Image result for images of women voting in Ghana

Humans are known to be political animals. The saying did not exclude women from this saying but in Africa, reality speaks volumes of backing the notion that “men are the real political animals”, talking about men, not the Biblical ‘men’ where women are included, just the men in the gender state. It is sad to strike a percentage of women to men in the political system in Africa. Liberia’s Johnson is a rare find in what seems to be the ‘gravels to hold the mud’; the gravels- few educated women, mud; the many semi-literate and uneducated women. Felicitations to Uganda efforts in this matter but is it enough? For a continent whose women suffer in all aspects than men, it is a big shame.

Men have many choices which women do not have. The less said about derogatory utterances by some prominent people of the land, the better. Need I mention Nigeria’s leading man’s famous statement of his wife’s foremost responsibilities being to take care of all his rooms with the exception of a board room? A man can have as many wives as he wants, thanks to polygamy. When men take on more wives, they are at liberty to shed their responsibilities; they could care less about what the children will eat, their school fees, shelter, to mention but a few. It would be up to the woman to fend for the children. For such beings who everything affect, from educational policies to inflation to increment in utility bills to legislative laws, it does not make sense that only few are involved in governance. Now let me narrow down to my country Ghana.

It is on record that, of the 275 parliamentarians, only 29 are women, that is, 21.8% representation of women, who constitute 49.1% of the country’s population according to http://countrymeters.info/en/Ghana, as of the time of this writing. Remember, women might be more considering many are born without proper documentation and censuses always have their flaws. As of January 2016, http://www.ghananewsagency.org/features/election-2016-is-ghana-missing-the-gender-equity-boat–99943 reported that out of the 18,938 slots for the District Assembly seats, 17, 783 men contested as against 1,155 and less than half of the 1,155 women were elected.

What are the problems hindering the participation of women in the political system? Surely it is not a matter of competence. I believe the first factor is lack of confidence. Many women are bred on the proverb that “if a woman buys a gun, it lies on the chest of a man” and “no matter how high a woman rises, her place is in the kitchen of man”. Most women grow to accept these proverbs and live by them, making sure they kill their ambitions before they acquire the necessary qualifications to aspire higher. I will say, if a woman buys a gun which automatically becomes the property of a man, there are so many interpretations to it, the man can either be a guard to protect her from harm as she lives to bless him with prestige or the man can use it to kill her ambitions. It is sad to know that most men choose the latter on this African Continent. For the second proverb, I admire the bravery of men, men who know those who hold their stomachs and still enslave them! Can’t food be medicine and at the same time poison? Will it not be better, if better informed heads and hands grace your kitchen to prepare you the best foods there are? Why do men always seek the difficult ways out?

There is also the matter of ego in political parties and electorate. Most political parties believe women are only good for the position of “Women’s Organisers”. How sad! A woman cannot dare to compete with men even through the primaries, let alone get through to stand to be elected. I believe affirmative action helped women to get to the 21.8% mark but is it not embarrassing? When there are competent women who can go against men, matching them in debates and all that are needed to call for votes of electorate? Funny enough, Hillary Clinton’s loss might even destroy the little hope we have of women getting equal representation in politics in Ghana. The many tongues wagging “if even the United States of America failed to vote for Hillary, knowing fully well that she was a better option, partly based on the fact that she is female, why will a Ghanaian man, who is a man, vote for a woman?” What is more painful is the addition “stop deceiving yourselves, women can never and will never be at par with men where politics and for that matter, important decisions of the world is concerned”. Personally, I have heard so many of these statements from my peers, educated as they are, that I feel it is fast becoming a “men anthem”

Can corruption be left out? It is a fact that women, when given the chance to govern, do so with little or no corruption, but politics even at the grass root needs a corrupt person. A person who has political ambition needs to win the trust of foot soldiers, chiefs, party members and finally the electorate. All these people need favours ranging from financial (paying upfront) to contractual (future payment mostly through MOUs), rumours have it. So only the rich can afford to venture into politics, and let us face facts, how many women in Ghana have the wealth to challenge? Let us not forget that for most, the fact that your husband is rich does not make you rich, he might choose to buy anything you need to make you the trophy he needs as a decoration but will not help you grow higher than he is (chance mostly taught of as grounds for disrespect). What is a woman to do?

