I am a fruitful tree
In my season
I fruit in magnanimity
Knowing no difference
Between beaks,  hands and rot
I feed them all

But years have painfully schooled
Codifying I have been clearly fooled
Even by those I thought I’ve cooled
As my fruitful season has hosts
Hosts greater than any audience
From many colourful skies
Yet in my quest for sunshine
Rain and air
No shadow is seen but mine
As pride holds a cane against my whine
Making it clear
I stand alone

I stand alone
So alone in need
I, who is wealthy in seasons
And give feasts fit for royals
Without discrimination
I stand alone
I who embrace rumbling stomachs
And quench the thunders of every parched throat
Sheltering the homeless
When need be
I stand alone
Even when my leaves leave me naked
To face the whips of my mates
Like a criminal of treason
I stand alone
Alone and shunned
Even flies joining the demonstration
I stand alone
Unfeeling cutlasses butchering my bark
For healing
As some nails pin me into advertisements
There really are bells in abundance
And scary alarms in need
Lord of host!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 31st July 2016


Listen like the blind left behind
For hidden in the caves of soft sounds
Which creep in the midst of chaos
Is the way to decay
And the way to today
Hearing none
Calls for monsters in human butchery
So listen!

Look hard
For in the midst of the sea
Lies drinks of water
Looking hard will make you see
And pay for your thirst
Blinding your eyes in visions
Is calling for the demons of thirst

Feel hard
In the midst of the right touch
Lies the seed of passion
Feeling not is calling for stiffness
To infest with bitterness

Taste like the goddess of tongues
For in the midst of soft delicacies
Lies the perfect devinity
To worship the mouth
And make it a temple of real living

Smell like the god of nature
To know the path of demonic flowers
And find the perfect haven of heaven
Heaven knows noses noise
And plant to grace
Graces which embrace


Each being is a problem
A problem with a formula
A formula which stands as key
To unlock at appropriate times
For all to see
So I am studying hard

Like maths
There are those like simple sets
Those like easy fractions
Those like intriguing surds
Those like scary simultaneous equations
And those like horror menstruations
Which are you?
What is your formula?

You stand pius but unfathomable
Like logical reasoning
Forcing out my attentiveness and study
Cracking my brain as it rains
Racking my mind as it drains
If you were in construction
You would be a polygon
Or all the ghostly ‘gons’ I fear like plagues
But I know you have your formula
What is it?

State your formula
And I will boost your stats
Though statistics seem slappy
I can hold its hands
And form its band
All I need is your formula
No matter how complex
I will do due diligence
What at all is your formula?
State and let’s equate
The grave’s only task
Is to destroy all
No matter how precious
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 31st July, 2016


He who threads on the insurer’s path
Sees the ghosts of profits
In the clutch of misfortunes
And wears a protection charm
Always praying or exorcicing

He who threads on the path of danger
Plays with anger
Making happiness a stranger
One to be toyed and slaughtered
Even under the umbrella of blessings

Fingers of darkness
Grant all the invisible-wish
Night by night
Like gifts on golden platters
But how many see?

Light catches us in cliches
In centres of stages in mock smocks
As time ticks and tocks
While stating the fact that it rocks
Without caring about the praises of cocks
At its speeds flock and stocks

Vanishings eat our fleshes
Like stingy cats on scarce meat
In famine
Drawing no attention until
Their forks reach our docks
Making “had I known”
The most spoken phrases
In unclassable mouths
How cruel the world stands!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 31st July, 2016

