Fluffy bubbles are at play

Tickling hormones with apt display

So if you wish to stay

Our creator will melt our clay

Into a being in two


It is a brand new day

No matter what time of day

And the smile of the sky spells hearts of gay

For even snakes which hide under hay

So wear your optimistic robe


Even lost hens find places to eggs lay

 Even sentenced cows are left to have their say

Even bed bugs persist come what may

Through spray and smoke and hurts and no way

Life builds itself with determination

So stay, will you?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Image result for images of seduction 

Many have thoughts of society

Making fem effete

Tonight, I will defray your machismo

And lock your manpower In my power packed handcuffs

In preparation of doing you


I need no hands on you

I need no legs on you

Touches of electrification

To numb all, will wake my thunders to work

Tonight is the night we embark on your odyssey

You are an oenophile

I will be your irresistible wine


I am known to be a river

You, the fish

Tonight the river shall swim in the fish

And the fish will wish no more for a swim dish

No, would wish to study ornithology

Praying for God to scale its fins in exchange of wings

Exploratory fish, swim deep into fantasy


I will start by drawing your hairline

And tracing your face Like a skilled but lazy painter

You will beg for a canoodle

Which might be hanging beyond the skies

It is then that I will cavort

Fuelling your concupiscence

Your manliness will then fall into emasculation

Still, my jubilation will wait patiently

In my fixed future


You will have a boner

Which would be raining

Millions of impatient hopeless souls

Then I will start from the soles

Into your soul

Pinching and biting

Stroking and whipping

Dancing and dancing

To the beats of my beads

Where will you be then?

In a hell braver than your warriorship?


After mouth enjoys its banana

The driver will fly on the clutch

As witches in myths do on brooms

All that moves will be restrained

Only the driver drives into insanity

I am sure convulsions greater than an epileptic’s

Will manifest itself in my car

But until it becomes a scrap metal

I surely won’t dump it

The tyres must burst

All leather burnt From air-condition to tape blasted

The vehicle metallically screeching in begging

Throwing you out will be in order

Then, right then, I will be the river which swallowed the bony fish

And threw out its bones on my dock

Jubilation appropriate

Stop drooling Tonight’s ship is yet to appear

You look like a lost help in autoeroticism

Ha ha ha ha!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 30, 2016

(Picture Credit:


This heart

Wears a hat

Dodging difficulties

In mythical thinking


This head

Has an umbrella

Covered in blessed rains

But seeing its fall


These legs

Want to be in congregation

Why then do they

Feel no move


I feel you are there

But eyes have no proof

The proof of mind

Cancels concrete evidence

Lord, set me right

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Image result for images on seduction 

If my voice strokes your choice

And my moving cells you ensorcell


Come get me


If my yoke in another makes you broke

And my charm causes you sweet harm


Come get me


If I am the witch who burns your bitch

And the flower which scents your shower


Come get me


If I am the ears to soothe your fears

And the eyes to kill your sad byes

Sweetness come

Come get me


If I am the bait to get you to slate

And the chalk to fetch you from your hulk

Oh come

Do come and get me


I am no vampire in a blood empire

I am no fantasy in your fallacy

I am no grant in chaotic rants

I am the best of the best

And reside in you I am your WILL

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 29, 2016

Photo: Google pics


Image result for IMAGES OF PEACE
There are mosquitoes singing tunes many abhor
In rooms detested
There are bed bugs battling bodies
For blood on beds many hate
There are many fighting animals like people with consciences
Just for rivers and foods and places and growth
Through it all
We sleep soundly
Sons and daughters of the earth beg for rain
In the abundance of storms
Our roofs are no longer tame
Yet, we sleep soundly
I had a scary dream
A dream that insulted my heritage
Characterising the celebrated as Orwell did his Animal Farm
Fires raged lighted by their matchless mouths
Storms wrestled
Broken by their heartful heartlessness
Their cruelty woke nature to fight us off
Off our blessed territory
Into the dungeons of death
I woke in a sea of sweat
And realised I woke to a sound terrain
Peace of mind is not for sale
They could not steal our faith and hope
Tell them we found gold in our hearts; the kind of gold their greed cannot mine
We are formidable
We are the remnants of creeds born before war
We have licked the fires of chaos
And belched the gentle breezes of calm seas.
If we are the truth your minds know but refuse to profess
Then we are saved
A mind will know the ultimate perfection Lies not in war
Another will know strength must be used
To build nations not human idols
Another will see chaotic snakes crawling from forests of deception
And kill them with wisdom
Another will enlighten lazy minds
Which hate to take up the hunt of thinking
Keeping them in sage zones
Helping us weed out dreams like those which graze dreams to ashes
And yes soundly we will sleep
Dreamless sleep, for time is here to act
Vuvuzele and ram-horn this to the edges of our minds and lands:
The time for battle is long past, our fathers paid for this season with their blood
Can you not see the fire that stirs within our embraces
It reeks of wisdom and oneness and strength to forge eternity
An eternity of Africa and the centre of it all
We shall speak our wisdom of mind freely and the seas will not boil
You are my kinsman and you are a diligent keeper of time
Let the world see and hear how we cleaned our house of secrets to shame WAR
Nana Asaase and Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 29, 2016.
       (Photo Credit: Google pics)


It was at the gate of fate
That one Osei Tutu’s grand daughter
Who is chief security
Barred some legs from stepping onto
The stage of prestige
To look for thumbs whose power
Could push their buttocks Onto the highest seat
Of the coveted once upon a time Gold Coast
Political Methuselah
Aka Agya Mfinfim
The ‘I know my right’ business icon
Tasted the bitter fate
So wore his litigation mmeri ntama
And drove straight to legal complaints hall
Flanked by many Including his beautifully built
Eloquently brilliant
Young and vibrant
Daughter of Eve whose support concretes his foundation
Amidst the jeers and cheers of many fingers and mouths
Many who believed a centipede sought to battle a rhinoceros
Lawyers boxed lawyers
With big words in gloves
Eyes watched keenly
The denouement, exact replica of David conquering Goliath
Agya mfinfim broke into the gate of fate With the hammer of the law
Slapping the security team with incompetence
Their dizziness is seen in their circling of confusion
Oh serious comedy of errors!
Will all booted take advantage to follow?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 29, 2016