Is the media helping? Little mistakes by women in power are made ‘gargantuan’ for lack of a better word, working further to destroy the little thoughts which support women in power. Statements like “leave them, you know how women are, they become unbearable immediately they are pushed into high positions” also do not help. Six months ago, I had the opportunity of joining a friend in a gathering in one of the small villages in the Upper West. They called it a community meeting. Apart from three facilitators, including myself, who were ladies, all the people who were supposedly the representation of the village were men. The complaints of their failing educational system were blamed mostly on women who they claimed “left their positions because of pregnancies and births, are lazy and could not teach properly and are gossips so leave their jobs for the activity during classes hours” I specifically asked them if only women were the teacher of the village school and they were able to tell me less than 20% of the teachers were women. Asked to whether they have tried cautioning and querying them, silence was the answer. I could see most of the eyes of the men moving round and round as I spoke without fear and intimidation. My advice was clear, stop blaming women for the problems of this community, childbirth is natural and there are measures for them in the Ghana Education Service. If community leaders do not give women the vote of confidence and go on to always pour their negative thoughts on them, which woman will have the confidence to aspire for political power?

Believe it or not, there are women in Ghana who believe women are not fit to be in power, talk less of they aspiring. Some women do not know their rights let alone fight for them. As a woman who was told by some men in my current station (Northern Region) when I first came here to teach six years ago, that “a woman’s voice must not be heard by men except her husband” and was advised to transfer to a girl’s school so as to “stop causing some big boys in some classes to sin”, I believe I need not say more. If these men have women, and yes they do, of course, will they not have the same opinion or be made to believe it considering the fact that a quotation from a holy book backed the claim?

I could go on and on and on, the bottom line is, I call on the world to see women as the powerful beings they are, that is not to say that men are powerless. I call on women to learn to support their fellow women; “single brooms break easily”. I call on fellow educated women to educate their uneducated peers on their rights and low representation of women in key positions and its effects, I call on Ghanaians to vote for their competent women candidates. A journey of a billion miles, even a ‘zillion’ miles, still starts with a step.

(Photo Credit: Zaa Radio 99.3 FM)


There is no baby born with a mark of religion
There is no baby born in religious colours
Man made religion
So sought and still seeks routes to God
Many paths can lead to a farm
Where they meet, there is no ownership
Why do we seek superiority in the face of tolerance?

What will go wrong if a Christian acknowledges the existence of Islam and vice versa?
What will go wrong if Muslims left
Blasphemy for Allah to battle
Working to help him by explaining and teaching the directions in the Qur’an?
What will happen if the idol worshipper is given his due of respect
As he bows to nature which feeds, nurtures and shelters all?

We need the obedience of donkeys to serve our hearts
And need the hard work of ants to propagate our beliefs
We need the ears of elephants
To listen and discern
We need the togetherness of bees to protect our lives like they do their honey
Making smoke to weaken our bond
Forcing us to fall prey to our enemies
Is just becoming Frankenstein Monsters
Who but the spider
Fixes its web torn into by intruders?
Wise words marry good ears
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 26, 2016


Words are on the field of deliberations
From high heads dripping with opinions from perspectives dynamic
The question which is like the ball on the field?
Was Castro a dictator?

