Mikemos
42/M/Nigeria
Michael N. Moses aka MikeMos is a skilled Town Planner, Business Manager, and Writer. He combines expertise in urban development and strategic management with a passion for storytelling, often exploring themes of resilience and purpose through his writing
The pain she bore soared past the skies—
A silent storm of anguish,
An endless ache of anxious nights,
A river of sorrow
Etching wounds too deep for her soul to seal.
By day, by night, she longed—
Not for riches, nor for fame,
But for a hand, a voice, a gaze
To break the hush of loneliness.
Her mind, a drum of ceaseless ache,
Beating with the weight of absence.
Words, so often spoken, failed her.
What she sought was not in praises,
But in presence—
A smile, a laugh,
A touch that said, I see you.
She hungered and thirst for those echoes of love,
Yet they drifted,
Distant as fading dreams.
Oh, who can deny the power
Of hearts that truly meet?
She yearned for a love
Unmeasured, unconditional—
Born not of want,
But of reflection,
A mirror of the Divine.
But love betrayed her lips and lingered
Far from those she gave her heart.
Each passing day
Her sorrow deepened in quiet rooms—
A burden too heavy,
A wound too silent.
Time, that thief, moved swiftly.
Moments vanished
Like the shimmer of morning stars.
And when her breath dissolved into silence,
She lay still—
Finally untouched by ache.
Then they came.
Songs filled the air,
Melodious epistle,
Soft tears watered the earth.
Words flowed—
The same sweet words she once waited for,
Now poured out
To ears that could no longer hear.
If only they had known:
Healing does not always come in pills or prayers.
Sometimes, it lives in eye contact,
In a hand held tight,
In the warmth of saying, I'm here.
So love—while you can.
Touch, when touch is needed.
Speak the softness your heart holds.
Visit often.
For we breathe borrowed air,
And time never waits for us.
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 5:51 PM UTC
INK AND WILL..
I am a man of measured tongue,
But blessed with ink, where thoughts are sung.
Who dares deny the strength it yields—
This pen, this page—these silent fields?
For countless tales the ink has bled,
On humble sheets, the stories spread.
They journey far beyond their age,
Immortal, walking page by page.
Words once spoken fade with air,
But written ones are always there.
A fleeting voice may disappear,
But ink holds truth through every year.
No beauty born of ease or haste,
Each line demands both time and taste.
By day I write, by night I mold—
Each stroke a spark, each word a gold.
A free-born soul, I claim the skies,
Though doubt and fear have whispered lies.
They walked beside me, tried to stay—
But faith and trust have shown the way.
And courage—quiet, firm, and true—
Stood tall until the dark withdrew.
So here I stand, beneath the sun:
The war is long, but I shall win.
C. 2025 MikeMos.
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 7:46 PM UTC
I walked through the door wondering
With so much uncertainty and doubt
How bitter can life be?
Day by day, moon after moon,
Long life of pain and misery
Unbearable pursuit of all evil
Oh, how cruel can it be before evil disappears?
This mad desire to **** and destroy
Hmm, maybe we should disappear into the deepest realm of the immortals?
What possibilities are there?
Or perhaps we should disappear from the face of the earth?
Is this the end of this impending misery?
Well, with all the darkness and evil
There is always a place of truth and sweet liberation
The truth can never be hidden or changed.
I'm on a long journey with little but no time, But I know in whom I have believed
The invisible has so much wisdom
Have no faith in yourself
I have looked, seen the principles floating everywhere
In the air, the earth and the sea.
Whoever goes his own way
Indeed, he will drown under the dark spell of the wicked
Behold the path as transparent as crystal
Radiant with unimaginable light and beauty,
Let the wise read between the lines
I understand I am a man of impure lips
But wisdom has taught me of the man of cleansing,
I will not be devoured.
Dec 4, 2023
Dec 4, 2023 at 7:31 AM UTC
I have a little store;
Yet much I give,
They gather so much a wealth,
My mind never craves;
For the earth will perish,
But love never dies.
The Maker of man is wise,
The rich and the poor,
We are all pilgrims;
Their soul only craves gratification,
Yet, no princely pomp,
And no wealthy store,
Can give that which we own not,
I am at peace with my lot.
I gazed upon the skies,
Much is being done;
Under the sun,
Lies the pains of many;
The earth never has enough for greed,
They gather so much,
I little have, yet I seek no more,
My soul is content,
Beaming with eternal happiness.
Perhaps time will tell,
We all will be there.
Yes, death comes to us all;
The rich and the poor,
Pain and misery are ever-present,
At the door of every man.
As for me, my heart is pure,
I laugh not at another's loss,
That day comes to us all.
I am rich with little store;
Many they have yet still crave.
My mind is must content,
For the earthly bliss
Only last for a night
But love never dies
Perhaps all that we need.
We all can tell,
The abundance of the earth,
Only can meet our needs,
To care and give,
Yet not for our greed,
For what is earthly pleasure?
Wealth or fame?
Certainly, they fade away
Like the stars of the morning
And her glory passing away.
May 23, 2022
May 23, 2022 at 2:57 PM UTC
Happiness is.....
The sound of rock cracking
The sound of waves blowing
The taste of fresh cake
The smell of food cooking
The touch of slime on a plate
The sight of the shinning sun
The sound of people playing.
C. 2021 Gad Moses.
Nov 17, 2021
Nov 17, 2021 at 4:54 PM UTC
The day light is fading away
The moon is unveiled,
Spreading her light abroad,
With her beauty revealing
the Makers love,
We are the sons of God.