As the waters flow

Under loads so low

As tree leaves dance

In higher glance

Stop the hawk and sell

All sympathies quell

Ring happy, happy bells



We are fire

Here on hire

Our greed is desire

Which is pain’s lair

We are birds

Without beds

Flying to doom

Oblivion, oblivion is in loom



No need to grab a seat

In your feet deceit

Grab a working coat

And carve a life boat

For when the storms are high

No hands will fall from sky

Never, never leave your future dry



We are fire

Here on hire

Our greed is desire

Which is pain’s lair

We are birds

Without beds

Flying to doom

Oblivion, oblivion is in loom



Sing to make it ring

Cling to make it fling

Life is a standing pole

Beneath is a hungry bowl

You are your climbing tool

Don’t be a fear-stuck fool

Fall, fall, fall when you tire in desire


We are fire

Here on hire

Our greed is desire

Which is pain’s lair

We are birds

Without beds

Flying to doom

Oblivion, oblivion is in loom

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 25, 2016


Excuses are the mucus of falling

Helping hands of failure to receive many favours

If you are a favour so slimy

Let your tongue walk your work

As your legs cross to slide


Where failure waits impatiently for star meals

Giving fun to mouths whose eyes keenly follow

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


For a few years now, Nana Awere Damoah and some of his friends have been putting together awards for traits worthy and satirical for the Ghanaian populace. This is by far the winners for 2016.
(Updated 23 October 2016 (still in progress, some key categories – such as the voted for ones – still in development)
1.       Sikamanian of the Year: Bright Simons. This guy continues to blaze new trails. More vim, Mantse!
2.       Most Popular Sikamanian: Electoral Commissioner, Charlotte Osei.
3.       Yɛ-Wɔ-Kromer of the Year: Bozoma Saint John, Head of Marketing for Apple Music. She is Ghanaian, you know.
4.       Most Lucrative Job: Proof-checker for Electoral Comission’s Presidential forms.
  1. Seetay Waa of the Year: The disqualification of Dr. Paa Kwesi Nduom of the PPP by the Electoral Commission for the Presidential elections. It was shocking!
6.       “Sɛ Asa” Moment of the year (an event that finally happened after a long time of expectation or postponements): The dismissal by the Human Rights Court in Accra, in August, of the case brought by suspended NPP National Chairman, Paul Afoko, against his party, challenging the legality of his suspension.
7.       U-Turn of the Year: We have a tie between the debatable demand for a debate after declining an early debate and non-payment/payment of trainee nurses allowances.
8.       Shifting Target of the Year: The number of new Community Senior Secondary Schools to be completed by close of this year. The number changed from 170 to 123…to 70 to 42 to…
9.       Masterstroke of the Year: The sacking of a Failed Promiser by a Serial Promiser. When the Power Minister was sacked.
  1. Most Misunderstood Phrase: Pro bono
  2. Most Hated Word in the Flagstaff House: Incompetent. Especially when used by Opana’s brother.
  3. Most Used Talked-about Word of the Year: Brochure. Incompetent trended having made an entry late last year.
  4. Prophecy of the Year: “Non-performers will be sacked”. Presido JM, 4 January 2016. It was also the Motive of the Year. Has it come to pass or it has been passed over?
  5. Statement of the Year: “Mahama’s government will not accept any form of mediocrity. We need to be truthful to the people so that they can accept challenges and not rush to make promises we cannot fulfil.” ~ Koku Da Bull
  6. Apology of the Year: ISD Director’s apology for Brochure errors. In “Beloved Let Us Laugh”, Prof Kwesi Yankah wrote about the fear of an official issuing a denial about an earlier denial. In 2016, we heard an apology given to apologise for the error in the apology issued for an earlier error. According to Ato-Kwamena Dadzie, the one who apologized for the error in the apology issued for the earlier error later apologised for apologising for the error of mis-apologising! Wetin man no see or hear or read before.
  7. Book of the Year: The Green Book. It is illustrated too.
  8. Most Popular ‘Magazine’: The Independence Day Brochure. This surely deserves a standing Ovation – no cabal things here please.
  9. Editor of the Year: The editor of the Independence Day Brochure. He or she is still at large.
  10. Public Relations Officer of the Year: Francis Kwarteng Arthur, for his damage control intervention in the Brochuregate Scandal.
  11. Phrases of the Year: “I don’t think far” and “I don’t think madness”, both made by actor Kwadwo Nkansah aka Lil Wyn.
  12. Appeal of the Year: “Momma me zu baako e!”
  13. Conflicting Phrases of the Year: “We don’t think far” and “We think far”.
  14. DaySpringer of the Year: Hassan Ayariga. He obtained two PhDs, both fake, but one faker than the other.
  15. Pardon of the Year: Montie Three
  16. Committee of the Year: Council of State. Their assessment of the need to free the Montie Three was classic and absolutely deep. They helped to unite the nation.
  17. Most Anticipated Invite of the Year: The appearance of the Montie Three at the Supreme Court.
27.   State Guests of the Year: Montie Three
  1. Resurrected Public Institution of the Year: CHRAJ. They finally gave us a ruling on a high-profile case: that of the Ford gift/bribe allegation. But their report confused us more. See why you don’t have to wake up a sleeping institution?
  2. Gift of the Year: Ford Expedition
  3. Beef of the Year: A tie between Afia Schwarzenegger vs Kennedy Agyapong and Sark vs M.anifest.
31.   Beard of the Year: Still no contender – award goes to Uncle Oko Rick Ross who is branching soon into braided beards.
  1. Most Serious Politician of the Year: Hassan Ayariga. He is also voted as the Most Generous as he gave the NPP the permission to copy his manifesto with only one caveat: to copy it well.
  2. Most Silent Politician: Dr. Nii Armah Josiah-Aryeh. Is he still the Chairman of the NDP?
  3. Minister of the Year: Abla Dzifa Gomashie. She brings passion to her role!
  4. Political Promise Template of the Year: One Man, One This and That.
  5. “You Are Fired!” Judge of the Year: Charlotte Osei
  6. Suspension of the Year: The suspension by the Convention Peoples’ Party (CPP) of its General Secretary, Nii Akomfrah and National Youth Organiser, Ernesto Yeboah after they publicly condemned President John Mahama for accepting a gift. The two officers openly criticised their flagbearer Ivor Greenstreet for suggesting that the president broke no law by accepting the gift.
  7. Manifesto Protectors of the Year: The NPP. They also complained that everyone wanted to, or had succeeded in, copying aspects of their manifesto.
  8. Dadabee Factory of the Year: Komenda Sugar Factory. It works for a month and sleeps for three months. It is still in coma, awaiting a change in hospital administration.
  9. Hashtag of the Year: ‪#‎KalyppoChallenge. #HardGuyBut gets an honourable mention.
  10. Occupiers of the Quarter: ISD Workers. They caused their former Acting Director to correct the error in the apology he issued for an error. They also demanded for his sack, which came to pass.
  11. NGO of the Year: People’s National Convention (PNC)
  12.  Promise of the Year: “The economy will be better next year.” We hear you, Le Presido. We have been hearing you for the past few years – we only pray next year is not on wheels.
  13. Most Popular Corporate Entity of the Year: Electoral Commission. They started the year with logo vim and are cruising with disqualification speed. We are all praying they drive us safely through the coming elections.
  14. The Most Consistent Company: Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG). You can still rely on their ability to show you your real size.
  15. Brand Statement of the Year: “We like it, we picked it, it makes us happy.” ~ The Electoral Commissioner responding to complaints that the EC’s new logo had an uncanny resemblance to an existing logo available online.
47.   Preferred Presidential Autobrand of the Year: Toyota.
48.   Truck of the Year: The tipper truck that carried the journalists around to take pictures on Independence Day.
49.   Currency of the Year: Mahama Paper.
50.   Drink of the Year: Kalyppo.
51.   Facebook Polygamist of the Year: Hon Rodney Nkrumah-Boateng. No challenger.
52.   Artiste of the Year: Shatta Wale. His songs are powering the campaigns of the leading parties.
53.   Most Dangerous Vehicle to Photograph: Branded Mahindra. Someone was arrested for taking such pictures and circulating them. What happened to that case? A good example of Sikamanian issues that start with gidigidious vim of boiling beans and end fuushially with the dignity of a fart.
54.   State-sponsored Free Publicity: The arrest by the BNI at the Kotoka International Airport of an author that not many knew, for writing an article that few had read. I am surprised the dude hasn’t used the hype to re-launch his book.
55.   Near-Fatal Political Loss of the Year: The loss on the “Ballot Box” of the slot reserved for Akua Donkor and Hassan Ayariga. But we are comforted by the fact that Madam Donkor has been leased to the NDC and so we won’t miss the fun she brings. We wish Hassan well as he fights the EC in court and are encouraged by his choice of lawyer.
56.   Mystery of the Year: The identity of the person who edited the Independence Day brochure.
57.   Team of the Year: #TeamOA. Eddie Ameh commented “Charlie, a few days prior to their nuptials, they were more popular than “me and you, our Kotoko and Chelsea.” I agree! Vim o, KOA and AOA!
58.   Manimal of the Year: Bishop Obinim
59.   Obroni of the Year: Bukom Banku
60.   Conversion of the Year: Leaflets to Cash
61.   On-loan Politician of the Year: Akua Donkor. She is on free loan from her GFP to the NDC.
62.   Resurrection of the Year: That of Egya Ward-Brew; just in time to submit his forms to contest the Presidential elections. And to get disqualified. See you in four years’ time, Egya. As usual.
63.   Blog/Website of the Year: Maukeni Padiki Kodjo is also the Blogging Ghana’s Blogger of the Year and in 2016, she really came into her own with her series of stories on her blog which received rave reviews and great following.
  1. Most scarce product: Political common sense.
65.   Boys Abrɛ Coach of the Year (Foreign Category): After landing the job he has been chasing for years, Sam Allardyce was sacked as coach of England’s soccer team after just 67 days, following an undercover sting by a British newspaper. Reminded me of John Garang.
66.   Boys Abrɛ Metropolitan Chief Executive of the Year: Kojo Bonsu
67.   Boys Abrɛ Politician of the Year: Nii Armah Ashitey, incumbent member of Parliament for Korle Klottey. Paddyman try saaah, he couldn’t stop Dr Zanetor Rawlings. Better luck next time, sah!
68.   Parliamentary Debate of the Year: It turned out to be a non-debate, actually. The recall of Parliament from recess to tackle the motion to investigate the President for the Ford gift saga. The speaker dismissed the motion in 15 minutes.
69.   Immigrants of the Year: Gitmo 2
70.   Disease Discovery of the Year: Kpokpogbligbli
71.   HEADmaster of the Year: Comedian David Aglah
72.   Clergyman of the Year: Rev Prof Martey, former Moderator of the Presbyterian Church of Ghana.
73.   Mansotwenian Process of the Year: The election of the Presiding Member of the Kumasi Metropolitan Assembly.
74.   Twuminator of the Year: Koku Da Headmaster
75.   Throw-Backer of the Year: Edward Sena Dey
76.   Soundbite of the Year: “I don’t think far, I don’t think madness, ɛno na mentsi asiɛ…”
77.   Tautology of the year: Akua Donkor declaring her support for NDC after her disqualification.
*Picture by The Black Narrator
Compiled and Edited by Nana A Damoah
Contributors: Kwame Amoah, Della Russel Ocloo, Kotei Neequaye,‎ Reuelah Bee, Francis Kennedy Ocloo, Theo Osei, Bernard Brown Snr, Enoch Sowah, Manasseh Azure Awuni, Albert Amah Arhin, Eddie Ameh Snr, Indira Mensah-Dapaah, Lambert Coffie Atsivor