Castro was a dictator!
Obama is a hypocrite!
Trump is the ish when it comes to the bible’s wish
Trump is truthful
His eyes aiding his apt speech
Mr. Dzome couldn’t be more passionate

Castro was a hero!
One who drove a city on wheels of prostitution
Drugs, illiteracy and colonialism
Into freedom
Enlightening many
Opening the doors of knowledge
Into the doom of illnesses
Shaping blackness to be at par with white in Cuba land
Shaming and executing racism
As Ga’s shame hunger during Homowo
Femi simply poured his bit
Leaving the floor a spectator

Oh hypocrites of beings!
Who will dare hail an autocrat
Who ruled for sixty years without a challenge?
Who is hailing one who slaughtered
His opponents like fowls to maintain his gun made throne?
Who will choose Cuba over America, given the chance?
Let he who wants to see a dictator rule his country
For sixty times twelve moons
Come forward now!
An angry voice echoed through words

I would rather vote for the change I see
Than vote for the naught that be
Democracy is but the playfield of colonial masters
Who pull strings unseen
To destroy most good to be
Removing the best to enstool scarecrows
Hands of healing blessed many states
Saving lives, thanks to Fidel’s Cuba
Dictator or not
He cleared the rot
Nana Apenteng wrote with vim

Concurrency and a few boos trickled
But the battle is yet to end
Who knows the many tongues which will battle fingers
To continue this play to a win?
These fingers hide in writing
Knowing more about the dictator
Who was a blessing to most
And a curse to few
That dictator
Who boldly walked into death
After living over ten times ten lives
That dictator who only lost to a sore
After tending to many state sores
That dictator who seeks to be absolved by history into the hall of heroism
That dictator!
The dictator who flies to the shores of death
With his name on many lips
That dictator. ..
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 27, 2016
(With inspiration from Friends of GAW)


Who thought the chased tadpole
Would grow to be a toad
And outwit all snakes and predators
To walk with own legs to the city of death?

Who thought a struggling soul
Would be a David to topple a millitary Goliath
And open the gate of enlightenment
For many whose swords were metal to turn pens?
Fidel, you are a hero!

Power is a powerful alcohol
Attacking sanity of most to live presents even in future
Power is a destructive drug
It bugs the mind into high-hood
Making thoughts hazy and self superior to all
But you tried your best and made your mark

No matter the purity of a corn harvest
When it lasts long in its sack
Weevils will break its defenses
And destroy most of it
If not all
But its presence shames famine
Giving security to stomachs which tasted the whips of hunger
Fidel, you were an iconic conundrum for most weevils
And decorative corn for hungry stomachs
Still,  your mark is made!

As you walk into the unseen city
Sit with many of your peers in political entrenchment
With an enlightenment from Nelson Mandela
To change what must be changed
Calling on Mugabe to host a revolution of power discipline
To bring sanity to the developing world

I know you were a hunted mouse for many cats
One who outwitted them all like a god of game
And drew their foolish faces on rants and disgruntled public hearts
Death has absolved you
But look back on life in analysis
And help promote your mirroring good
Eliminating your murdering faults

You did your best like all
Fighting imperialism
Shaming colonialism
I am sure you wished all had your passion
To make Cuba a state of positive revolution
But can one with eyes lead blind men to a war unseen?
You will be missed by all
For good or bad
You will be hailed by many
In good governance and bad
You have your space in history
A space none can erase
You are what you posed
Your flaws
Your perfection
All making you the Fidel of our Century!
You know struggling states’ dead do not have rest permits
But find time and rest anyway
Rest and rest in peace you found not
In this worldly realm
Long live your mark!
Long live Cuba!
Long live the world of beings!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 26, 2016

THE BIG FALL (For Ohemaa Afia Serwaa Kobi Ampem)

As many leaves fall to pave way for new
So do humans fall for space for new
Many leaves have fallen in this harmattan
Which winds uprooted the strong root
Of a great palm
Shaking the grounds of the unshakeable Ashanti Kingdom?

Hunger has no bluetooth
But the elders say
Only a mother feels the hunger of her children
Why did you drop your loving and protective umbrella
From the head of Nana Osei Tutu II
In this pelting stones and arbitration adding rains of sadness?
Nana Hemaa, where is thy face
When mansions seek to be blessed with your vision?

