OUR SACRED TEMPLES

veldor60.deviantart.com
veldor60.deviantart.com

Deep within hearts

Are yearnings never to be satisfied

Many dramas never to be acted

Hurts turned shame never to be seen

Tears buried under pride never to be dug

Words hidden in fear balloon never to burst

And so the story is never complete

As seated deep our these hidden

In a safe like a sacred temple

Never thought to be shared

Humans are that selfish

And that cowardly

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

KNOW TO BEAT CANCER

WCD_LOGO_RGB

Caused by uncontrolled

division of abnormal

cells, cancer grows to

take lives, irrespective of

personalities and fame

II

Early detection

Is needed for a fair fight

Once outweighed; no hope

So stop tobacco intake

Eat well, cut down alcohol

III

Exercise is key

Learn to enjoy monrning sun

Do practice safe sex

Green tea is a good fighter

And a dark bedroom helps

IV

For the love of God

Please get a check up always

Trying  walks daily

Standing more and sitting less

So you can beat all cancers

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(Today is world cancer day, please stay healthy by living healthy, your life is so important and you’ll save yourself much trouble if you live well)

HE AND SHE (BEFORE THEIR VALENTINE)

xochi.info
xochi.info

HE

She is the sun

The sun I yearn for a tan

So all can see I’m a man

A man who can face any gun

SHE

He is the moon

The moon which makes me swoon

The moon I need for a cocoon

Because the moon makes night noon

HE

Can I bribe the sky

To help me try

To dine with the sun in the sky

Or get close as to say hi?

SHE

Can I bribe the stars

To put on the moon many bars

So we can meet through our cars

Loving and emptying jars?

HE AND SHE

Even once will last forever

Even a day will be our forever

We will love forever and ever

So let our love last forever

Like the proverbial happy ever after

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE WEEPING FLOWER (HAIKU)

bathroom-stills---white-flowers--atmospheric-coseup-photo-90779

Pretty as flower

Rotting within, sharp contrast

Oh hearts of the gods!

II

You have soothing words

“He whom the gods love dies young”

Ye gods, please hate me!

III

I don’t need your love!

I do not need your warm love!

But your protection!

IV

Let me win this time

Let me win again, this time

For it is my prime

V

Check the eyes watching

Needing this thing you’re taking

And weeping within

VI

Just watch the nice prince

One so handsome and so brave

As to conquer death

VII

Think of him sans this

With all his needs needing trust

To achieve the great

VIII

Please hate and leave me

Even if it’s for decade

Yes, I’m ambitious!

IX

You can have me then

I’ll be willing and cause no

Trouble, I promise

X

For you and I know

That I’m a thing to you now

And will be always

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

FARMS OF GREENS

0808-0711-0215-4444

When farms of greens are cultivated

And the farmers are without harvesting tools

And the farmed lack the strength of nutrition

Chaos abounds

How these farms get farmed

By allowing the farmers to farm to harm

Beats minds which care for ready farms

Please get green farms to term

Please get green farms to grow

Both the farmers and the farmed

Must be enlightened on readiness

To get all greens to term

Terms ready to be farmed

For bumper harvests

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(This piece was inspired by the reported high rate of teenage pregnancies in the Brong Ahafo Region of Ghana. Please farmers (men who indulge in having sex with teenage girls) help the farmed (teenage girls who indulge in sexual activities ending in teenage pregnancies) mature in growth to avoid the canker)

ABUSED BY SAINTS

ghanamission10.blogspot.com
ghanamission10.blogspot.com

When orphans are slapped

In the confines of protection

By “saints without, monsters within”,

Whose eyes can penetrate for knowledge?

II

When little orphans

Who know no difference between the words

Pray and play are made to fast 

For two weeks, which blessed Satan can go to their rescue?

III

All they feel is hunger

Hunger which makes their hatred stronger

Stronger to make them stranger

Stranger to show their anger

IV

Oh who can help the girly orphans

Whose temples are made markets

For the selling of men so strange

And swept with concoction and tools

After they leave their dirt in them

To generate money for their wicked gods?

V

And why must those with love

Accept tags as orphans

When their loving parents

Turn their backs thinking they are left in safety

To profit those with greed?

VI

Oh why has safety’s chamber,

Been occupied by greed in slumber?