Ye who wove minds

As spiders weave their nests

Can you war bar

Pushing love in its stead?


Ye who made binds

As donkeys serve bests

Can you push afar

Equality in superior stead?


Won’t your ingredients vanish

As your name tarnish

Calling your presence to banish

With war recurring, making insults your garnish?


Hanging pleas

Poisoned fleas

None sees

But heads with unseen thinking caps

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Hearts are like magnets

Their station, determinant of attractions

A sad station definitely pulls many to hover

Depression being the lead


Just as rivers find the sea

Just as rains find earth

Just as hyponyms know their hypernyms

So does depression force a stay


We are masters in our ships

We choose those to let in and out

We are warriors are war

We choose who to conquer


Cut the bond and be free

None can help but you

Win over your hurts and let all see

That all you needed was you not two


Winners win, self-love being key

Losers die before their time

Even with locomotion

Their hidden selves reek of corpses

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016



Time walks in a rush

With no ears for stops

No eyes to turn back

No mouth nor stomach to stop and feed

No breath to feel tired let alone pause to rest

It sure is the creator’s robot

Set like a watch man to impartially measure us

What tough scrutiny it gives!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

(Photo Credit: Google pics)


Image result for IMAGES OF ANGRY MEN

He had a harum-scarum youth

His life an apotheosis of a moral-less soul

He thought all advisers nudniks

Who could blame him when his blood sat in a heating pan


He had no life mirror

In his living workable paradise

So wore the stains of faults like happy robes

Until the legs of his skin fell in the hands to pulling time


Who can fetch the years gone bad

And fix the body its rot has eaten?