Kind heart in regal bones!
Fine art in perfect body!
Perfect model of rightness of culture!
Ohemaa’s feet in ahenema!
Ohemaa’s body in sika ntama!
Ohema’s shiny smooth black skin!
Tuntum brane!
Ohemaa’s tongue stirring the proper Akan language with anwinsem made from the chambers of wisdom!
You truly will be missed!
Nana Hemaa!
One whose womb begets kings even suns bow to look
Matriarch turned legend!
Although time’s cutlass ruthlessly cuts lives
It dared not until the gods made your path!
You did live to command death!
Even so, we mourn
For who can smile when their honeypot breaks?

We cry rivers for our loss
Mourn ourselves for our heartbreak
But celebrate your life and blessed journey
You were born to stand first in all
Even your death marking first in a triple
Age of blessedness
Nana Ampem!
First daughter of Asante Kingdom!
Loving daughter of Yaa Asantewaa’s lineage!
Firm, strong, brave
Fearful to all enemies!
Angel to all friends!
Nana nanti yie o!
Rest not until you have told all our hardships to the ruling ancestors
Sit only to watch Asanteman and Ghana prosper
Sleep only when your people know the best of peace
You sacrificial soul
Talking peace even in death!

Nana Serwaa!
Serwaa Brakatu!
Kotoko Hemaa nnimpong!
One who porcuppines will kill themselves to protect if death had abducted!
Lucky death! Its gates stood in bow for your entrance
Nana Kobi Ampem eeei!
Damirifa due!!
Due due ne amanehunu!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 24, 2016


I wish, I wish, I wish!
I wish I had a day
To travel to the mind of man
I would want to explore all his caves
To know the wires that touch
To electrocute some senses
Into forming actions gargantuans
To horrify my sisters and I

I’d first love to be a tourist
In the cave of nudity
Knowing their genesis of need for pornography
Its positive and negative wires into sockethood
Sockets which drive their urges
I would then move to seeking the hormones
Which make most brothers “agya apapu”
Following even sticks in female apparel

I would also explore the cave of ego
Investigating to know the old engines
Which spark too loudly
When their keys of annoyance turn
And hope their healing keys
Hang in a corner

I would also love to know what motivates their need to own
Owning and owning but hating to share in rivalry
Some holes deemed favourites
Sparking cutlasses of jealousy
Which poisons reason

I wish
Wishing wishes horses
To fly me into what blocks their stored emotions
And help most multi-task in lies
Hunting conquests in forests ruled by thorns of infections

What will I not give to know the vein
Which pumps need-blood for beauties to showcase,
Intellectuals to demonstrate
And the easily bullied or order in servantship

Which fat boils the need for power?
Which water fountains to fan the need for thanksgiving
For little efforts rendered?
Which, symphonizes the music of success
To make them dancing puppets on stages of unthinkables
I wish, I wish, I wish!

I wish to find the ray wires of their eyes
To see from their points of view
To know if they own lasers which see through feminine clothes
Fanning their desires even in attires
I wish
I wish
I wish
If only their heads were parks to explore
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 22, 2016


I am a product of a nation
Which was stung by the bee of slavery
That I am
But that is centuries ago
I was never a slave
I acknowledge the pains of my caught brothers and sisters of my ancestors
That should not drag me
Into caves of self sympathy
Wallowing in the dirt of self pity

When a match stick strikes the cheek of its box
And kisses the stove to light
It has finished its work
It behoves the flames to heat the saucepan
To help it boil its content
So why will the stove cry to put out its flame
For the matchstick which fought so hard
To strike the cheeks of its box
To see it glow?

I am no slave
I am a fortunate soul fiercely fought for
I look forward to the highest of successes
And have no time to be the dirt to be stepped on
I am a liberated soul
And have no time to complain about a shame that needs burial
Why don’t my people see?

I am what I was made
Glowing with sun and moon
My mood has no time to roost on pains of yester years
Let black shine with me
To heat enlightenment
To feed glory to our generations
Traveling through our proceeds to the future
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 20, 2016


I pour this libation
From my free but poor calabash
Which knows hunger as a happy sport
And not an opposing wrestler
To let dreams fall into sleep of all
To see fierce and hunting war
In chase of ones whose preferences
Became their bait of horrid fate

I pour this libation from my fearful calabash
Which loves to retain every drop it hosts
To wet the lips of mouths of thirsty gods
To help them consult oracles of miracles
To invoke the slap of reality
To wake us from slumber of sluggishness
Exporting us to the heaven gates of hard work

We pour our all on peace preaching
When others seek to inject the sun
To see its veins
I pour
Nananom nsa!