Oh why must a grieving heart

See the pots of loneliness

Oh why must the restless feel

Thorns in the cool physically cool blanket?

Shame unto you monsters

Suited in saintly wool

Thy judgement tools are cooking

To feed they wicked souls soon!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(This was inspired by Anas Aremeyaw Anas’s Careless which is an undercover investigation in a children’s home which maltreat the orphans)

SAINTS AND SINNERS

foundationsofmorality.com
foundationsofmorality.com

Selling sin sores

Satan saw such seal;

Saints seek supremacy,

So Satan sold to series of saints

II

“Send sinners to the stakes”

Supposed saints say in symphony

Silly, scents of sins

Sorrowfully  stay on the saints

III

Stop sending sinners to the stakes

Saints are sentenced to sell sins too

And if saints say sinners should be sacrificed

They sacrifice their sins yet to be sold

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

NONE CAN FIGHT RAIN

wondrouspics.com
wondrouspics.com

After her lips was kissed

by the harmattan

which left its peels as her souvenirs,

she resolved to begrudge rain

which failed in its rescue

and like one fighting her soul,

she basked herself in her madness

II

She boxed with revenge

and was punched by thirst

still, she boxed with hatred

and was punched by sore throats

still, she boxed with mind games

and realised the rains have no minds

Akweley was distraught

III

The rains decided to taunt her

by taking everything that it possessed

she could not sweat, urinate nor sneeze

her intestines sang dirges by drinking her blood

her heart kept rebelling by hitting her breath 

with desperation, and just when the gates of death opened,

she got to know that none can fight rain

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

AFTER MY PARTING

SONY DSC

After my parting

I hope the world remembers not

The stench of my farthings

And only sees the marks of my sweeping broom

 

II

After my parting

I hope none cries for gains lost

And that my only son lives

Growing in pride over my short existence

 

III

After my parting

I hope my students remember my fire

And use my dead wood ends to rekindle their strength

To live fearless to impact positively

 

IV

After my parting

I hope friends curse me not

For taking with me my smiles and giggles

Leaving a void none can fill

 

V

After my parting

I hope many hold hands to help the autistic

Offering help instead of disdain

Giving out a little to make grand for their living

 

VI

After my parting

I wish to look back and smile

At the perfect world I left behind

Or the near perfect world trying perfection

 

VII

I can boldly face whatever

If I see what I need to see

And realize I impacted like a blessing bomb

After my parting

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015

INTER-POSSESIOS (HAIKU)

www.mobomo.com
http://www.mobomo.com

The internet rocks

Being the gossip which knows all

And readily shares

II

As just as it can

It produces all it’s given

Like a tutored child

III

So many regret

When their weaknesses are keyed

Looking for cover

IV

Those with self goodies

Always need circulations

For fame and stardom

V

It is the created

With the power over all

And can raise and fall

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Motor Bike Murders; Help Save Lives in Tamale

politics.myjoyonline.com
politics.myjoyonline.com

Tamale is no doubt a motor bike zone but the motor bikes have now turned into the murderers of the young. Three years ago, my mother who went to the Tamale Teaching Hospital told me about a motor accident which crushed a young man’s head leaving his body jerking for minutes on a stretcher, obviously being left to die because there was nothing any one could do to save him. A former colleague at Bishara Radio; Eric kwewu, died last year  through motor bike accident. He was riding to one of the villages in Tamale without a crash helmet, reports say he fell, hit his head on a stone and died instantly leaving his wife and family and rushing to the land of the unknown. Whenever there is a rally, a funeral or celebrations of any sort in Tamale, many are those who end up maimed or lose their lives because of motor bikes.

Yesterday, I had a health issue and was rushed to the emergency ward of the Tamale Teaching Hospital, when I woke up, I saw a young man of about 24 years bleeding profusely with many bruises on his body. As they spoke while tending to him, I got to know it was through a motor accident. He was riding without a crash helmet and crashed into someone. My pressure started going up and the doctors complained that I had to be detained. I knew my problem, and knowing an important person there, I told her to get me out of there by all means.