His mind regrets its sorry journey

Which knew no bliss of correction

But who will remedy? Discern directions from this, ye boiling blood

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 19, 2016

(Photo Credit: Google pics)



Our God

Is so alive

Like lightning to protect

He leads without worry to clear

Our shield


Our Lord

Is our captain

In this raging hard storms

He navigates even the storms

What’s fear?



Will work madly

But will defeat itself

For it is a foot-mat to us

Thanks Lord!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Oct. 19, 2016

(Photo Credit: Google pics)

Inconsiderate Posts of Greedy Americans


In the wake of politics, many rise to show their true colours. I know it is a battle, politics, we humans made it so, but it shouldn’t be. Choosing a leader for the common goal of development and security should be no battle. We are first of all human beings who can never live forever. Why do we forget this basic fact?

Now treating this topic in the picture above: To the best of my knowledge, trick and treating is begging. If you beg you should be ready to share the excess. Too much sweet for one and toothache sets in, different sicknesses follow, death is near then.

There are people too lazy to go begging, true, but there are some blocked by colour, there are some who are sick and cannot go begging, there are some too young to understand what begging is, there are some who beg but can’t receive.
I think this photo is over the bar and whoever drew it, with all its mischief as the wording suggest, should be ashamed.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia

(Photo Credit: Google pic)


Image result for images of human phones

Time has put something new

On the tongue of my muse

Funny, how what attract is what is

They have mouthpieces

A few numbers dialled and most are connected

They have ears

Just close to the ears or press to impress

And every connector hears

Human phones!


They are breakers

Couples turn singles with their presence

Fingers busy fingering them instead of loving

Eyes busy watching instead of being mesmerised

Workers turn jobless on their account

Drivers lose their balance on their account

Human phones!


They have applications

Many of which you won’t mess with

Be a pest on Whatsup and they send fangs to your chase

Be one who angers and you see beastly icons

Be inactive and face the archive prison

One can get nasty but many are hasty

Be a monster and you are blocked like a stranger

Never to see, hear or send anything


You will be lucky to be blocked on Whatsup

Facebook will send you straight to hell

After a couple of reports

Reports which are verified without your knowledge

Be a little slow and your timeline is flooded

By paintings gory

Rebranding you into what mischief thinks


There are games to be played

Many; cool, others dangerous

Messages are sacred for most, passwords in complexities

Messages make no sense for some, doors to them left ajar

Press the wrong button and get blocked

There is Instagram

Snap and it goes without a care at all

You can google, you can learn

The correct, wrong and terrifying

And when they crash, you might pick debt or nothing

Which is more debt

Without them, you feel mentally unstable

With them, you feel anxious for something always

Human phones

Good, bad and ugly and beautiful

But what is life without a blend?

Loving killers

They will forever be

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

(Picture Credit: By google pics)


I feel like a fly
Who hovers in a try
To steal with smile sly
And I feel so dry

I feel like a bird
Without a good bed
I figure the least said
Is best in this shed

Newbies and greens
Mouth closed
Eyes open
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Be the man of my days
Leading like bobo on a dark path
Make visible all hidden traps
Scare harmful insects to flee
Be the warrior leading in happiness
So others follow suit
A man is a breathing being with a touch of humanity
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


I have felt the sting of mosquitoes
Felt the bites of ants
Felt the bites of snakes
Felt the claws of eagles
And stand with huge unseen scars

I have felt the slaps of crows
Pecks of wood peckers
Hooting of owls
Reminding crows of taunting cocks
About the speed of time
And still stand scarred and haunted by ghosts of fears

I have been
Deafened by roars from bellies of monsters
Weighed off confidence by beautiful peacocks
Flaunting colourful feathers
Which magnetize all eyes
Making me an extra unused
On this stage field
I can’t tell my image from within
Internal mirrors show a rearing monster

What is this ink of life?
Why do many write to cancel others
Forgetting cancellation is also a loss?
What is this lavender of life
Which everyone possess
Spraying to be sprayed on
Battle of scents
Where the strongest survive to repel?

I need a pet friend
One who will pamper and care
Follow and hunt
With love in eyes only meant for me
I need a faithful soul
Loyal with aura
To dig out fangs
To smoothen the scars
To massage all loss
I know God is on board
But a worldly friend with visibility and a touchable presence
A friend like a dog
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Image result for images of sad flowers

In this depressing robe

Which whispers the fears that sadness stole

I open the gate of sanity

To tell you to mark the days


Mark the days as teachers mark their registers

Until this robe comes off by itself

As the carriage of happiness lands on your shore

And the crown of laughter graces your lips


Mark the days you feel like an ant

About to be crushed by soldering feet

Who would neither see your corpse nor hear a cry

Until you are lost in their stepping


Mark these days

When you have neither friend nor foe

And the mouth of these four walls open not to you

Their eyes creepily hidden in their shield


Mark these days when the end taunts your jump

As you cry for murder

Better still the Creator’s mercy

With not so much as a drop of sympathy


Mark these days

When confidence sits on an eagle tree

So far away from you

It is a feeling of blessing to magnify happiness, when it rains

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

(Photo Credit: Google pics)

Ghanaian Pilgrims to Mecca; Idol Transitionists or Holy Worshippers?

Image result for images for hajj

Hajj is one dream all Muslims have in common; at least,  so Ghanaians have been made believe. A person who goes to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia for hajj, washes away all sins and if that person dies thereafter, after notable rituals (worship), he or she is said to go straight to heaven.

The puzzle of this journey,  for me, lies in the ritual of titles, the fact that Ghanaian Hajj returnees, especially in northern Ghana stay in their various houses like gods and goddesses receiving greetings from loved ones and friends, some for a month and over!

When quizzed about this, a Muslim friend, Abdul Zaapayim Doo said it is believed that those returnees are now holy and exude holiness so all who have not been able to travel for hajj and even those who have travelled but could not go in a particular year seek to tap from their holy spirit.
The returnees must also cook for visitors to enjoy,  some asking for gifts.
To my understanding,  one must sweat to gain finances in order to go to hajj. It’s a pillar of Islam that can be optional because you would need enough resources for your household, your air ticket to and fro and for your upkeep there! Well, so I thought. With many rumoured to be sponsored especially by politicians and people of high standing, I sought the counsel of Sheik Alhaji Illiasu of Sagnerigu, Tamale.
In an interview with Sheik Alhaji Illiasu Imoro of Tamale, he explained that, people can be sponsored according to the holy Quaran to go to Mecca. He also educated that Mecca is a religious requirement in Islam. As to why people from Mecca stay indoors to receive greetings like gods and goddesses in worship, Sheikh Alhaji Imoro said it is not necessary. He further went on to explain that those who stay indoors do so so they can bless their neighbours who couldn’t go. He said the holy Quaran teaches that those who go to Hajj are cleansed from all their sins. So at most,  one week of rest to bless is essential but the women exaggerate and stay at home for sometimes as long as 40 days, cheered on by their friends.

