspires you to move in stealth.

You are a gun held by a stupid hand
That does not know where triggered bullets land.
You always lead to where the aim is wrong
And hit your preys whose pleasure won't live long.

You take them to a cave where light is dim
And show them that daylight none can redeem.
They break the laws of heart as darkness spreads,
Beguiling them no light in life retreads.

Sunlight comes back and they see their own own dirt,
But nothing can be done except regret.
They spend the rest of their life shedding tears;
Their blurring eyes can't see when hope appears.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SMILE ALL THE TIME.
You feel dejected! Why? You've failed a test?
What does that mean, compared with loss of life?
As long as you have breath that moves and heaves,
let all the people hear your loudest laugh.

You've failed a test! You can that class repeat.
Perhaps, a new colleague will bring you luck.
The earth is turning round. That makes life great.
The problem is to stop and bring you wreck.

Let your most grateful smile thank God for life
as when you are alive, you'll mend the wrong
however big it is, you can correct.
If not set right, cheer up if you are strong.

The Lord wants you to have great trust in Him.
He can create the good from what seems bad.
Not all His ways are shown and made so clear.
Just place your trust in Him. He is your Dad.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SOUL, BUT ALSO BODY
The saints obtained the grace that made
their souls so filled with holy faith
to live a life quite full of rest
and shining moons to fill their nights.

They were so cheerful as they lived
some bliss that they would find above.
They got sure that life would not end
and they would move from joy to grace.

That made them glad, but had a price.
that would depend on their steel force.
Could they accept to die so soon
on hurting cross or in hot oil?

That would depend on earthly strength.
Did they have what the Lord had owned.
He held His cross, but could they hold
a painful death in boiling oil?

That would count on what they could bear
with their flesh muscles and their will.
If they'd been weak, they would have failed
as faith would fail for lack of might.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SPEEDING TO THE FULL STOP

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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STEERED BY HIS OWN WILL

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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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STOP WHINING!

Why do you weep? Why do you whine?
Your tears will make your state decline.
You give a chance to those around
To show false care, but their boast hide.

Man proves that he is weak and cruel.
He lives to master and to rule.
When you cry, he feels pleased and gloats
But does not show you his true thoughts.

Don't show him weakness; he will use
When needed just you to abuse.
He will stare in your eyes and say,
"Don't you recall that stupid day?"

Show man your power not your fear.
Your fear is clear, won't disappear.
Your power stops him to provoke,
To destroy you with your bright work.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SUPPLICATION

I need Your hand; l'm in a hole,
And darkness spreads its full control
To fill the ditch where l'm alone
And none would help or play that role.

Don't overlook my begging plea.
Your little help can set me free
From this cruel fate where l am thrown.
You still can bring back my passed glee.

No one but You can hear my shout;
You are the only One l spot.
I'm thrown here by a strong cyclone
And none but You can take me out.

Don't leave me; You are my last chance;
A little pull, and l can prance.
Don't leave me with my unheard groan
Hyenas then will feast and dance.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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SURPRISED !
Surprised an stunned, how can you read such themes
and don't say just a word to criticize?
Don't they concern the life that you go through
or are these subjects strange to human eyes?

Am l an alien who has come from far,
or has someone outfitted me with it?
How can l speak about some trivial thoughts,
while serious ones can move my mind and heart?

I expect some few words to tell me what
you think about these themes that stun us all.
Perhaps, l see your points, which change my mind
and we can reach the answers that us cool.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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SWEET MOTHERS
She works all day and joins her dawn with night
for something that can't be so clear to sight.
Her work is non-stop like the clever bee
from meals, to clothes, to cleaning and then tea.

All these are done while being kind to her spouse,
who answers her from his revered repose.
He has worked ******* his high-polished verse,
that who can disturb him will get his curse.

His wife is caring for her angry son;
his pencil broke and his pen was stolen.
She listens with great patience and with love;
his kicks inside her womb are still alive.

Great women , one of you is Jesus' mum.
She felt the same like mums from cross to womb.
Her Son has chosen her and not a man
to be the mum of heights as no man can.
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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TELL ME WHERE SHE GOES.
She's distracted and goes far
from my nearby seat.
Who can tell me where she strays
will be my great dear.
She's the love that shows me where
my most vivid hope
dwells and gives me cheerful life,
filling me with joy.

Shepherd of the grazing flock,
come and visit me.
You have roamed through prairies wild
where my valued girl
perhaps wonders through as she's
tired of my care.
Please inform me if you see
my beloved strolls there.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THAT'S ALL I WANT.
My love is like a ship. It sails across
an ocean long and wide with waves of mighty force.
I feel so lonely and l try to see
a creature that will bring my heart deep glee.