During my infusions, another young man of about 25 years, entered with head injuries and bruises all over his body. He wanted the workers to help him because according to him, there was another patient who was in a crucial state than he was and needed care. When the old man was brought in, I begged to go to the bathroom and vomited for minutes. The man who was sitting behind the hurt rider had half of his body butchered like that of a cow. A brother who was with me also brought out all that was in his stomach and refused to eat because of what he saw.

So in a matter of five hours spent at the hospital, I witnessed two gruesome accidents caused by motor bikes at the Tamale Teaching Hospital and I asked myself why nobody is doing anything to erase this canker. I can say for a fact that most of the deaths that occur in Tamale are caused by motor accidents.

Riders do not care about wearing helmets, they complain there is heat in helmets. When they ride, most of them do not care about the traffic regulations. It is easy to see a motor rider insulting a pedestrian after refusing to blow his horn when he came from behind. I have realised to most, the speed tells of the skills of the riders and so they bask in how people perceive them.  And oh, it is easy to see these overloadings anywhere.

flickrhivemind.net
flickrhivemind.net

I know many are teaching safety on our roads on radio and televisions. It is time to stop talking on radio stations and concentrate on the happenings on our roads. I will not mention names but I will say that the youth are being made to go waste because of lack of checks on our roads. The indiscipline is causing us lives. I know when some are arrested, their families mobilise themselves to attack the police but if we know they fear the soldiers, why don’t we bring them in to help? Please help! Help save lives in Tamale if you know you have the authority to do so. What is a tree with only brown leaves on top and many greens beneath? Ask yourself and wake up, for Tamale can be that tree.

     Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHEN HER LIGHT WENT OFF

kanistorshik.deviantart.com
kanistorshik.deviantart.com

And the Dr. said to calm

They would never do her harm

But on whose ticket was she there?

School fees of needers?

Feeders of hunger?

And the pressure tend to be up

She didn’t want to be there

Dr. flips; “You can’t tell me what to do”

Her anger, the patient’s anger

Araba knew the better one had to give in

And there came a friend and an angel

Who brought a superior and calmed her heart

And said she could go home after her life was assured

And there it was

That after many infusions

And unnecessary suspectings

She sailed into the bed she loved

With chest aches and feelings of weakness

And a sore throat like a known visitor

And still, the many who depend on her

Must suffer for these spendings

Better yet, more months are ahead

For them to receive help

This life is a sad life

But she knows she won’t regret

Even if it ends

For in her short life, she has lived,

impacted and loved

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

FAILURE’S DEN

taptotransform.com
taptotransform.com

Who needs to hold the tail

And suffer a fail

When even after the uprooting of the “f”

What remains is ail?

And after all the suffering to get the “a” off,

What still remains attract another “l” 

To show “ill”?

None!

II

But a fail throws a ladder

For a climb to the top

And a no-try is static

In its resolve on nothingness

Abena, let me explore

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

HARMATTAN EFFECTS

www.ideachampions.com
http://www.ideachampions.com

Harmattan effects;

Burning fresh leaves, kindling ills

Favouring orthodox?

II

Attacking the nose

Scratching and biting the chest

Murder in cold blood?

III

When your pinch shivers

As your air wrinkles like cloth

Of linen, your problem?

IV

You’ll say I accuse 

Unfairly, but you know how

Right I am. My chest!

V

Leave my bones and flesh

And I’ll leave your case to rest

As simple as that!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

MAMA’S POT

www.kvnonews.com
http://www.kvnonews.com

Obroni,

If you need to know

Why my skin is coal

I’ll bless you now

With some knowledge bow

***

Mama cooked me in her special pot

With fire from the sun

And work from her womb

Turning me in and turning me out

***

Yes, mama cooked me in her special pot

I knew no cot

Under the motherly palm

Whose roots are pillars unbreakable

***

Nanny palm fronds lay to welcome me

As I roasted and roasted

In love so divine

To burn the gems of my delicate skin

***

I was covered in black which the bright sun fears;

The melanin that none understands

A conundrum it is

But mama cooked me in her pot

To protect me and give me options

***

I could be like you if I go by creams

But my mama cooked me in her special pot

A special pot made like a priceless zone

By God Almighty

And I’ll never trade that for anything

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

MISSING THE PLAY

sugarsoupandotherstories.blogspot.com
sugarsoupandotherstories.blogspot.com

I miss, I miss, I miss

The plays which lived in the past

When the sun went to sleep

All the children gathered to play in a circle

As the alien runs round

Looking for an alien to join the circle

And the circle sang this song

“Antowankire ei!