I guess there are extremists in every religion. Hajj will continuously breed self satisfied and feeling-all-important idols. So be on the look out for the next Hajia or Alhaji ( I hear it is a title which means stranger), For who knows, a strange might show you an idol style or might just bless you in holiness.

(Photo Credit: Google pics)


Possibility is an accomodation in impossibility
So I will not take an absolute ruler
To evict it from its rightful place
But none accommodated
Is given more than a room
No matter how many there are
Unless blood binds or money massages palms of ownership
War is no friend to us
War has no money to give
War has no charm
That is why Ghana will not go to war

Will a Fanti man leave his ‘mfantimfanti’ and ‘etiw’ along the coast
To turn savage
Running the bushes to feed on rats as a luxury?
Tell me a believable story!

Will an Akan proper exchange his fufu
With ‘mpunam’, snails, poku, roasted mashrooms
All scented by prekese in palm and nuts exchange-waters
Or light soup rivers
Drinkable in the belly of earthenware
To be a thirsty smoked ‘kusiee’
In a hell hole of war?
Not when ‘apio brantan’ fangs evoke sweat from willing pores
In hope of satisfaction,  then sleep
Think again!
Even a day without it is his fasting day

‘Komi ke kena’
How many love songs
Have these lover edibles inspired
From the hearts of Ga fans?
No matter where he sleeps now
A Ga man won’t think of the nightmare
Of leaving his kenkey for even a morning
To run a marathon of fitness no ei sports
Let alone flee like an alligator
Chased by tongues which find it appetizing
“Mini? Kaalu”
Never happening

When akple dances on slippery tongues
Clothed in fetiri dekye
Which paraschutes it down the road-throat of an Ewe man
Make no mistake to interrupt
Especially when palm wine sits at the hallway of stomach
Expecting more to fill its cup
In this fantasy of delicacy
Don’t forget abolo and one-man-thousand as side attractions
Tell me of an Ewe man
Who would want to turn ‘koklo’
And be chased by ammunition of war?
Come again please
You have missed a step

Found as charming lice
On the head of mother Ghana
Strength blends braveness
Sometimes forcing enthusiasm to test warriorship
On stages of chieftaincy
But just as mountains can’t be trees
So is the obvious fact that a politician is not a chief
Which standing mind will leave his tuo and aleefu
Or tuo and bra
Or even tuo and ayoyo to
Draw blood for a travelling fart
No matter how stinking?
‘Wassawassa’ will not leave those consciences to slaughter without an alter
‘Gable’ will curse throats
If war holds a gun to force pito lovers
Into desserts of fear on account of negligence
Oh dear
The tongue is a powerful tool!

‘Akyeke na paya’ won’t leave westners to think war
Hands fanning the speck of fire
In the middle of our comfortable pillows
Save your strength and rest your hands
We have too many lovables of tongues
To play balls of politics
And end in holes of war
Haunted by regrets and uncertainties
And turned flies hovering for crumbs
Mouths of thoughts with fear,
Abena yours included,
Gyai ka na me nngyai tie
Ghana prides in her Peace
Because she is a a born sage
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 14, 2016


Blessed are they who host nature’s milk
For theirs is the kingdom of cuddling
The creator has created many things
But I bet the two mounds
Down the neck of the petty lands
Which stand like strong soldiers at attention
In their young years after riping
And bend gradually to be in sync with time
Until they lose all shame
And lie like flat tuo zaafis on the land of the chest
Are among his best yet
So why do they get imprisoned like hardened criminals?

What crimes could those pairs
With no bones and teeth
Commit to be put behind bars?
What crimes could those twos commit
To be handcuffed and paraded
Through shameful vehicles
To tarnish their reputations?
What crimes force them to peep
When they wish to be let loose like flying birds to explore?
God-brewed milk in arresting silk!

Forgive them today and the end of everyday
And let them loose
If for nothing
They have fed much
Been pulled and wobbled like kneaded clay
Needed for a pot mould
Or in wait to be
Been bitten, shaken and crushed like pepper between ‘apotoyowa and tapoli’
And have been flipped up and down like fried eggs by a skilled flat ladle on hellish fires
Let them loose
Let them loose

Let them loose and feel the jubilation for once
Children hopping in hope of catching
Men excited on sight seeing  spree
Hosts, free to breathe
Let them loose
Let them loose
Please let them loose
Even hardened prisoners rest from work
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 13, 2016


Another day pulls down its curtains
Sending ghosts of nature
To shepherd in flocks of day
Into terrains public and private
As a private candidate
Eyes see the bed which cries out for you
The bed which complains
Of the wasted space many are dying for
The bed whose eyes have lost
Visions of two becoming one
The bed whose veins are clogged by jerkless dancing
And warns of a strike
If its master’s hug fails to turn up
In its bosom

The fingers which play the guitar of beads
The fingers which weave hair into a mess
The fingers which hugg to hold
To wake heat from damning cold
The fingers which fit perfectly in hemmed stitches
In consumatory-coitus sports
Where all are winners in wins
And losers in loss
Where is the twin bed of this complainant located?

The curvy mouth which like a board
Displays a smile
The mouth which plays the hushes and moans
The mouth which is toffee unmelting
Colour in divinity
With couches of life in harmless bites
The mouth which travel to caves exploring
Some complaints hide in secret
For your ears only
So a pause on the toss

What doeth thou now?
Where doth thy thoughts roam now?
Are we on this nostalgic page?
Could we, some codes, like electric currents transmit?
Are we lost in hunting for pastures?
Your loss
My loss
Our loss

Funny how the talking heels
Of time hold clappers
To magnify its sounds in seconds
Until the hands of daylight hide the curtains of dark
I write my right off
Closing these ears to the noisy silence
Of this rebellious bed
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 12, 2016


You are twirling like a circle in vibration
In a river with fishes and sharks
You are calling attention so deadly
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!

You are dancing like flowing water around parched throats
In a river which thirsts for water
You are begging for a swallow like Jonah
Hey Konkontibaa! Hey Konkontibaa! Hey Konkontibaa!

Little mangoes stay quiet on trees
Praying to winds to spare their growth
Why can’t you learn to stay beneath water?
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa! Hey Konkontibaa!

