Moses Michael N

Moses Michael N Sep 2018

It was an epoch of incredulity a time of ups and down.
A time of pain and sorrow a period that many lost their destinations
A time of mans injustice to man.
A time and period of homelessness.
A time of sadness and a time of many wishes.
A time of many cries.
A time of many chariots.
A time of many machines.
A time of starvation.
A time where the cry of Many was peace peace.
A time without pity and a time where the love of many waxed cold.
It was a time and a period of War.
A time without love.

C. Moses Michael N. 2011

Moses Michael N Sep 2018

A TRANS INTO THE MORROW.

Many a times it appears as though the pen alone is my companion,
Amid the presence of lack and want, with the pen, am as calm as the new born,
On each page of my heart it is published, I am a survival, though the battle rage,
Indeed, the pen is mightier than many uncaring folks, a close pal,
Do not be shocked by the lack of my fraternal feelings, no one cares,
It is clear my help cometh from above in my strife to win,
I paddle alone on my voyage of success, am a champion,
With the pen in my hands, every cares fleets away like the stars of the morning,
Like a hangout with a true friend, my soul melts of its worries and pains,
Fading away like labour pains at a glance of the new born, with a cry that lightens the soul,
Mothers can tell of the joy they feel, hearing the soothing cry of their new born,
That lovely flawless tune of the baby that sparkles joy around, my heart rejoices,
Though my journey is tough, as on an old rugged hill far away,
My pains is nothing compared, as on a woman in labour,
Many a day appears gloomy and weary, like the man of the old rugged cross,
Along the trail that is winding always upward, swiftly I fly,
To scatter hope and strength to the weak minded souls, am a winner,
Just a passing touch of heavens ray, I can tell of the calmness that beams,
In my strife, I am aided, as one loved by his master, heavens bliss,
From a distance, I can hear a soothing sound so clear and pure, a sound of victory,
In a trans I see the beautiful morrow, so clear as in crystal, a lovely days ahead,
As lovely as it appears, am as happy as though the later is now, my heart sings,
That song of a warrior after the long battle is won, who can tie his mouth?
To scatter a smile and joy abroad, freeing many a soul of it's gloom and fear,
The later is always beautiful than the now, with smiles on my face,
I can speak without stammering, with a clear tune for all to hear,
My trans is real, my days are pure, I am made.

C. Moses Michael N, 2018.

Moses Michael N Aug 2018

Contented Hearts.

Though they are not rich as they could be,
They are both as happy as they should be,
Many in the riches of this age, are lost in the maze of sadness,
In their little store, life has never been this lovely,
Upon this scene of joy, their soul long for eternity in their garden of peace,
Thousand upon their much, yet still craving,
They little have, yet seek no more,
The miseries of life, trodden under foot,
The look on their face, speaks thousand words,
The joy in their heart, flowing like many rivers of waters,
With songs that could tell their bond,
That melodious song that stills the soul,
And purge it of the worries beyond.
Though many a times, life throws the hardest of stones,
Yet their soul is as calm as the still-waters,
In their hearts, the future beams with sparkling light,
The stones are thrown to hurt and make afraid,
Deep down the inner mind, they could tell of the deceit beyond,
Their soul could not be shrouded by the hunt of past errors,
Neither can it shrink in the despair of the dark age,
Though the looming woes that betide many,
Hovering so strong, seeking the weak to trap,
They couldn't be held with such cruel chase,
Their heart is ever strong, with thousand courage,
To stand and to win, with look into a beaming morrow,
The case is simple, and the matter clear,
Their hope is built on nothing else,
The Maker alone could make all things beautiful,
Many a word can't tell the sweetness of the song in their hearts,
It is ever resounding, distilling in everything around,
It is the joy of living, the joy of the Maker,
Not of gold, not of diamond, nor of other precious stones,
And like the gathering of the birds in the woods,
Singing and playing with deepest joy, with every single sound,
Spreading the message of hope and love in every note,
Their last message is simple,
Both with enthusiastic sound, could say,
The future is bright, do not worry.