Tinkon!

Dwaaso mankani

Tinkon!

ɛtↄ a ne yɛ diee

Tinkon!

Yɛnni ne kwa

Tinkon!

Tinkon kon kon!

Tinkon!”

II

Then colonialism came with it

An alien play song

Which required hide and seek

“Jack where are you?

I’m here!

Jack where are you?

I’m here!”

III

Now there’s none

Ipods are taking over computers

And now fears the existence of palmtops

As human plays flee

To make way for thing plays

Even Ananse nights have been killed

As Grandma’s are obsessed with telenovelas

I miss, I miss, I miss

Those times when eyes met eyes

And mouths spoke to ears

As hands touched bodies

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Alice’s Wonderland Deconstructed

Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit

Life as a Void Consisting of Only Time and Eternity

Black Unicorn Rising

An exploration of Emptiness, Nothingness, Inner and Outer spheres/realms of being

Do women occupy the inner sphere/sanctum of purity? Is the enclosed female space a sign of sanctity whereas the open hinged male space the spirit of adventure? Are women contained by societal definitions of femininity resulting in us being “Birds in Gilded Cages”.  What is the extent of the power we have as women to define ourselves?

Katrin Sigurdardottir’s piece “Boiserie” explores many levels of existence. The enclosed room a replica in white of the Hotel de Cabris located in the Wrightsman galleries of the Met brings to mind a sense of the finite and infinite. As I observed visitors who thought they would be able to see their friends on the other side of the windows, they quickly realized the panes were security glass, meaning one could look…

View original post 1,253 more words

DO THE REQUIRE

Tortoise

Carrying the heaviest house

Knowing it can’t compete a sick mouse

The tortoise still moves in search

Of its daily manna

II

Knowing a step-on is its horrid accident

And the steppers would never give it a lament

The ant still moves in search

Of its daily manna

III

Even the lions know their Zions

Can be burnt with just a hot iron

But they still chase rats

Who are chased by the hunter’s fire

IV

So feel the fire

To meet the require

To get your desire

Instead of sitting tied by a lazy wire

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHEN PAIN GNAWS

You hold my thighs

When you hear my sighs

And you see dark drawing dawn nigh

But your bites tend to be high

II

What, to you, I did

That you’ve placed on my head a bid

That none can cancel, not even God forbid!

Makes me search for balms God hid

III

Please leave me be

Stop the pain and let my eyes close

Stop the hurt and let my head go

Into sleep so deep to give me a revival

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

BLACK STARS OUTSHINE GUINEA

vibeghana.com
vibeghana.com

Behold Ghana

Has lifted the Banner

And though the Savannah

Rather listens to adverts of Sultana

And Guinea has a Forfana

Hearts are beaming

Hypocritically leaning 

Praying for their continuing

And eventual winning

II

They are the famous Black Stars

Who shine bright even in the dark

Disappointing pessimists till their mouths are ajar

A play of beauty, they give goals in abundance

I know I hail in my heart

Others too hail in their hearts

Mouths don’t say

But hearts feel the ray

Of the great great play

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

AFTER THE GONG HIT (SONG)

imgde67c856zik5zj

I’ll put you in a song

Where you really belong

From when you came along

To the time you run along

CHORUS

For you were the rain

Which promised me gain

But drove me insane

In a long short lane

II

You said you were among

Those who many do long

Because your sweet sweet song

Does chime the heart’s ding dong

CHORUS

But you were the rain

Which promised me gain

But drove me insane

In a long short lane

III

After you beat the gong

In the middle you throng

You really did me flung

Into the dirty Pong

CHORUS

Oh you were the rain

Which promised me gain

But drove me insane

In a long short lane

IV

Didididi ding dong

Oh God who hears this song!

Send him where he belongs

I sing many gong dongs

CHORUS

For he was the rain

Which promised me gain

But drove me insane

In a long short lane

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THE RUTHLESS POLICEMAN

panpan.deviantart.com
panpan.deviantart.com

Who gave it breath?

To eat and live

And act like the wolf

Which eats beings without fangs?

