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
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CHRIST IS GOD
The angel who could roll the big grave stone,
and Your return to life after Your death
have left no doubt that You were the great Lord,
the mighty God of ours and all the world.

All your grand life and deeds showed beyond doubt
You were the Lord Who could be scared by none.
You would do only what You thought was right,
not caring how the whole world would react.

Where is that man who won't defend himself
and destroy those who'll **** him if he can?
Instead You said, "My Father forgive them.
They do not know exactly Who l am."

Where is the lord who cannot see a man,
deprived of hope and lonely, shedding tears?
You came to us to spread Your profound love,
which You lived there with Your Father above.

You gave us what no strength can ever give
except the mighty God, Who rules us all,
and loves us in a way that men ignore,
so You descended to make us love more.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HAVE  PITY !
You disregard the mad and say,
they can't control their words and way,
and have it in for those who grudge;
with hardest rules their acts you judge.

If you say that the mad are ill;
are those grudge bearers sound and well?
Their hatred will their hearts annoy;
their grudges will soon them destroy.

Hot fire consumes their poor mind.
Have pity and lend them your hand.
Their lives are full of bitter taste;
the scourge of Satan won't give rest.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE UNAVOIDABLE JUDGE
Past acts, you don't die; you live with us.
You impose yourselves as our judge.
The decree you give you can dispatch
to the sleeping minds that wake and hark.

We imagine that no one has known
or who could see us are not alive.
Other people die, but the past deeds
will remain as long as minds survive.

Persons can be met from time to time,
like a dream we have but can't repeat,
but the minds are like the shining sun
from which we can't flee or hope to shun.

Minds are bells that always play the tunes
our past dictates through our deeds,
but those tunes are played not as we wish
but as acts remind the minds to croon.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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LOVE I CAN'T DENY
Your eyes make me adore the world.
They make two hearts play one love tune.
This tune tells me how great you are,
and tells you that you're my fortune.

They make you see how much l love,
and how my heart is no more free
as what goes on inside my heart
is in my eyes for you to see.

Your eyes show beauty of rare genre,
in shape, in touch that lives inside.
They enslave my soul ere my eyes;
the soul's love cannot be denied.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE MYSTERIOUS JOURNEY
My heart is touched by what man's life leads to.
I see him working with a mouth quite closed.
He rears a laugh on his lips, stirred by pence
that won't redeem him when his gloom gets near.

I look and think, then l feel hot tears drop,
and wet my cheeks for what poor man goes through.
He is attached to people and loves them;
they get the pulse that moves his loving core.

His train keeps rattling while his eyes are on
his peers that drop as leaves of autumn do.
He sees himself so lonely while his friends
have dropped to land so queer and disappeared.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
All rights reserved
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FAITH AND PRINCIPLES
Love, your charm is stronger than
sound of *** that can't announce
its existence in a world
where flag wavers love their house.

What has Europe shown the world
but great lack of self respect,
women **** in public sites,
"protest or sheer *** request?"

When with Christ, it was so great.
Now with Satan, no effects,
needing people not their own
while they have their futile ***.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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DON QUIXOTE, A COMMON SIGHT
There are few persons who are mighty knights.
The others are too frail and fear the cats,
but all will share the wish to have great strength
that should be proved before they meet their death.

Don Quixote, l see you in most men
who try so hard to build a new Big Ben,
but hunger bites their stomachs and their horse
which gets too weak to trot or the street cross.

Poor man, you have a dream and don't accept
to pass away ere grasping your concept.
You pass with tears which you can never hide
resulting from a loss you can't abide.
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
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THE TRINITY
It's not so nice for me to stay alone;
I see no one around to share my tone.
I go to my dear desk and precious pen
and shelter in my thoughts and what l ken.

I find myself quite involved with my word
which looms up as a rhyme which charms my mind.
I love this song and it in turn loves me.
We get together such a trinity.