What about frogs do you want to experience?
That you dance in possession like a fetish?
When the stakes of life are heated
And the frogs are running for cover?
Hey Konkontibaa! Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!

Swim on your tail to grow your hail
Until such times you shed your tail
Then you can stand to hop like froggies
And know how to dodge the snakes
I am talking stay quiet and listen!
Hey Konkontibaa! Hey Konkontibaa! Hey Konkontibaa!

We the froggies do wish for tails
And good ears to listen to stay in
And feast on crumbs that fall in
Loving the company of other tails in twinnies
But our times won’t listen and runs
And our age traps are headed for wreck
Do listen to the sound of caution!
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!

The growth fire is rushing to meet you
Do stay home and be treated like a royal
Don’t dance out to roast like ripe plantain
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!
Hey Konkontibaa!

Konkontibaa dream froggy in wait for a future
Stay watchful and learn to hop
Stay obedient and learn from your mother
Learn the safe caves and routes and danger signs
To be land proof and water proof and hole proof
Listen Konkontibaa
Learn Konkontibaa
Love Konkontibaa
And grow Konkontibaa,
Your aponkyereni days will soon knock like hell
Prepare to open
Or prepare to burn
The world excuses no carelessness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 11, 2016


Why do some cocks crow at midnight
When darkness is no closer to dawn
And can never go back in time?
Is it for mischief?
Miscalculated time?
To signify trouble
To wake nocturnals
Be accompanying voices to troubled minds
Or tell the world of its insomnia?
Oh wonders of the night!

Crowings in the convention of dogs
On the threshold of quietude
When most eyes are imprisoned by sleep
While bats and owls feed
As naughty crickets sing in unseen ghettos
Shielding no-good-legs
To transport their hands
To kidnap belongings of hardworkers
And their mates
Is worrisome indeed

Crowings to announce
The presence of egg thirsty
Death-angel- chicken-hunting- pythons
To hen-coops
Is no wolf crying
Its pain lies in the lack of help alarms
In the noble venture
How can ears know the difference
Between nature waking bells and help sounds?
Unfortunate situation of the helpless!

Whatever the reason
However the urgency
Whoever the prompters
No matter the security neglect
Whatever the outcome of the crowing
Midnight sure sees many
Hears much
Feels many
Many many queer things
And houses many thoughts in divergent state
Wonders of the world!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 11, 2016


A little wind blew
On a sandy ground
Shaking the foundation of its building
The shaking fell the building
Instead of falling back on land
The ceiling got in between like grass
In an elephant and grass-land fight
Now the land and roofing stifle the ceiling
And society watches
Doing little but talks where much reigned

Blood of character leaves the ceiling
Strength of their creators stunting their growing
Where are eyes and minds in a pride and ego fight?
Probably busy on a vacation
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 10, 2016


I have seen and read miracles
But never like the ones you do
In your unknown frame

I have walked and talked
Never heard non as powerful
As you Odomankoma

You give rains in dry season
And give dryness in rainy season
You crack in summer
Only to soothe in harmattan
You really know the draft you have built

I have seen many try to be you
Creating things with no touch of your perfection
No water can be satisfactory like nyankonton
No human can be perfect
Without your magic ingredient
No soul can touch the high peaked sun
Odomankoma kasapreko!
Odomankoma ahunuabobirm!
Kokromoti a woye po fapim!
You are the boss
The boss of all
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 9, 2016


Mirrors show all
Beauty, normal and wrong
But can’t see the colour of their back
Just as path makers see no back crookedness
So is a soul like mine
Without back eyes
Please walk into the light
And make clear
The wounds inflicted from my walking boots

Fallibility is my right by birth
Reflection is my conscience scarf
Rectification is my antidote
Care is my safe shield forward
Only factor for fix-action;
So step into the clip of my pupils
To make visible
The wounds nursing bitterness
In my unknown pot
Placed in the centre of your heart
Burning you incommunicado

Empty the dirty drum in cleanliness
And fill it drop after drop
The happy tears of dawn
Clear the fog of pinching
And make way for the sun
Transient ones hoard no hatred
All mobile excuse foot steppings
Who knows which foot will stray
In this realm where darkness is a stakeholder?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 2016


In bright daylight
Dark clouds have formed
Blinding eyes and raining heartaches
*E*ven the dust was preferred
*V*astly over this daylight blindness
Mini sani po nɛ?

Death has bitten into a delicious mind
One whose pages were enriched
With harvests of higher learning
One whose ink had so much
And was ready to hold hands of growing minds
To stand at par
One whose discipline made her warrior of right
And enemy to bad nuts
Who knows where teeth of death lives?

A mother hen has been stolen by a mythical hawk
Who will take care of its chicks?
Let all atɛntɛnbɛn play themselves
To direct voices to tune their hurts
A multi-lingual chord just sunk into the abyss of silence
Let all mourners pitch their cries
A modelled lady vanished like a shadow at sun-down
Let all guns bitter in death hunt be raised
We lack the eyes to hunt a myth
But surely, jubilating vultures can take the bullets
How can we lose one in a few breasts
Who provided breast milk of knowledge to succeed
In a milkless realm
Where strength of shoulders boxed to compete?
Let all harmed cocks crow at noon
A dignified hen stroll away painfully from her royal grounds
Even owls are shocked into soundless hooting

*L*ook for the keys to a better Ghana
*O*nward we must go so
*K*eep to the dream of youth nursing
*K*now we loved to walk your nurturing path
*O*pt to oversee our growing steps
Settling for no less than perfection
We cry rivers
With boats of luck
To ferry you safely to conquer your conqueror
And if you do
Open the curtains of beyond
To light its cocoon
So our worlds merge again
To nurse from your seas of brilliance
For now, smile at our noise
No matter how disturbing
You did it all
We just wanted more
Mama Naa Merley
Ya ni oya wɔ ojogbanŋ
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 7, 2016


(In honour of National Poetry Day)

When responsibilities piled on trucks of childhood
And stuck in mud of helplessness
Forcing my fragile pate to hawk its heaviness
Struggling through days into adulthood
I met you

While walking on coals on peak heat
Whipped by rains head up
In harmattan of rejection
With walletless pockets
Whose holes showed the nakedness of need
I met you

When challenges paved my paths
Through deserts of confidential thirst
And forests of friendless hunger
Chased by hungry tigers of failed dreams
I met you

I fell like a flying bird
Shot by bullets of an angry hunter
Broke my wings in unfamiliar grounds
Where fearful clouds umbrellaed
Messed-with bees in search of their honey
Who did I meet but you?