Nananom nsa!
To chase hard in hells of war
All “tintintinintis” who plan to be all the war
In loses they abhor

Nananom ei nsa!
To let money hunters in national-cake- chase
Lose interest, race or lives
To rid our world of failures unborn

Any “takrawogyamu”must be burnt by hell’s hell fires
Fuelled by Odomankoma’s “faango”
All brown snakes in dust must be poisoned by the heat
Which hides their dubious frames!
All water snakes acting like water lilies
Must be chopped on boards of “we thought before you”
Nananom nsa for safety!
Nsa for discernment!
Nsa for all right choices!
Nsa to entrench our lasting peace!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 20, 2016


When the sound of the trumpet
Is rejected in echo
Like a ball thrown to a wall
And it finds not the hole and the mouth
Which gave it life for the errand
It falls into vanishment
Like little dust in overflowing gutters
Let ears hear the sound of tolerance

When the cock sings at dawn to wake all
It feels important
But the lullabic voice of a nightingale in the evening
Shakes its grounds in jealousy
Until it falls under the spell of sleep
Knowing masters have masters
There is nothing wrong with bosses of different times

You rise to the dawn of change
Or the morning of continuance
Heads are similar modules
Minds form to repel even itself
Engaging in internal war
Many times in a day
Causing battles unseen
Is it a wonder when two separate heads crash?

There is the fool
And there is the coward
There are those who push the sails backward
There is the wise
There is the brave
There are muscles which force us forward
Wherever your tongue stir
Ridden by thoughts
Remember you are no sky to suspend
You need the grounds to walk
The sages will drink from this weave of wisdom
And fan the sweat of boiling tempers to cool
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 18, 2016


I have a voice
But no matter the loudness of the noise
I vote Ghana!

I have a choice
But no matter the decision
I will rejoice
And vote Ghana!

Never will my blood boil
To break the pot
That hosts my waters of life
I vote
I vote Ghana

Never will I pierce the saucepan
That cooks my meals
What will taste the fires and burn
To keep me, mine and ours
Overflowing with generations?
I vote
I vote Ghana

Only one with a disturbed pillow
Seeks to wallow in the fires of insomnia
To hit the drums of disaster
Forgetting his soul in a circle
I vote Ghana
Above all earthly else
A temporary tenant can’t make me break down my house
In exchange for solidarity
Turning me into a rejected vulture
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016



Ghana is almost sixty years old and any human being at sixty is almost close to his grave. All expectations and achievements have been realised. Only (excuse my language) a fool will bank all his hopes on lottery at sixty. If life is important, our country Ghana is more important because it is the property of generations and generations yet to come. No parent with many children will want to see them maiming and killing each other just for superiority or to a selfish end. Will it not be a cliche if I quote the “single broom and many strapped brooms” proverb? Ghana is one country, citizens are all children of the land. We are obviously far from the goals and aspirations of the late Dr. Kwame Nkrumah and fall back on Lee Kwan Yew’s tactics to help us see the light of development. We are almost at our wit’s end where electricity is concerned, people are crying “poverty”. Corruption is pushing us to the edge of doom but politicians who are supposed to be the servants of the nation are building mansions, sharing monies meant for development and acquiring properties gargantuan for themselves and as gifts. There are still farming areas in Ghana with unmotorable roads, who has time for power struggle?

It saddens me to see supporters of both the National Democratic Congress (NDC) and the New Patriotic Party (NPP) fighting among themselves like enemies on a deadly battlefield. Ghana is not a battlefield and neither NDC nor NPP are soldiers at war.

