They were once fruits so green
On trees so powerful in thought
Feeding to be fed
Decorating to be watched
Thoughtful to all
Until age wiped their memory discs
Leaving their computers empty tins
For scrap dealers and legs of children
Now you watch like your comedy
Drawing conclusions in spiritisms?

No one knows where the vehicle
Of age will stop to offload
Its goods of life
No one knows when the creator
Will swipe the ripe scribe
Off minds on knowledge trees
Just as witches fly in myths
Ills walk in myths
None sees to dodge
None feels to dock
So bottle the ill

Bottle the ill with a ‘flying’ tag
Bottle the toiling with a ‘kayiri-kayiri’ label
Let sufferers turn ‘good comers’ but badly received
Pray not to be a fable
In a story with moral tables
Enhanced by your voice
Erected by your choice
At the stadium of gossip
Sipping the troubled bile
Is nothing I pray for
Not even for hounds
Hounding innocent souls into sad graves
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) September, 27, 2016


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s