2016 Barcamp Tamale at GNAT Hall a Huge Success

2016 Barcamp Tamale came off at the GNAT hall in Tamale on 30th July, 2016 with over 200 people in attendance. The motto was as usual “Vim” and “More Action, Less Talk” with the theme “Empowering the Youth for a Productive Nation”.  Many mentors from Agriculture to Humanities to Aeronautics mentored participants who left satisfied and motivated. Senyo Kpelly, Ruka Yaro, Hikmat Baba Dua, Abdul-Mumin Damba Tahidu, Victor Pul, Nafisa Adams, Carole Donkers, Nana Kyei, Ken Kubugu, Abdul-Mumin Yussif, Ibrahim Mustapha, Yaw Adu-Gyamfi, Innocent Kafembe, Peter Kwarteng, Udit Shetty, Geoffrey Buta, Nana Kojo Bartels, Timothy Akanpabadai were the capable mentors. 2016 Barcamp Tamale was sponsored by TigoGhana and Tafta, Savannah Signatures, Hopin Academy. There was the open floor which was the starter, breakfast, speed mentoring, lunch and another group mentoring. All mentees left satisfied and well networked. Speaking to Ato Ulzen Appiah who is the director for GhanaThink Foundation he said:

It was great to see an impressive diversity of #bctamale participants, many who participated for the first time. We had over 15 mentors who have gotten rave reviews from the mentees. This is the 6th Barcamp in Tamale and the fulfilling thing is that, some participants from the first one in 2011 mentored today. This signify growth.

It was indeed a successful programme and the organisers: Maccarthy Lomotey, Peter Awin, Nashiru Muntasir. Yakubu H. Yakubu, Kofi Larbi, could not ask for more. The breakfast was cool and lunch was delicious. Below are pictures from the event.

IMG_1737 IMG_1736 IMG_1734 IMG_1724 IMG_1723 IMG_1722 IMG_1721 IMG_1720 IMG_1719 IMG_1717 IMG_1715 IMG_1714 IMG_1713 IMG_1710 DSC00617 DSC00512 DSC00511 DSC00510 DSC00509 DSC00506 DSC00505 DSC00504

Photo Credit: Amoafowaa and Jaward.


I was the happy mat
Glad to be stepped on
Honoured to be lied on
And like the lifeless
Where legs kicked
Was my happy home

Even when my seams strapped
I waited to be stepped on
Refusing to rise
Acknowledging no horror eyes
That mirrored my plight
And pleading mouths
Who sang my pleas
For he was my god
One I gladly worshipped

Even when pride called
In a weak and pleading tone
And bid me farewell
I chuckled and stayed glued
Beauty packed her things and left
And my skin wrinkled in rebellion
Screaming at every kick
Mourning itself at every turn of the clock
As light shouted her disgust upon seeing me
Still I served

Then I saw her
Her, the soul of me
Crying like a widow who loved her husband
Hitting me and feeling her whips
Telling me she would flee
Like a bird
If the end of the served is not severed

There I was
Stupid old brain with no moves
Even the me in mirrors horrored at my sight
So the wake completed
And I left the sad end of the rope
Letting go my god
And breathing life into my inner goddess
I realised then
Leaving what we deem our all
Shows us it really is naught
But he rushed back
Pleading to worship
In my shrine
Not as a god
But as a congregant

The wake was clear sighted
The mask had fallen
The wrong had been righted
The god had fallen
None could turn the hands of time
And so none tried
Shoes today
Rubbish tomorrow
Even if recycled
Will be part of a whole and not the whole
So I walk on
Proudly awake
Smiling widely at the dirt disposed
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 29th July, 2016



Dig the foundation
Like a mason with the strength of a bull
Let me shovel
Like the strong apprentice
Loving her vocation
Hoping rains of the future aid
To mix our cement of need
With our sand of laughter
To solidify our foundation of love
Smile, no matter how tough
Even ants build huge anthills

Laying our growth blocks
One at a time
With mortar of dedication
Praying the sun hardens them
With the smile of affection
Praying away fake destructive land guards
With the faith of trust
Saving woods of compromise
To help roof in proof
Our hardwork
As slates of satisfaction whistle in wait
We surely can
And we will
Even ants build huge anthills

We have blessed hands
To wire our patience and light our house
Loving tongues
To ignite our passions after fixing our security
We have blossomed bossoms
To rest our heads after plastering and painting
Dirt will just be a cuddling excuse
Bruises will just aid in angelic massages
Tiredness will just call for hands to hold
Thousand breakages
Will mean thousand thrills of better planning
Fear no foe
Even ants build huge anthills