What is most difficult to watch is the fact that dirty tactics are used for campaigning. Would it not be fair for a candidate to use fair language, visions through their manifestos; believable and workable, to win the trust and mandate of the electorate?

To the NDC, why use infrastructural developments as campaign tools when the monies used did not came from tax payers and loans payable with huge interests? Adverts that show NPP as a poor party is below the belt. Where is the source of your campaign funds? If your manifesto for 2012 is reviewed, will we see all the promises fulfilled? Claims of being witch hunted by the judiciary is not good enough where the Woyome case is concerned. Innocent people do not cry foul when criminals are being searched for. In any case, you did no wrong when the Anas case came out. It was an act of corruption revealed to help rid the nation of “murderous traits”. I do not see why rumours must fly around that you were to blame for it.

To the NPP, why not concentrate on winning the hearts of the electorate through your visions? Only one who has nothing better to offer uses faults of others to get ahead. The complains can be substituted by efforts laudable. Revelling in the possible scandals of the NDC is not the ticket to give you the mandate to rule.

Clashes of the two political parties are being reported by many media outlets, painting pictures of ignoramuses and idiocy to the world. Some laugh as others curse, but for certain, none sympathises. We call Donald Trump names when he ridicules us with the obvious and taunts our brothers and sisters in the diaspora. When will we see that one Ghana is all we have, and work to make it better, ‘livable’, lovable, encouraging each other to bring out the best in us in order to achieve our development goals?

If all you want is to make Ghana a better place, why fight when you can join forces to? Why should the winner matter? Why incite others to kill each other in our bid to select? Ghana is bigger than any political party. Ghana is no property for the violent! Ghana’s bedrock is peace. No matter how hateful Donald Trump proved, the US elections were free and fair and the drama was less as compared to ours.

I leave you two with this, do Ghana a favour by sitting in thinking “Will I be able to face my ancestors with a clear conscience when I join them? Will I represent my people without malice, discrimination and harm? Will my conscience stay intact after my struggle to be in power? Is this position to serve or to rule? Will I be able to build the ladder of development to pave way for my children and their children to build on? What will I gain if I make my home an international laughing stock?”

A word to the wise…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 17th November, 2016.

(Photo: Google pics)


There is a cloud forming on clouds

The sky of red, gold, black star and green

Has arms wide opened to mean

It can take all the dance on court floor, even the mean

And awaits personalities who will fall into shrouds


Amidu holds the reins

And just got Woyome as the horse

Hoping to ride him into remorse

Entrenching himself as discipline’s boss

Giving hope where hopelessness reigns


What is to be expected?

Ghana will bake and shake

The world will seek and rake

Stories will build and wake

Accepted will flog the unaccepted


Will this rain

Fall to muddy the ground

Where corruptions hound?

Will sanity in Ghana be found?

I pray for all to be sane

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 16, 2016


In Ghana, the sun always sets

Now elephants, coconut trees

The cockerel, the sun

All battle to topple the umbrella


Some call it the leaking umbrella

Which has been bribed by nature’s delicacies

To cancel its safety obligation

Some call it the weak emblem

Blown in shame by winds of corruption

Some call it a standing failure

Doped in troubles, shielding only the best of vitamin D

And clean and needed water in drought

What is what?

Ghana stands like a helpless cow

Waiting for a painful slaughter


If only all audience had perfect eyes

Eyes which see no ethnicity

Eyes which see no affiliations

Eyes which see no connections

Eyes which see nothing but growth for all

We could have it all

And triumph over our fall

Mother Ghana! Your breasts suffer

From the teeth of the vampires you breed

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 15, 2016


When the gods speak into mouthpieces

Let the people get their earpieces

If the street listens to beats

Legs get massaged by the rhythms

Who are legs to complain?