I'm vastly happy now, and read my verse.
It speaks with me and l with it converse.
We share deep love and love gets here a third.
They speak with me and by them l am heard.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HOWEVER YOU ARE, CALL CHRIST.
Don't let your time go by, and you are shy
to meet your Lord, Who is in His high sky.
You can get pure today, not every day
as the pandemic can block your locked way.

You could be in great danger and no one
could approach your locked room to hear your moan.
How would you feel while you would like a priest
to hear your voice to endow you some rest.

Life can distract your mind, but death is near.
Be always clean to shun a greater fear.
The Lord is always prompt when you call Him,
but you don't call when you're not pure and calm.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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IS *** A MERE NEED?
I am surprised how some can practise ***
as something normal just another sense.
They eat and drink and *** is quite like that,
a usual thing in life, a normal act.

I wonder why all people hide those parts
and keep them unseen under opaque pants.
They don't hide breathing noses or their mouths;
does that mean nothing to your minds and thoughts?

How can love be fulfilled when it is deep?
Is there no special touch for love to reap?
What can we keep quite private for that one,
who really gives their heart, a she or man?
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
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MY DEAREST FRIEND EVER
Father Denis, you are dear to me.
You are in my heart, where you will be
till the end of life and in the skies
where l'll rush to you with weeping eyes.

You informed me my religious thoughts,
all my English and set right my faults.
You taught me for school and my degree;
teaching me was all completely free.

I recall what was my big mistake;
my blind anger made me you forsake.
You departed and l wasn't kind
and your journey was the last on land.

I endeavoured to correct my act,
but it was too late, a sordid fact.
You are in the sky; l love you much.
In the afterlife, l mend my breach.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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ISN'T THAT A PROOF?
My Lord, You taught Your men for just three years,
but could establish what no man can do.
They ate the bread and drank the wine, You changed
Into Yourself to be a complete You.

A person eats Your Sacrament and gets
a Christ through Whom You can instruct and speak.
Those people can achieve Your will on earth,
and each can fulfil Your way to the peak.

These deeds have proved You are the Lord, my God,
Who can perform His work from His great height.
Through miracles You live in lots of men,
and from Your heaven, You can shine Your light.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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PRAYING NEEDS DEEP MUSE.
The sun is making my path clear.
I should enjoy my cheerful way.
The time is still an early morn,
and night appears so far away.

I'm meeting my most glorious Friend
Whose smile will make my life so calm.
He can create the state of mind
that only verse can feel its balm.

To think of Christ and see His way
is not an easy aim to have.
Nothing can make you reach this state
except the deepest muse and love.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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
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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
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EACH HAS HIS TRAITS.
Snail, don't wish for wings; a dog can't mew.
All your life, you move at that slow pace.
Creeping up rose trees, you saw a bird,
which has wings to fly; you craved for wings.

You are made to creep and leave behind
mucus that impels the flowers' hate.
Don't discern the birds with eyes of wish.
You can never fly to reach your dream.

Keep to your slow move; it is your trait.
Leaving your own dirt to trace behind.
What the birds can do you never can.
Don't let such a wish destroy your health.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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MAN AND BIRDS
Little bird, you love your chicks.
Don't you love yourself as well?
You are hungry and too thin;
Keep some grains your maw to quell.

Noble you are; that is great.
Should the noble fast and die?
What is life without good traits?
It will turn to hateful sty.

I would like the human beings
to observe what birds can do,
and to take rifles from men
to increase this noble view.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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NONE CAN BE SAVED AGAIN.
Cute lamb, l bought you when they were about
to slay you with their sharpened knives while you
considered that the strong could not be rude,
and they were playing a mere game with you.

I saved you from that horrid scene and we
were glad to live in my small room for long.
I've brought you grass and l have eaten bread
till you've got old, and now you're an old ram.