Some albatrosses fly behind my ship.
I throw them fish that come under my grip
as they give me a tranquil sense and ease
of fellow creatures that my heart can please.

All of a sudden, l behold a mermaid
that charms my heart and distracts my fond mind.
It gains my heart and soul as beauty has a charm
that only heaven can obtain its balm.

I follow her not caring where she swims.
Let her take me to this world outer rims.
I know she is half woman, half a fish.
To live with her pure eyes is what l wish.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THAT'S WHAT I SEEK.

I seek the state of serene world
That gives the calmness which l want.
It is the site of holy mood,
Where l get pure in that clean font.

I shun a word that can cause you
A wound in your most tender soul.
That word on my tears has a due
That makes me cry before you gall.

We're born to live heaven on earth.
If not, it can be scorching hell.
Both earned by acts of love or wrath
That with joy or gloom can us fill.

Nothing but heaven is man's goal
That each discerns in his own way.
My heaven is when l see all
Live this short life so glad and gay.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THAT'S WHAT YOU DO.

You are my spring with its soft breeze
That takes me long to stroll and breathe,
And feel that life floats on with ease
While you my fond heart cool and soothe.

You are a field of prime jasmine
Where l so slowly love to walk.
The smell you waft is my heart's kin
Whose fragrance dew my skin will soak.

No one but you can give such love,
Which grants the heart long lease of life.
You're pure and charming like a dove
That no love we give is enough.

All that will happen when we stroll
Together in a crowded street
In summer and when sweat can boil
All people who hate summer heat.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THAT'S WHY CHRIST CAME.
He left His upper home and came to earth
as He saw people lost, immersed in pain.
He came to show them how a man can free
himself from pain, and highest joy attain.

Man lives great life when he lives through his soul,
which never dies and his joy can restore.
God gave that joy to Adam and his Eve
and told them by pure life they could secure.

That life was shown when God washed His men's feet
although He knew that Passion was so near.
He said the liege is he who serves the group
and takes them out of pain as they are dear.

He loved and gave, but never took for self.
His precious meed was seeing men appeased.
No agony could wreck His noble soul
when He beheld the souls of men were pleased.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THAT'S WHY WE LIVE .

As long as you live, smile to life.
It is enough that you can breathe.
The breath will give you what's enough
To think about what makes you blithe.

Why don't you think about good health
That God gives you to life compose;
Why don't you chant and make your mouth
Just acknowledge what He bestows.

Think of the beauty in the streets,
The girls that dance in their light steps,
The little children whose laugh greets
The ears to give life new concepts.

Think of the mothers and their kids,
The fathers who find joy in work.
Think of the second life God builds
To grant you joy of highest rank.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE AWAITED GUEST
When l feel that life is smiling,
and no fear is freezing my mind,
care is far from my surrounding,
I ken then that Jesus is nigh.

What has happened to my spirit
sorts of flames are burning inside,
urging me to dance in triumph
as l grasp the world in my hand?

All that's happened in a minute
and dispersed my care and fright.
It is not by chance my dear Lord;
it's Your visit to my scared heart.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE BABY, THE MOTHER, AND CHRIST
Look at that fast sleeping child and deem
if his smiles divulge his soft dream.
He appears so glad and satisfied
as his worried mum is at his side.

If she leaves him for a second, he
fills the place with cries, a sort of plea,
urging her to hold him close to her;
that's what makes him calm and of joy sure.

Who is mum in this tremendous world,
but a little and a hopeless child,
who regards the world a fearful place,
where no certainty can give a glimpse?

Eyes of tender love are found in You
when You cured the blind and gave a clue,
showing us that death was not the end,
but a step for us to you ascend.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE BEAUTY OF A FLOWER
I can touch the petals' tissue
which is soft and lures my fingers
deeper than the surface to go
as l expect something softer.

They reveal a lovely colour
which can touch my loving pupils.
It arouses eager eyesight
to see more of what is inner.

Then the smell comes to distract me
moving me from top to bottom.
What is hidden underneath them
must convince me to go deeper.

When the petals fell, l hurried
to encouter what was pleasant,
but l saw what made me cower
as the beauty was the cover.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE BEE AND THE SCORPION
Life has taught me that the snake
which can **** for love of sin
is well treated by all folks
more than bees that feed all men.

Cold wind, you make people hide
and keep their trash piled at home.
Breeze of spring, you let them out,
throwing litter to cause harm.

Scorpion, fearful is your sting.
It's the cause that drive all men
to give you their great respect
so that your harm they can shun.

Scorpion, men have learnt from you
to despise the harmless bee,
and to brandish their worst mien
to make folks bend them a knee.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE BEST PRAYER
When l sit for my prayer, l see You,
sitting with me so l never review
what l was taught when young, but l just say
how lucky l have been with You to stay.