II

Who gave it eyes

To see all colours

To judge and harm

Souls of beings with no known knives?

III

Who wore it clothes

To make it perfect

To taunt all beings

Who’re being flogged by poverty?

IV

Who gave it arms

To force and tie beings

With the aim of stifling

To seize most breaths?

V

Who gave it those unseen fangs

To destroy at a glance without mercy?

I just had to ask again

Although it does some good,

It is the ruthless policeman of all times

What beings call society

Is now the caretaker of all mentalities

Causing fear and panic among responsibles

Knowing not what troubles

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHEN OUR DAYS GO TO SLEEP

bing.com
bing.com

When our days go to sleep

And end our wondering which is so steep

I know we will all take the leap

Wanting or not wanting to take a peep

II

We assume the sound of goodness

Will give nice chairs of softness

As the sound of wickedness

Flog many to helplessness

III

These grave assumptions

Walking through all nations,

Could it be a bomb vocation

Waiting for an intonation?

Patiently, I wait for that occasion

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

PAUSE YOUR RAP AND LISTEN TO THE RAPPER

images

I need to rap

No one should tap

I’m not on laps

When impressed, just give some claps

II

I’m now a bird

I’m not on a bed

So why are your eyes red

When I’m building my shed?

III

Let me live like an eagle

And soar like an eagle

No need to act like an angel

Nor direct from an angel

IV

I’ll give you a tap tap and a tap

To get you out out out of your rap

You may not be on a lap

But surely you need to give a clap

For the one who fed you until now to rap

For the one whom you’re telling not to tap

For she moulded your head to wear a cap

And thought not about her sleeping gap

Before your birth, she could rap and rap

But your intrusion gave her the tap to “stap”

Just take it from me and read your map

Or take a break and get a nap

To think of your thoughtless silly rap

So you can call your life into a wrap

After knowing you really deserve a tap

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

THREADING CAUTIOUSLY

www.animalspot.net
http://www.animalspot.net

When turtles swim into the shore

Hoping to see the ones before

Little do they know what waits in store

If only they knew seas have no law

II

When baby eagles wait in bore

Hoping to be the flyers at the fore

Showing mothers they can take the tour

Little do they know about falls in store

III

Like the dogs who snoop to know

Like the ants who look to find

Like the lioness who patiently wait to pounce

All livers need to choose a pace to thread

For in the end, we are dependant on earth

We either feed or perish

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

WHAT IS A WRITER WITHOUT SELF?

stephanie-osborn.blogspot.com
stephanie-osborn.blogspot.com

What is a writer without self?

A writer needs eyes

A writer  needs ears

A writer needs a mouth

To ask to know

A writer needs legs

A writer needs a heart

Hands can be borrowed

But trusted hands are needed

Like the ladle in a porridge on fire

A writer is the centre

Of goodness and doom

So the writer writes from self

Even if the characters are borrowed

For stepping in shoes

Is better than a shoe stepping description

A writer without self is like a phantom who can never live

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

PLEASE GIVE ME THAT DATE

googlepics
googlepics

God, I need a date

A date which cannot wait

So I can show you my plate

Before I become late

II

God I need a date

A date to strengthen my fate

By knowing all my baits

And securing all my gates

III

Oh Lord give me that date

To know the root of all hate

I don’t want to end up like my friend Kate

Who wondered until she became late

IV

Oh Lord give me that date

So I can share with my mate

And hit cruel liars pate

After I, their sermons rate

V

If I get that date

I know I’ll save my state

So we can graduate

From this state before we’re late

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

CHURCH CALLING!!!

www.pxleyes.com
http://www.pxleyes.com

The church calls

Won’t you heed to the call of change?

The church calls through the voices of cocks

Won’t you wake to the sounds they make?

Wake to the sounds  of the fashionistas

Wake to the sounds of the “lusters”

Wake to the sounds of pastors who mentor on beds with passion

Wake to the calls of the stooges who hold the legs of the church

You can also wake to the sounds of the pure hearted who prays for peace

In a church with many groups

You have a choice to join any

That is what modernity has done to the church

Divisions in division

Like a little potato shared among the countless

Oh wait!

Wake or they may crush like they crashed the gods of indigenous Africa

Just a naughty thought

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015