Sets stay sets
Bets call our bluff
Whips wire wins
Cries mark clearly
Our determination
Throwing enemies in hells of shame
Chaining pursuing beasts
In dens to tame
Turning soundful beaks of guinea fowls
Into chicks to ground pick
So start digging
As I shovel
Even ants build huge anthills
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Photo Credit: Google pics


Lock it
Even if it takes chains of thorny discipline
Lock it
Even if it needs nails of suppression
Lock it
As king Agorkoli locked his subjects
Supervising mostly to strengthen its walls
Lock it
And tie the red host of trouble
For left ajar
Trouble plays its romance
Like magnets do pins
Lame litters light lots of lips
So lock it
Lock it
I say lock it

If you leave it open
Like church doors on a Sunday
Know it can spill scentful blood
And call for scary vampires
To chase, hoping to rip you into bits
Or lions who will you play
In front of needful eyes
And itchy ears
And devore you in full
Like the biblical shark and its Jonah
Only difference;
Never ever to spit you out

If you are lucky
Its deeds will attrack dirty flies
Who will visit your taste buds with some excreta
Too foul to smell
Who will want to smell that foul?

So lock it
Like you lock your priced barn
Lock it
Like a golden room in a kingly shed
Lock it
For its energies to light your in
The crows of cocks at dawn
Is the only recognition nature knows
All others are unnecessary noise
So lock it
To free your cages
Be among sages
To speak in adages
Lock it
The tongue in your trappy mouth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Photo Credit: Google pics


I need a Jesus black as coal
One who protects our seas
And grows its trees
Paying land fees for fertility

I need a Jesus who lived through a black maiden
Probably from Krobo
One who had not gone through dipo rites
And was not struck down by an Nzuleizu gods
Or an Akan who had not seen
The light of bragoro
And excelled by breathing live air
In the comfort of his happy father
Who knew he knew him not

I need a Jesus
Who feared no mosquitoes
And lived to battle malaria through herbs
Greeting the palms of the gods who ruled
In challenge to ascertain the most powerful

I need a Jesus who felt torn from soul
Felt the biting of  human hunt
And felt the pinchings of burning egos
As aliens munched native names
Like ridiculously bitter chewing gums
Only to spit them out in trashes for their dog tags

I need a Jesus whose life was stolen
The name of his like in state
As the sword for his tame
One whose eyes saw his robbers
One whose mouth was shut by fear
One whose knees tasted such sands
That his head only faced the sun in tears
Despite his live muscles

I need a Jesus with foamy hair
One who felt the whips of alien deceit
And felt so angered by his natural skin apparel
Watching himself dance to the rhythms of inferiority
To please usurping and unworthy lords

If you find that Jesus
Who lived in black
I will forever watch his back
And always carry his heavy sack
No matter what I may lack
And will all his teachings mark
When he stands, I stand, he parks, I park
For then I will know his shadows will help
In all barks and roars
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Photo Credit: Google pics


Hunting dog in the wild
Never think you are human child
When the hunt clears
And its game fulls
Bones will be your portion

If the hunting zeros
And games turn tables
You will be the first to fall
As your master flees
Forgetting you were a part of the whole

If the going gets tough
And your Savannah lord gets rough
Know your carcass will turn meat
And your bones will meet glad teeth
Teeth of your master

So by all means wag your tail
Without fail
When fingers snap
Until it wraps
If you have no mind at work
All I have for you is good luck
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Fresh on Amazon “Secondary Rhythms” by Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

Introduced by Onyeka Nwelue and forwarded by Chris Worla Essikpe, Secondary Rhythms is fresh on Amazon.  Dr. Mrs. Philomena Yeboah, Lecturer, KNUST English Department had this to say about it:

“Amoafowaa’s Secondary Rhythms captures the daily battles of her protagonist Abena, who fights against the emptiness and squalor of her family and personality, using diligence and long suffering as efficient tools. Abena, irrespective of her limitations, thrives academically and morally in Kwamo Rigo, a low-grade secondary school. Amoafowaa powerfully maps out the tortured routes of female progress. The young writer has called on us all to cast a retrospective glance at our past again so we can learn and share lessons through Abena’s journey through adolescence into adulthood. Abena will make a lot of friends all over the world and this is because each of us continues to traverse the rough roads of life – yet with optimism that success is assured.”