Your age is now the killer and l'm here
beholding you but can't behave or act.
The place you've filled in my fond heart will keep
recalling you till we meet there once more.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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BUT HE DOESN'T CARE !
I know l am a ***** little girl,
but still l am a child as people say.
When l see something sweet, l yearn to steal.
A thief l'm called though they still say a child.

The children of rich homes say l'm possessed
by Satan who drives me to live outdoors.
They throw their stones at me to **** the foe,
and stop the nasty smell when l pass by.

All those well-bred infants hate me so much
except a little boy who is so kind.
He shares his food with me and gives me sweets
though people in the town call him an elf.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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
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FROM HANDS TO HANDS
The sweetest time of life is that of early years
when those dear parents' hands display how kind is land.
Then it begins to prove that land is not so grand,
but what makes it supreme are those two, full of grace.

The Father in the sky supplies the parents' arms
to smooth the early way, to elate young mankind.
When man grows up, he knows how great is parents' help;
then God extends His hands to replace the old pair.

His Son, the Christ, shows us the way, the truth, the life,
His Spirit clears the minds, and purifies the thoughts,
and Mary of pure hands takes the place of the mums.
All will make our earth once more a sublime place.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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DO YOU KNOW ?
There is danger that the faith in Christ
will disappear soon through mean neglect.
Christians are too careless of their creeds;
secularism is at full speed.

What are we doing for such a Lord
Who endured the pain and died for us?
Are who preach to us aware of that
or are they too busy building fame ?

Why don't we get married and have kids?
Does that impede us to enjoy life ?
Does life exist just for dying flesh ?
Has the soul expired all its love ?
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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I YEARN TO SIT WITH HIM.
Let me sit on my chair with calm mind to write verse.
I refuge to my heart where Christ sits on His throne.
I go there, where He sits; He makes me feel secure,
but He leaves when my heart is upset with the world.

He has changed my dull heart into His paradise.
I love that cosy room where my Lord gives His warmth
though outside it's so cold and the ice paves the ground,
while the wind blows and roars to uproot trees and roofs.

When some men drive me mad and force me to be cruel,
I think of my dear Lord, and He gives me great force.
I endure all their words as l hope to get there,
and forget all the world to sit with Him and verse.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE POETRY I LOVE
Poetry can be just pretty,
empty, showy, and too crafty,
nothing that reveals men's spirits
or a hint about life's merits.

Poetry for me is singing
what can give the deepest meaning
on a subject that should be shown,
sung in rhythmic words, a soft tune.

Poetry is thinking deeply
about life's concealed verity.
When it's chanted in a smooth sound,
one can feel he owns the whole world.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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HE CAN'T SEE THEM HAPPY.
A kind bee and a flower are in love.
The devil looks at them and feels annoyed.
He goes to that bee and asks it to try
to fly so high to feel how cool it's there.

He tells the flower that the bee is false.
He's seen it flirting with a shameless ant.
They both get mad and change their little minds;
they've thought the devil knows what's good for them.

The bee flies high; a passing bird eats it.
The flower closes on itself and weeps.
The devil sees what's happened to them both;
quite satisfied, he goes back to his hell.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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CHILDHOOD
Childhood is the proper tree
in which joy can build its nest.
It's the time of purest glee
when the fruit is of rich taste.

You give us the shade where love
can prosper under your leaves
where we hear the cooing dove
sing the love which in it heaves.

We grow up and life gives us
lots of gifts to cheer and rove,
but we feel the joyful sense
is still inside childhood's cove.

Childhood, time of true delight,
life's white moments with you hide.
Christ wants all to dress as white
ere they dwell in His pure land.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
Eyes that can see what
lives inside my heart
send their ray to me,
which l love to see.

This enslaving ray
in my core will stay,
giving me a breeze
that won't leave with ease.

Love at that first sight
some say it is right,
but l say it's true
since my eyes saw you.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THERE ARE STILL WHO AMEND.
They tell me life gets crowded with knaves.
I agree as l meet lots of them.
Like the weeds, they destroy the rose buds
ere they flourish and fill land with smell.