I sit with You and feel the world is mine.
The place gets sweet as Your words are like wine.
They make me live in skies far from all care
and dress my heart and mind in brilliant wear.

You are the love l need, the words that teach
how man should live the love that God can reach.
You give me hope to see that life is nice
You are the Lord Whose face is full of grace.

I speak with You and fully l forget
that l sit just to pray and not to chat.
You say,"Go on with what you say and do.
This is the best prayer, great saints can show."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE  BIG  LIAR
I never mind the liars who always lie;
I find them quite witty as all descry
they are mere liars and their words aren't true,
so they can't cause offence to me and you.

But what l hate is that l hear a lie
coming from that whom people qualify
to be an honest man and all believe
what he says as they can't the truth coceive.

He hides great gain behind the smoothest speech
that people praise and like and find so rich
while richness comes to it through untrue fame,
and status that brings him a glorious name.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE BIRD AND THE TREE

You wait just for that special bird
That's stayed with you since parents fed
And share with it long days and nights
In ways no stranger interrupts.

Your leaves give it the coolest shade
And its ripe figs by you are made.
Its food is tasteless if not you
Have given it its sweet and dew.

Your haven is the tranquil place.
You refuge it from those that chase.
Its luckless days affect your heart
As your dry days drive it so ****.

You are its heart as it is yours.
Your tender branches make it snooze.
Your soul is one with its free soul
And both are joined with That great Whole.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE BIRD'S CAGE AND MINE

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

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

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

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

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE BLAMELESS GUILT

Relish is far from her dim heart.
No jokes can her sad heart delight.
No man can look at her plain face
Though her heart beats like any lass.

Her pride does not let her shed tears,
Nor sadness at her face appears.
Her heart is sad, but her face cheats,
A smirk on it its frown competes.

I saw her once walking at night;
The street was dark like her sad heart.
I greeted her but her deep sigh
Revealed her heart with its veiled cry.

I hurried past but felt the truth.
I was upset for that poor youth,
Who has no guilt, but her plain face,
And how can she that guilt erase ?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________

THE BLIND CAT

It sits beside a huge dustbin,
The site that wafts the smell of food.
This place has always for it been
What's saved it from starvation rude.

A little boy has daily come
With carton plate and some offal.
He waits for it all to consume,
And have a stomach pleased and full.

It lifts its mouth and softly mews
With gratitude but full of whine.
He strokes its head and calms its bruise
And assures it he won't decline.

It lives in darkness, it can't move,
But has a face full of delight.
A look at that calm face can prove
It's gained great love though it's lost sight.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE BLISS OF IGNORANCE
There is a cave not far from my small town,
up in the middle of a ***** so steep.
The people of my town feared that grim spot
as they narrated tales about a ghost.

An old man'd lived in that most horrid cave.
He died some time ago, but old men said
his ghost appeared to them when they went there
and asked those men to leave or bear revenge.

Nobody could get near and it was called
the haunted cave that all the people feared.
I mean no one except a tourist who
stayed there to save the cost of dear hotels.

The people asked him if he saw a ghost.
"What ghost !" He asked as he feared ghosts so much.
He did not see a thing, but left the cave
and went to lavish inns for tranquil nights.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE ****** JOURNEY

We said we have about a month
To have New Year's Eve and its hearth.
That day has come and it has passed
And buds of March are coming fast.

How much l fear you, New Year's Eve,
A cold reminder how years leave.
Though people with old age proceed,
They beat their drum and blow their reed.

Has madness touched them in the mind,
Or fate of man gets them quite blind?
I don't know why they dance and cheer
For getting older though one year.

How strange are sheep when they are led
To slaughterhouse on truck of dread.
They think they take them on a trip;
They don't know that their blood will drip.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH

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

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

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

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

THE BUTTERFLY AND THE FLY
Poetry, you are as free to fly
as a butterfly from rose to rose.
You don't go to that unpleasant fly
to impose on you its style of flight.

It approaches you just to disturb
your harmonious flow that it beholds.
This disturbing creature does not know
how to fly and wants the others so.

Fly on, butterfly; don't mind the fly.
It approaches to disturb your joy.
The unequalled charm of your own move
gains the hearts which know the taste of love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE CELESTIAL MIRTH
A poet not so pleased with men and ground
raised up his eyes and looked at distant skies.
He grasped a thought just like an angel white
that charmed his heart and brought him great delight.

The angel was so pure, a simple nun,
so clean of heart and far from worldly whims,
obsessed with what was good for tortured men
and eager to endow the touch of Christ.