You can buy it on Amazon through this link:




Remember, for every purchase, 30% goes to fund the Autism Help Foundation in Ghana.


Dawn is a path finder
Of what days, in cloth hide
While many losers fear to morning face
Accomplished men can’t wait to greet its palms
Still, the vigilant cock crows
To alert them all

There are cases and there are cases
Humans who walk on toes
And those who walk on foes
Taken men fear to be caught
With foxes in their pleasure slumbers
Taken women dread to be seen
With tight waistlanders in pleasure slumbers
But the vigilant cock crows
To alert them all

There are those whose hearts bleed in the dark
Those whose hearts crave for the dark
There are those aided and abetted by the dark
Yet have no power to hold
The legs of its time
And those who will do anything to hold day still
Funny how the vigilant cock crows
Without delay
To alert them all
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


If I ever truly love
I will love many in one
And the one in many

If I ever truly love
I will love a lion in frame and half heart
With eagle feathers
With the prowess of cat in cuddling
One who has some bit of dog’s servitude
Mixed with some pride of a peacock
With a purity like that of a dove

If I ever truly love
Colours will never be looked down upon
I will honour it all
Black as ebony
White as snow
They all will have
Shadows of darkness

If the selected loves blue
And adores pink and its intended yellow
I will know I have hit the jackpot
And my heart will develop wings
To fly onto that tree

If I ever truly love
Nature too will have its rights
I will consider a very bright sun in quarter
With a moon
And a sky which will accommodate stars
And make way for clouds, thunders and lightening
And still give way to darkness
To aid eyes in rest

If I ever truly love
From earth to up above
I will surrender like a proud soldier
Meeting her superior
And submit to his will
Knowing surrender as a win
A win of embrace
Of smiles
Of happiness
Only then will I accept
That I have truly truly loved
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Jacob joined Jack
Jamming joys in Jack Frost
Jackals joked of jackpots
Jackets of jackasses just by Jack Robinson
Joined the jungle
Jamming the jaunt
Jehovah’s jet rejected the jigs
Leaving the jitneys to journey
On their joy rides
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Odomankoma the wise
Craftily hid it in all things
That we may look
Look and think
Think and link
Link and create
And so it is
That man created pipe
The source of his urine as inspiration
Well, so I think

Odomankoma the all knowing
Did wisdom in all hid
Thus herbalists looked
Studied and tried
Errored and corrected
As Asantes watched crafty spiders,
Wove their strands,
As they wove their webs
And clothed their royals
And some with the beautiful kente

Odomankoma gave half
To inspire fullness
So the sun woke and hid to sleep
In the wilderness
Of our ancestors
Who watched and scratched
And formed “bobo”
Until electric inspiration
Came from an alien head

Above all else
Odomankoma hid himself
Knowing familiarity breeds contempt
And fear of the unknown
Is addictive
And draws many to kneel
Like dedicated slaves
Needing to please
The seers of ancient past
Saw to protect nature
Your handiwork

Now heads have caught on
“Bow to let pleasures pass
Or hell’ fires have fangs so torturous”
And many bow
In crooked ways
Now not caring about the unseeing eyes
Expecting signs of end nearness
To right rightly into heaven

“Cover your damn heads you wenches
And let no sins touch your men
For you are live temptations”
And feminines who did no wrong
Have no faults
Yearn to live
“Stop your crimes
All ye men
Or suffer whipping
Suffer amputations
Suffer embarrassments
Suffer death”
And men suffer to offer
Some aided by dark
Some caught and slaughtered
Fear of the unknown