The world squirms tired of what they do
for no reason but to please themselves.
Others look with disgust at their filth,
but the harm which they cause revives them.

I wonder how the world can forgive,
and the honest with them can survive.
A soft voice in my mind assures me
life can't get quite void of who amend.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE EWE AND THE GOAT
Once, a sheep quite fat was forced to jump.
Its posterior fatty tail went up.
Near her was a goat that giggled long.
"Shame on You," she said to that poor ewe.

The reserved and timid sheep was sad
for a few unhappy days of shame
till the shepherd wanted to know why.
She surprised him when he heard her tale.

"Don't be shy," he said,"my decent sheep.
Look at her at any time you like.
You will know that you were seen for once,
but she makes a show of self and laughs."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

HOW TO CREATE HAPPINESS
Try to get the feeling that
you are loved by Jesus Christ.
You will see your soul is clear,
and all life will be so dear.

You will hear yourself croon
the same song whose lovely tune
charmed you when you were a child
when your mother sang and smiled.

You will feel the world will go
to an endless time with you,
and the sky with all its space
will reside in your small house.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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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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THE MAGIC WEALTH
A wizard was born in a town
where plants are rare and grass not grown.
The people were too poor and weak,
depending on nothing but luck.

He wrought a spell and them could tell:
it had the luck that them would fill
with gold and food and what they would
if they knew where the spell he hid.

They left all what could reduce want
and started solving that new knot.
Their state got worse with much more loss
but could not that spell come across,

Years passed and their state got so bad.
A man among them had some mind.
He told them that the magic wealth
would bring them none but horrid death.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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DON'T WORRY.
Behold the birds; they do not care,
and God protects their chicks and nest.
They fly and sing most lovely songs
and come to their nest which is safe.

If they are scared by what may come,
they can't go out to eat and feed,
and God will be upset with them
for lack of trust in that great Guard.

God says,"Don't worry my dear birds,
I allow just what keeps you safe.
Depend on me and enjoy life.
I care for you more than you do."
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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MY  PEERLESS  FRIEND
My distinguished Lord is such a Friend,
Who can dress my world in a sweet hue.
When l think of Him, my world will smile
even if my eyes are streaming tears.

Now and then, l may feel scared and lost
like a sailor on his straying boat
in the middle of a raging sea.
When l recall Him, l see my shore.

He bestows me trust l never have.
Fear of life becomes a purring cat.
Where can l encounter such a Friend.
If on other planets, l'll go there.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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THE NIGHT BEFORE THE FEAST
Approaching feast, your night before is great.
We expect all the pleasure we await.
You are not born, so you can't go so soon.
We dream of your nice pleasure and your boon.

You  are the day on which we all are thrilled
and have the meals we love where cooks are skilled.
We meet the girls whose eyes are full of love,
but coy to say what they ask from above.

How great is life when we look forward to
the sparks of joy that fill the coming view.
We wait for what can fill the heart with life
as all the prospects are with joy so rife.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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IS IT WORTHWHILE?
You may imagine l'm out of my brain,
but wisdom may be had from those insane.
No gain can equal that you feel quite pure
and free from care with nothing to endure.

No *** is used without a base of love
as love makes mates just one blessed from above.
Since they feel so, they can build one great home,
and nothing between them can arouse blame.

How can one touch the other's secret parts
that are related to deep love and hearts,
and then feels that his mate's a usual one
with nothing shared between or nothing done.

What can *** give if it is not for good.
It yields a touch that lasts a mere second.
Then blame begins to build up and to mount;
it brings remorse that makes you feel you're dirt.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
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LIFE WAS IN THEIR HANDS.
Once, l went to see the pool of ducks
where the flower trees were green and red.
On a bench, l saw a mid-aged man,
sitting with a woman of his age.

They were blind to what there were around.
Just they could behold their precious wealth.
Life lay docile in their shy, meek hands;
they were just aware of what was there.