He found himself so cleaned of worldly dirt
that stuck to him from gluey desert sweat.
He felt a shower of the morning dew
did wash away the squalor of his world.

He was so pleased with what he sensed above,
the purest longing and the deepest love
that carried him to profound, pleasant thoughts
without what fouls the earth and spoils its mirth.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE CHARMING EYE-OPENER
Life is full of what can move
hearts too stagnant like a marsh
waiting for a gale to pass
and uplift an inner wish.

Poetry, we expect you
to rekindle inner light
that has been darkened for long
waiting for what makes it bright.

When we read your lines, we say
great is who indites this verse.
He has shown us hidden ways
to attain the long lost bliss.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE CHARM OF DISTANCE

A song from far across the dale,
A voice so sweet of distant girl,
A warbling coming from afar,
All leave a heart aspire for more.

A word from far in written form
Can stir in you a raging storm.
You wish to near and kiss the hand
That's conveyed you that waited word.

You hear a voice from distant place.
You hug its tune in long embrace.
Your heart is placed in your fond ear.
The mouth-piece gets to you so dear.

Long distance you play with my heart
And make it shake and long to dart,
To catch that voice or that word in
And ****** it in heart within.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE CHARM OF WEAKNESS
I saw my father walking in the street.
I viewed in him a person not so strong.
I loved him much, so much more than before
When l saw him the power of my home.

How dear a mother finds her new born babe,
so small and weak and he has none but her.
With extreme softness she gives him her breast
and with her milk she would offer her life.

What are you weakness, but a mighty spell
that makes a kitten have such great esteem?
One saves it and forgets to save himself
and feels quite satisfied despite his pain.

What makes you, mum, the first of those we love
except the weakness that your kids adore?
You mix it with the love that makes your house
turn round your sphere and leave that of great strength.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE CHEATING CAKE

At the side of the lake, she sits eating her cake.
That cake can all her thoughts easily take.
I've just looked with soft eyes
how she can forget what her time lies
In her way to emerge in what time can her fold
either when she is young or gets old.

She forgets flying time and its speed,
caring not how the steep of her way can exceed,
taking her to the end we all fear,
but that cake blinds her eyes, and makes fear disappear.

Fearful time, why are you hard and cruel?
You seem proud that we all fear your rule.
You throw us such a cake, and we seem to forget
Where we go and what end we will get.

Don't be callous and keep for yourself little sense;
go at speed not so fast, and make fear not so dense.
We are all like dumb sheep in your field.
Why don't you your fast speed a bit yield?

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE CHOICE
Your hands can gather quite a lot of gold
but does your heart accept what you have robbed?
Your clever muse can write a lot of verse
but don't you fear its effects on the crowd?

Your thoughts can bring some embers from deep hell
and paint their pictures to some eager eyes,
but that would spoil the pure hearts and the souls
and bring you remorse for such serious crimes.

It's easy to cheat those who trust your skills
and are so quikly lost in your dark maze
but when they wake up from their nasty dreams
they hate you more than you can recognize.

I'd love to be so poor, and beg my food
and lose my money and my precious fame,
but have a tranquil mind that hasn't hurt
or destroyed someone who'll send me a blame.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

THE CHOICE
Your hands can gather quite a lot of gold,
but does your heart accept what you have robbed?
Your clever muse can write a lot of verse
but don't you fear it's effect on the crowd?

Your thoughts can bring some embers from deep hell
and paint their pictures to some eager eyes,
but that would spoil their pure hearts and their souls
and bring you blame for such most serious crimes.

It's easy to cheat those who trust your skills
and are so quickly lost in your dark maze
but when they wake up from their nasty dreams,
they hate you more than you can recognize.

I'd love to be so poor, and beg my food
and lose my money and my precious fame,
but have a tranquil mind that hasn't hurt
or pushed someone towards the pit of flame.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
__________

THE CLOWN'S GOWN
Europe, you wax so frail and low
in all what you can see and show.
You've changed your verse to guessing games
but kept for it those great old names.

How can you place your modern verse
among the poems of great wits?
Don't you feel shy and hide yourself
as what you indite brings you grief?

You are still proud though lost your creed,
the secret why you could succeed.
You're getting funny, low and down;
no wonder your verse wears this gown.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

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

What can man say, but please my Lord
Help me to do well in this world.
It is for once, not to repeat
And all of us have to compete.

What can l do when l compare
Myself with Plato and Voltaire?
Should l stand still and say they are
Compared with me, they are too far?

How can l say so to my Lord,
Who will retort l give you mind.
I've given them what l give you;
You should like them stand up and do.

I'm your Dad, and they are your kin.
I think you should from now begin
To retrieve the time you have lost
And in your Dad and self have trust.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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