Fear of the unknown
Odomankoma crocheted
Man adopted
Fused to shock
Rocked to mock
Mocked to stock
Stocked to tock
Tocked to clock
Clocked to cock
Cocked to flock
Flocked to lock
Locked for their ends
Money in God’s hands:
Money for their comfort
Gifts for God:
Gifts for the crafty
Fear of the unknown

Archaism has rocked your creation
Once in adoration
It stands in manipulation
Work your magic
Or embrace blasphemy
The fear of the unknown now stands naked
And dances in discos of naive minds
Arresting lion hearts
None can touch piety
In your unmasked realm
I cannot say Odomankoma the flop
But if this continues
You might be thankful for the flop name
As that would be the mildest
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016



Even the most disciplined of famished cats
Cannot be a meat security
Neither can a hungry toothless dog
Resist the temptation of licking a fresh bone
Like cats, men sit in conundrum
When “Akosua-kuma” calls

Let lions roar
Signalling their return
Into dens they occupy
Minds intoxicated by “Akosua-kuma”
Will hear them as bells of pleasure
When “Akosua-kuma” calls

Kneelings are feelings
Beggings are lovings
Slappings are mappings
Bitings are yearnings
Insults are praises
Curses are blessings
Moaning is heaven
When “Akosua-kuma” calls

Many walk into trouble
Like swimmers do pools
Many wear clothes of ridicule
As kings wear their crowns
Many cowards fight like dragon warriors
As many turn corpses
When “Akosua-kuma” calls

You deserve your Akosua name
God must be jealous at your congregations
Looking down from His universal stance
Seeing much pray
In temples of “Akosua-kuma”
With no regard for the town
Where time stands

Akosua the powerful!
You little queens
Who move mountains!!!
Akosua the “nwanwaful”
You little things!
Who surpass gods’ gods
Akosua the “shockaful”
You little things
Who brand gargantuans ash in flight!!!
Akosua the uglily-beautiful!
You with dark depths
Kings will ply muddy roads to descend on ascension!!!
You are the biggest religion of man!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


When a queen flees
It is not for lack of wealth
Her stool might be a hell of fire
Though it digs jealousies in damsels
Her crown might have pinning pins or thorning thorns
Although it hunts greed in ladies
Her robes might house termites
Or soul’s small poxes,
Even though it looks devine in refinement,
Killing her soul ten times a second
Her bed might have bells like noise of guinea fowls
Angered by fear
Never mind the dreams and fantasies it spurns
Her heels might house fingers of intruding nails
Aiming always for her veins
Despite throwing beauties in confidence
Her ornaments might shine in the sun
But may be claws in the dark
What chases might be invisible
To bystanders
When a queen flees
She is not to be pitied
As her dragons that chase
Might be fiercer than that
Of fused thousand spirits of poverty
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


There are those who fear beings
In colours different than theirs
As mice fear cats
There are those who fear corpses
Knowing it is a state unskippable
As what the air receives without balance falls
But there are those who bath corpses
Thinking them mud

There are those who fear ghosts
As rats fear fire
And there are those who call ghosts
Thinking them saints in taints
There are those who wish to be ghosts
Loving vanishings, hoping omnipotence
And there are ghosts who wish for humanity
Dreaming of bodies, hoping for pleasures
Every calculation
Like every wind lifting sand
Has miscalculations
The earth is a bridge
Humans and norms;
Rivers under its bridge
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


If I were a Fulani begger
With no future to chase
With no desire to change
I would take my womb
To the tomb
Never letting it taste any seed
Let alone bear fruit

Why will I another create
When the tree of begging lies in me?
It takes shame to be lame
It takes the lame to blame
It takes blame to remember the same
The same path of horrid fame
So pleasures, I would have tamed

Skin so fair
Run in squares
Skin so white
Turn to dust
Skin so clear
Bathe in dirt
Knees like gold always in plea
Eyes pool in seas
What is life without pride?