They did not discern that l was near
and were quite involved in their own dreams,
but their faces could unfold that life
could be gained by such a grasp of hands.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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I FEAR REMORSE
I have a heart that can't behold a ram,
so proud of its long horns, the strength it has,
thrown on the ground giving some hopeless kicks,
slain by the hands that love the ****** mud.

May God protect me from those kinds of deeds
whose impact will assault my thoughtful mind.
They will invade my dreams and tranquil sleep
and give me sleepless nights full of regret.

My heart is not begotten to cause pain
or make a creature weep his broken heart.
I do my best to plant a smile around
to please my heart and rid me of remorse.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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JESUS SPEAKS TO A YOUNG MAN.
Do not pray, young man, but save the child,
in the boat, and his mum's on the shore.
Fearful waves and winds so strong could cut
the unstable rope his mother tied.

Diving in the water is too hard;
it's the loudest prayer you can sing.
I am urging you to save the child
as l saved poor man from his first sin.

Your great saving act is so divine
as the child will be in his mum's arms.
With utmost content, l'll look at you,
and the happy two give you delight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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MOTIVATED BY LOVE NOT HATE
When Christ came down to earth, He could have had
the choice to be the ruler of the world.
He chose to be the child of that poor mum,
and nothing in His hand except the truth.

He started teaching as the poorest man,
and opposed what was wrong without a sword.
He loved the people, and He cured the sick,
and fed with fish all those that hunger struck.

He forgave His disciples when untrue,
and those who caused His death on that harsh cross.
He could have killed all those who wished His death,
but He would spread deep love and not revenge.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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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

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
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JESUS SPEAKS TO A YOUNG MAN.
Do not pray, young man, but save the child,
in the boat, and his mum's on the shore.
Fearful waves and winds so strong could cut
the unstable rope his mother tied.

Diving in the water is too hard;
it's the loudest prayer you can sing.
I am urging you to save the child
as l saved poor man from his first sin.

Your great saving act is so divine
as the child will be in his mum's arms.
With utmost content, l'll look at you,
and the happy two give you delight.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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THE MOON WAS THE CULPRIT.
Once, l noticed that the moon was shy,
creeping slowly in the immense sky.
Looking down, l espied two young kids,
sitting in a garden quite nearby.

Love appeared the master of their lives.
They were fully silent and disturbed.
They were shy to show the thoughts they had
in the depth of hearts, but l could know.

Not far from those two young hearts l sat.
"Who had taught them love?"l asked the moon.
Summer stripped the sky of all its clouds,
and the moon, confused, shunned my request.

They were too young for such a great love.
Who could be the teacher of their hearts?
None could be accused but the shy moon
as l noticed it escaped my leer.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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REAL ***
I'm surprised how people speak about
sacred acts in such a trivial way.
*** is the result of love between
Two hearts that no power can sever.

Both do their best to restrain themselves
as he fears to hurt whom his heart loves
and her love is much greater than that
rush behaviour that may bring regret.

*** is supreme when two are in love;
both are ready to become one heart.
There's no force to set the two apart,
and each loves the other more than self.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

HONOUR IS NOT ENDOWED.
Some would discuss to prove their points
and not ascend to hidden facts.
Where are they from the perfect man
whose insight lives an endless plan?

The sublime man does not intend
to appear that he is so grand.
Sublimity is not received,
but it is ere his birth conceived.

Exploits aren't achieved to be shown.
They're relished when their effects reign.
Never does man care for respect
if it's not by his heart bedecked.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
____________

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ME?
I expect something of great avail
to appear to me in my dull life.
News of hidden hope l always sought,
but it left my side  and went afar.

That man who'll bring me what's waited for
will attain from me what l can give
when l can regain my normal state
from the tears l shed, a mark of cheer.

Where are you my harbinger from here?
I have been distressed by my long wait.
I entreat the softness of your heart
to consider me ere it's too late.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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