Oh when accusations roped and dragged
Like a heavy sack on thorny lands
Peeling sores to roll call flies
From far and wide
To have pieces, dig to tissues and fly to share
I met you

I have fallen in gutters of shame
Had you wash me clean like a newborn
I have tripped on slabs of temptations
And had you lift me like a hero
I have almost drowned in seas of tears
And had you swim-saving
Who else could make filth beautiful?
Who else could give ink to my whines
Lines to my cravings
Pages to yearnings
And still hide them in personae unknown?
Who else could make pain shared?
Heartache a star-light?
Who else could make a pro
Out of the harmed through words
And grant freedom to mind to forget completely all ills?
None but you
Only you
Wise weavings of words
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


“Asomorofi dwo a
kraman nhuru gya!”
No hawk challenges an eagle in hunt for fowls!
Show me a hawk who dares
And I will show you how its bones
Will lose the taste of land in passing

“Abirekyie nka gyata ntokwa”
The goat who dares a lion
Knows its hole resides in a lionic belly
And wishes to taste its heat

“Akura nfa agyinamoa nyonko”
Though their names rhyme
In the English world of sounds and codification
No rat which loves itself
Seeks co-habitation with cats
“Ei! Agyenkuku su, ntumi nnye aserewa daeso”

Eyes of the sky watches the earth
Even in near closure
Its nature like legs in motion
Eyes of the earth play safe in sky watching
Or risk blindness to the higher sun or its dust
Size matters in clothing
But cloth matters more
Ohuruye huru huru huru a
“Ekom akuturuku yi ne hwe nsukom dabre”
To the wise
Honey is sweet in taste but
Complex in the making
He who knows sits well on thought grounds
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Fight o fight
Fight like soldier ants at war
With bullets of minds
Firing ignorance of thumbs
Thumbs which vote for ethnic clothes
Devoid of bodies therein

Fight o fight
Fight Ghanaman fight
Fight like bombs to burn to extinction
The exchange of thumbs for gifts
To see the dawn of change

Fight o fight
Fight with the bat of enlightenment
Shaking weak fences
Which house onlookers
Like bats on comfortable trees
To fall into the chain of action
In battle for the greener heaven we seek

Fight o fight
Fight like lions and lionesses
Guarding the last bit of manna meat
In their palace jungle
From hyenas unveiled in wool,
Chameleons stealing colours of attraction to charm
And scorpions acting friendly crabs to pinch
For even the heavens tire in giving

Fight o fight
For rolling blood turned soil in turning
Blood which oozed like water from broken main pipelines
Unwilling yet necessitated by patriotism
With visions of planted seedlings
Growing in the warmth of the land
Fight fiercely for
That expensive watering to cushion freedom and ease

Fight o fight
Fight like the warriors who birthed to shadow
Fight like the sages who gave their all
For our all
Fight to heat that sorry pattern
To take the shape of smiles and pride
Filling gutters of corruption
Manholes of greed
Erosions of connections
To open the cuffs on hands of Ghanaian growth
Ushering our knees from aches of stooging
Restoring our confidence pots
In the good books of peeved ancestors
Who watch well our performances
On this stage of Ghana
With defeated tears as the only cloudy and bloody rains
From their beautiful eyelids
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Breath die every second
From the comfort of noses and mouths
Just as breath is born every second
Through the same channel
Such is the gift of life

Nothing is given for free
Everything comes with a fee
To live calls for the payment of death
Happiness needs the fee of sadness
Strength needs the fee weakness
Nothing is free in this worldly realm
Such is the gift of life

The gift of life is like a gift retrievable
Its fulfillment; the pen worthy of good
Grab it and write on your pages
Bleed it and scar to mar the pages
Or sit still and leave it blank
For such is the gift of life
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 5, 2016


He who fears the thorns of beauty
Gets no nectar nor colour
Bravery is catalyst to warriorship
Initiative precedes success
Ask legends of the land

Ask legends of the land
How their feet stood in history
To create spaces for their memories
Ask legends of the land
How their sweat were smoked by fears
To roast success in their mould
Ask legends in history
Their bleeding hearts
Which flooded their stomachs
Through the piercings of failure
Ask legends
Ask legends

Ask legends of the disappointments
So hidden by their dark
Ask legends for the smiles
Flashed through the pains of deceit
Ask legends for the scars backstabbing left on their bodies
Ask legends
Ask legends

Ask and you shall uproot your buttocks
From the sluggishness of procrastination
And move through the heat of the land
In search of your perfect space in history
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 4, 2016


A great tree has fallen
A tree that hosted many tired
Sick and confused birds
A tree whose fruit fed all who hungered
A tree whose shade
Shaded all in bad weather
Sad for a tree heavily rooted on the Savannah land
Ah Mad Doctor!
Why do you lie instead of standing?

You were a gift
A blessed gift who gifted himself
To the paupers of the land
A selfless soul whose healing hands
Touched the poor and needy
You did not care about earthly glory
But wrote your words in deeds priceless in annal of morals
Where goeth thou with thy blessed hands?

Even insanities wail for their minds lost to your stolen hands
The sick cry for their healing
Hidden deep in your mind
Frozen by the cruel body hunter who harvests in myth
Even from the cofers of those who can’t decipher its thievery
Your people cry for you
The nation cries your loss
Mad doctor who has been taken by the heavenly choir
The choir whose voice echo in immortality
Even through the weeping of mortals
Choir who jubilate in honour of a soul so deserved
Dr. Abdulai
Mad doctor of the great Savannah
A doctor rare in a generation soiled with greed
DOCTOR rated highest among doctors
May your journey be your crown
All your earthly suffering crowned by your goodness
All our tears forming seas to cool the heavens
Even at the peak of the scorching sun
For your everlasting memory
Engraved in our minds and hearts
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 4, 2016


The skyline hosts no bars
And no power to entrench clouds
Passing clouds rule only for a while
Fading or falling as rain
To be consumed or swallowed by the earth

Reigning clouds
Be not proud
You have but a shine away
To vacate the premise of the sky
Look not down on struggling vapour
For it might be your king tomorrow
When legs pound you muddy
And chemicals poison you silly
Oh you might go through rotten stones
To reach heated stomachs
Only to be poured out soiled
Like abominables

Reigning clouds
Be not deceived by the many eyes now in plea
Nor the many knees bended to please
Nor the many hands sitting on each other for your crumbs
Your wings can only grow today
So be true and true
With the reality of your transient nature
Poking your steps into humility
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 4, 2016


Nana Pokuah
I went to the market to buy fruit
I bought water melon
Thinking it green through and through
Only to cut and see how red it was within
And how cumbersome its many seeds clung to its bleed
Little minds are like watery flour mix
Only heat can harden them to feed
I was completely fooled
I learnt the hard way

Next, I bought some apples
Only to find white at the slightest prick of teeth
Then pawpaw with green frame revealed its yellow self
When my knife probed
Accusing I plucked it young
Hard heats into harder
Harder fanning to hardest
What is after hardest?