Like dogs without owners
They bite here and there
Bark here and there
Their seeds sold to the unknown
Until waves of oppression nails their breaths

If I were a Fulani begger
I would uproot my roots
And burn its debris
To rid the world of my shame
That shame of living less than dogs
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

Purchase my New Book “Secondary Rhythms” on Amazon


My second publication is finally on Amazon. Thanks to all followers and well wishers.

High school is a level by itself. It is the stage where teens grow into adulthood and elites seek to better themselves into tertiary. Secondary Rhythms tells the story of a girl who goes through it all; poverty, bullying, jealousy, challenges to pass through senior high school. Please help share and buy. Remember 30 percent of all purchases go to support the Autism Help Foundation. Help purchase it from here:



In the beginning of creation
Sicknesses were the greedy hunters of death
They poxed
Layed their coughs
They shivered
Boiled and ached
Then taboos added to the list
Until death added a new recruit

War was planted from our greed
The land which owned
We sought to own
The will for each
We sought to breech
So war was crowned
Hunter of hunters
For centuries
Until death added another

Luxury and comfort
Like lost and ambitious gods
Reigned and still reign
Smoking into lungs
Poison and lasers
Hunting and hunting
On the hierarchy at its peak
Roots are always important
So we travel back
And dig our own
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016



Time sits Immortally charming on its throne
Wondrous like flower of the holy spirit
Tasking suns to open morning gates
Caring not for celebrations
Or indifference
Nor dawns thrown rudely into the past

Suns advance to bosshood
As time progresses
Melting the weak to flea for cover
Heating the poor to cooking
Just for their cooking
Riding the horses into evening
And being tossed in the past
Like an unwanted wrapper from a delicious meal

Evening enjoys the debris of the sun
Just for a while
And feels the whips of darkness
Which sacks comfortable beings to rest
Only to rule
Until dawn arrests
And rule the shortest
For another light to toss it aside
Like an unneeded cloth

Time is sure too just
Bowing not to lust
Never forced to eat dust
And never stopping to rust
How envious my thoughts scream!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016
Photo Credit: Google pics


Times have travelled
Travelled far
But what the seers see
In closed eyes
Even the tallest man alive
Will never see with million eyes wide opened
So they speak not in plains

Poetry is not naked words
For thoughtless prostitutes
Neither is it naked wires
To shock into reality fools with no eye thoughts
It is words fetched from pots of wisdom
Ones sages seek to open
And open to pick
And pick to unwrap
And unwrap to digest
Tasting every bit of its ingredients
To get all its tastes

Conversations desire no riddles
Words flow and walk anyhow without modelling
Poetry is like wines of riddles
Which model on stages of the learned
Their frame so beautiful
Their clothings so dense
Their strikes burdens to thinking heads

If poetry were a sky
It would be a moonless sky
With clouds
Which need time and patience
As minds battle through dawn
To light the sun of understanding
To fetch its clear colours

If poetry were water
It would be clouds
It takes so much to get down
To bless the earth
In understanding and fertility

Every hand which learns can write
Every mouth with sound can speak
But true poets, like spiders, weave their words in clothes of wisdom
Hiding intriques
In high corners of thoughts’ skies
Begging to be chased
And used

Poetry is no child’s play
It plys no roads of loose mouths
And thoughtless tongues
It is reserved
Reserved only for the dignified
Branding non-thinkers weak
As they lose their ways to their entrance
Never finding their routes

Poems are gems
Hidden in cages of words
Legs of veins
Chase through darks
Hands of blood
Tear through webs
Skulls so strong crack to reach
It sure is medicine for elitist minds
Scribes of the future
Paintings of reflections
Which when unravelled
Remedy to bless
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016



#Barcamp #Tamale is networking the best of Tamale on #July30.
#Bctamale is a day of learning, sharing, networking and mentoring.

What to expect?
Mentoring by professionals or entrepreneurs.
Networking with likeminded individuals – you could find your business or project partner
Celebrating some of the best of Tamale and beyond
Breakout sessions that you can also lead

Register via https://t.co/7L2Bmmg7PF

Credit: The Barcamp team