In the calmness of the night,
When the universe goes to sleep,
Lies in the heart of many the
deepest melancholy,
A time when the soul
feels most alone.
Oh my soul listen to the
tunes of my heart,
Restless and breathless,
Give life to my voice,
And bid the aching heart farewell,
And sooth the pensive visionary mind.
Listen O God, where are you
I am incomplete without you.
Like the sky, alone in the gloom,
A sad dark night without the moon,
Your words are healing magic,
Like the abode of the stars,
It is most beautiful and soothing.
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 8:53 AM UTC
The earth is bleeding,
Upon our hearts her tears are shed,
It is ruined, damaged, and destroyed,
One can tell even without divine interpretation,
Like burning of a flame,
And fading away of stars of the morning,
Her glory is passing away,
Swiftly like labour pains,
At the hearing of the cry of the baby.
Avid for a breath of fresh air,
He walked away from the world around him,
Deep down his soul appear calmness beyond his words to tell,
As he walked through the woods,
Leaving behind the miseries and pains the world brings,
With the pleasant sound of nature,
And beautiful colourful birds in the woods,
Speaking to him the truth of the matter,
The present reality and the future beyond,
His soul finds peace in a walk with nature.
To him is better to be alone,
Than dine in congregation of the unwise,
Attuned to the completeness of his own presence,
The absence of the outside world amounts nothingness,
Somewhere inside his heart,
Seems to reveal a hidden truth,
Separated from each others doom,
He can tell from the truth in the infallible ancient book,
Salvation draweth nigh.
Shall he cling unto the world,
His heart only will fail him,
For a wicked world has nothing to offer,
By day or by night,
Hate and violence just increases,
He can tell without much doubt,
The world is full of anxiety,
Folks who do not understand,
But walks only in the things of flesh,
Self gratification and indulgence.
Only a few understands mercy,
The throng for granted has taken grace unmerited,
With thousand more sleeping and uniting in all that fails,
At his solitude walk he affirmed true peace is divine,
A joy the world can't give,
His journey into the morrow unseen,
Is the hope of his glory,
He said as he continued to abide upon the scene.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 8:13 AM UTC
THE REAL POOR.
I am that man,
With silver and gold,
Adorned in beauty,
My lot seems bright,
My heart is glowing,
I make merry with Kings,
With wealth untold,
I am that man,
My storehouse is full,
Running over with plenty.
If I have no charity,
I have nothing,
If I have no love,
I have nothing,
If I have no kindness,
I have nothing,
Though I have all the wealth,
If I attend not the needs of Mankind,
I have nothing,
I am that man,
Silver nor gold,
I have none,
I have little store,
My tent is pitched,
Among the poor,
I am that man,
My lot is little,
I have no plenty.
If I have charity,
I have something,
If I have love,
I have something,
If I have kindness,
I have something,
Though I am poor,
If I attend the needs of Mankind,
I have something.
Dec 13, 2020
Dec 13, 2020 at 1:47 AM UTC
The year has come and gone,
Will the later appear,
Better than the former?
I wish we could tell,
Shall I in silence go?
Like we could tell the morrow,
I wish we could tell.
Shall we in burdens of year go,
Into the morrow unseen?
I wish we could tell,
In pains or in laughter,
Today is mine,
Tomorrow I can't tell,
Oh I wish we could tell.
Let the burdens die,
Let the year go,
Amid her troubles,
Shall our little smiles,
Like a seed be buried?
And the sweet memories,
Like the vapour fading away,
Oh what hope lies ahead?
I wish we could tell.
Even in the means of war,
The horse is fearless,
Let the wind blow,
Let the storm come,
Let the tide rise,
Like the horse,
In the field of battle,
Cowering not in fear, I stand.
My smiles shall shine,
Like the new day sun,
It shall radiat into the morrow,
For my anchor is He,
Who only can tell the morrow,
Oh I wish you were here.
Dec 3, 2020
Dec 3, 2020 at 6:27 AM UTC
IT SHALL COME TO PASS.
I am breaking my silence,
Things can not be the same,
Shall all tears not run dry?
And all that hurts and makes afraid,
Fading oblivion just in a moment?
Let your ear be attentive,
For this hope shall not be cut off,
With thousand voices blending in tune,
In adoration to Him who sat on high,
My voice shall join in that everlasting melody,
Shall it not come to pass?
With thousand assemblage of people,
With every culture, tribe and tongue,
Congregating in worship,
To Him who's name is true,
Tis shall be from everlasting to everlasting,
From one new moon to the other,
From one Sabbath to the other,
With ever flowing joy,
Streaming through the everlasting throne,
Cutting across all the new earth,
Where hunger, death and pains,
Envy, strive and hate are bid farewell,
Tis hope has cascaded my soul,
With comfort transcending the love of a mother,
I have been counted,
I have been numbered,
Tis is all grace unmerited,
My soul at last shall feel alright,
In an Eden home free of war,
With every residence in love,
That know no race and colour,
Living in harmony with every creature,
With no beast of the field making afraid,
And ever flowing streams of water,
With lovely creatures of the waters
Leaping and flipping for joy,
And birds of the trees singing in peace,
Tis is true for His tabernacle,
Now dwells with men,
And all things made new.
Oct 3, 2020
Oct 3, 2020 at 3:17 PM UTC