Moses Michael N Aug 2018

The Hated Boy

Sitting in front of the balcony,
With heavy heart and deep burden, in his heart,
His mind plunged deep into his early days,
An epoch marked with series of troubles within,
Not from strangers, not from neighbors,
His birth, a threat to the foes of the woman that borne him,
A mother with pure heart, with no trace of hate in her kind,
The adversaries with cruel hate, wished the death of her child,
As though they could see his beaming future, with fear of his glory,
A shout was issued in anger that could kindle an Unquenchable flame,
How could he survive! So they chanted in their heart,
He was hated and tried in orders beyond,
Deep down in their heart, they never pray he should see the day light,
Through hate, envy, and jealousy He thrives,
Day by day and in each passing moment, there envy waxed stronger,
But the banner over him was love, the giver of life could see how strong his foes,
Enemies he never could imagine, in his heart so pure and clean,
Though the days are tough, like battle of the heart to survive and to live,
He is born a winner, though the time of yielding turtles,
They that fight in vain they fought, indeed he is a survival, no more no less,
It is true that all isn't well, at the moment the weather is hash,
In his heart it is published, all that hurts are for a moment,
The crops of the field endures both the heat, thorns and weeds,
The farmer in patients awaits the bountiful harvest of his crops,
Not hindered by the oppressors, though many at times they grew taller,
In confidence the plants thrive in midst of thorns and greener weeds,
What use can it be, and what good can it offer, it is a waste unwanted,
He was cast aside, refused, hunted and considered dead,
In his heart he discern a beautiful morrow,
In his burdened soul, he still could trust on Him whose banner over him is love,
The giver of life neither sleeps nor slumber his watch over him is sure,
He is born a winner, indeed the evil ones struggles for nothing,
With a new joy in his heart, the past he waved goodbye,
In welcome of the now, the beaming glory.

Moses Michael N Aug 2018

FREE FROM EARTH'S MISERIES.

Frantic for the freedom he long wished,
His poor pure soul, shrouded in the mysteries of dreams,
In his search for a world free of all that troubles,
His soul could find rest only in sleep,
There he could dream his dreams, of a land of peace and joy,
Free of wars and suffering that shrinks the heart of many,
The pure heart can tell of the truth he speaks,
In his real world, many a heart go broken with no remedy,
Happiness and laughter left in agony,
Loneliness and depression, looming,
An unwelcome visitor of the time,
Many around describe nothing but misery,
But in his dream he dreamed, all is fair,
A world free of men with full stores, but little heart to lend to him at the door,
What will become of all this human misery?
Come, let's go to sleep, so he said to him that cries,
So we can dream dreams, sweet dreams of freedom,
Welcome to the new age, with beaming lights that sparkle joy around,
The beautiful world of like minds, free of fake smiles,
With musics that strengthens and stirs the weak,
It is his dream world, free of earths miseries.

The wind, sifting its soft feathering fingers through his window,
The thunder, muffing even his most rancid reflections,
The waves, cleansing his soul of the darkness which terrifies,
The time is here once more,
The dim light of the moon, piercing through his window,
It is the dream world, so lovely and so beautiful,
A place free from earths miseries and worries that hurts,
It is a land of a far away strand.
The frivolous dreams he once possessed, away away it fades,
In his dreams he dreamed, the world is fair, free of uncaring folks,
The beauty therein, craving in him an never ending thought,
The lovely waters that flows, with beautiful water hyacinths,
The birds that chants in the woods, with beautiful flowers that blossoms,
The lovely night creatures that sings, with the moon giving its light,
The heavenly planetary bodies, in their kinds shining all around,
The wonderful sea creatures, in the deep leaping and swimming with joy,
The heart knows it, it is better in his dreams,
The happiness he long wish, in his dream world he could find,
A place free of earth's miseries.
Moses Michael N
Written by
Moses Michael N
(35/M/Nigeria)
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