Banana also fooled me
Even black berry showing its varying colours
Orange is no different
Why will coconut be any different?
Which fruit will hide no deceit?

Nana Pokuah
Should I stop buying and plucking?
Should I move onto vegetables though a vegetable?
Ha ha
I know your insulting curses echo
In the caves of death
Take a joke, will you?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 3, 2016


I call on Onyankopon Twereduampong
The craftsman with no challenger
One who seived darkness from light
And gave them realms to rule
One who moulded common clay like a masterpiece
And gave it thoughts of superiority
One who created a universe that even great minds can’t its steps of creation fathom
To come for his drink!
Omnipotent myth!
Maker of all the bluffing and meek!
Come for your drink


I next call on all figures known as passage ways to Twereduampong
From Kramo-Kandifo to Papa Yesu
Not forgetting the uncountable gods
Whether in famine or abundance
Those who have given such signs to many,
Confused most
Taken much blood for their glory in quietude
I say
Come, drink with Ghanaman!


Every hand which work the land
In positivity with visions
Visions of brighter tomorrow
Visions of happy faces taking batons of custodianship
Visions of flying flags for fierce forces
Visions of being the kowtowed and not the kowtowing
I serve your hard earned drinks in the calabashes from the belly of your land!
Here, come for them!


Now to all hawkers of dirty linens
Clothing the ‘adagya’ of mother Ghana
The ‘aban-nnye-abusua’ clan
Who set fires in the cushions of the nation
Generating smoke for neighbours
Calling flies from alien lands
Onto sores of their heritage
I say ayekoo!
Otwereduampong knows best his art
That is why history of birth can never be erased
Bleaching changes skin colour
But all good eyes see the freckles which mark the soul
I say continue burning yours and yours
Call for aid and flies on your sores
Know your consciences never die
And if ancestors watch our path
I pray for you to join their watch
Seeing your ills shaking our grounds
Seeing your holes breaking our defences
Seeing your fire-scars which easily sore
But for now,
No sage feeds only good children leaving the stubborn
Come for the drink fetched from drought!


Minds without hands
Who seek to kill the drivers of our land
And hop into their seats to negotiate dangerous curves
Flies hovering,  always looking for sores to dig deep for fresh flesh
To lay bare our bones
Vampires of blood different from their lands
Vultures who stand on tall trees from deep forests
We are hospitable fellows
Fellows who give even to demons
Forget of the choking on drinks from the magnanimous
Forget of the pure hearts you wish murder upon
Forget of the ills we wish upon your breed
Forget of the traps we ask the gods to lay
We believe even the condemned must be fed on his journey
Boldly come for some drink from our crying pots


Now I call on all whose hands host powers
And have mouths close to the Creator of creators
To come for a convention of intervention!
Uproot all evil trees
Whose roots poison our lands to flourish!


Destroy all evil seeds who dream of comfortable soils to soil this land!


Continue to tend to our wounds
Placing hunters where horrid hunters hunt
In our beautiful sphere
And shoot into embarrassment
Spies throwing them into dens of their hungry dogs
Dogs cannibalistic and daring
To make scapegoats out of over ambitious trained eyes


Guide and guard to glide
Stepping into grass to find its ladder
Let us not have the fate of riding through Genesis to end in Revelations!
We read it all but hell must burn in the pages only


We are on harmful grounds
Clear the slippery mould and burn the fog
Opening eyes to see far
To plan ahead
The land needs the glowing peace in hardwork
To brighten the hunt for success
Heal our minds to clear our ‘pesemenkomenya’!


Take the cuffs of inferiority off our brains and free our bondage


We are your mortal livers
Posted in marked times
Hear us here and now
Into undecipherable glory


Listen to your fragile vessel
And hold hands to help build Ghana
Wie wie wie!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 3, 2016


Lazy hands, no mouth fend
So says the sage in scribes
Hands do bend
But be no end
So you can this house defend
In the pot of crises
Many will help their teeth to sing
Only few would like to lend
With a collateral greater than hearts
For tongue-shoppers to shame clothes mend
When your shame party is neatly arranged
All itchy eyes will so attend
Even legs with no standing veins
Will surely their journalists send
Words to the working wise
Slip through no history
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


Many horrors, like shadows hide
In unseen corners of jungles
Waiting to jump at dangerous intruders
So even hard hearts hide their zones
Aren’t they protected somehow?

The mouth chews to soften
And is a tool sharply shaped
When hands are tied
It can bite into suffocating hands
To freedom
Strength of the head!!!
Only desert mouths
Host fearless fingers

When strength is almost nil in most
Why deny the most sought after edible
A toffee unfinishable
A sacred hole in whole
Which needs holiness
To be broken into by mad pleasure pushers?
Where are their teeth when their tongues are helpless ways?
Give them some
Ears to hear danger
Noses to smell danger
Eyes to see danger
And teeth to bite danger
Fragile flowers need thorns!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 1, 2016



Breath lures greed
In hope of immortality
Food lures need in hope of eternal satisfaction
Money plants demons
In hope of more into much
In the hands of all pockets
Stirring the pot of vanishing only to outlast

For pleasure shovels and accomodating holes
Beings build mental castles
To chain targets like goats in slaughter houses
Though death is their last wish
Their visions of a fish caught,
Swimming out of stomachs into the same sea
Only to repeat the cycle,
Change targets into their robots
Needs metamorphose even in satisfaction into wants

Legs in mobility today have other priorities
Let them lose locomotion
And see the frustration in chant
For what was easy in the past
Same goes for mouths
But hearts with notices of end times
Cry like babies denied their best
Sorrow becoming their pens of life
What is man to want to turn itself into his God?
What drives our vehicles of ambition?
What is what in wordly realms?
What at all is

Taste is a curse
Feeling is duress
Sight is perplexing
Smell is worse
Hearing is a wrestling gift
All perishables
Together, they mould the need for more
Whipping hearts to neglect present enjoyment
In hopes of all those in fantasy forests
Forests where legs are alerting stones
To help them flee
We are comic cosmics
None is to blame, only
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 1, 2016