Generations die for generations to live

A kiss in the dark in some archaic moments

Sex on the street in contemporary times

Leafs of innocence fall in time

Normalising abnormalities

Slapping primitive heads into swallowing sillies


Let all wake to learn

To box well heads in hands

Seeking to take advantage where disadvantages lie

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 14, 2016 


On this ground of uncertainty

Look my way

Hold my hand like a crawling toddler

Heal my feet

And hold me up


I am but soul on clay

I am nought but your weave

I am nought but your grateful robot

Help me step to you


Where the world flaws

Give me holding claws

Where fingers point to tarnish

Let your grace garnish

Where hope is caught by deceit

Like a chicken caught by a hawk

Be the safe wings of protection

Lead my steps

One at a time

Safely to you

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 13, 2016


When you feel him drifting
Heart races in sad palpitations
Fears roll in high doses
Pain slices deep in soul
But what is a woman to do
When his heart drifts?

Pain is the reluctance to chat
Harm is the secret of neglect
Murder is the hidden other
Hiding, and cheating
Tactfully dismissing
Skillfully leaving
What is a woman to do
When his heart drifts?

Weakness of love
Is its guns shot when forever shortens into goodbye
Weakness of trust is the ray cast on a secret rendezvous
Even in tiny bits
Love spills like water
Seeping through the harmattan pores of madness
What is a man to do when her heart drifts?

Winners are they who experience rejection
Are kicked by shame of its suppression
And rise like Davids
To conquer the Goliaths of absolute control
And finish-hoods
Life holds swords and chests
A cut
A hug
A balance is fair
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 12, 2016


How did this happen?
A bull dog winning a battle with a lioness?
How did this happen?
Trash beats motherly breasts to become a tap of filth?
Who will filter this?
A demon has penetrated through the gates of peace
Will the peace cease?

A massacre of thoughts
Marrying chaos like disaster
Emphasising pain till the end
Receiving gifts of disdain
Inviting wars from stray bullets
Cancelling friendship hardly won
Attacked by its nomination like a Frankenstein Monster
This is a seer’s vision

When a drama king sits on the house of Lords
Many great lords are made comedians
Their right opinions flushed into his gutter of bastardazation
What is a radically blind realm to do?
The crooked path has been made
How many will end in its thorny forest?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 9, 2016



A lioness battles a bull dog

In a scary, dark and thick fog

All name calling like betrayer and a hog

Will be flogged and caught in an end clog


A gentle soul begs for thumbs in whole

Competing with a monster from a hole

Whose drift would be smeared in coal

And who would become a success foal?


Would history be made

In a dirty blunt hurt spade?

Or history be made

With a first breast for shade?


Supremacists stand side by side

With mean looks on black ‘hide’

Controversies stir pots of dignity

Who gains capture as against immunity?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 8, 2016

Photo Credit: Google pics


The beginning of love
Is like the beginning of creation
I am sure God’s heart raced
As he created it all
His joy sat in a celebratory palanquin
Developed wings and danced like an all powerful ruler
Hailed by satisfaction as a look upon jubilant
When all was done

My ears can imagine his symphony in orchestration
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

I am sure he thought he found a friend
So pampered Adam like a baby
Cuddled,  held hands
Laughed and felt his smile even without him
Such fire of purity can only make one hear

Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

The thoughtfulness of curbing loneliness
Must have forced God to make another
A more powerful breed
Who unfortunately was a channel of deceit
Breaking the heart of God
Like a shattered fresh egg
I can hear the sorrow in his groan

Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

That might have forced the curses
That might have caused the pain
That might have deepened the animosity
And man turned into the labourer
Could man be Africa, God be God and Eve be the intruders?
Wait, let me guess this sad tune
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’

Our flutters are over
Our loving friction so over
If animosity now reigns
As God in anger flees
What is our prayer to fix the broken?
Can we see hands held high to reach out?
Can we see hearts cry out to reach out?
Can we see minds working bodies to mend?
Sorrowful tunes cased for a once happy tune sucks
It goes like the steps of a game of death
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na naaaa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na na na na na na
Pa pa na na na na
Pa na na na aa
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Pa na na na na
Na pa na na na na’
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 1, 2016


Serious basket sent to the stream of ambitions
To fetch heads which sync with hands
In hardwork to weave the nation
Suddenly developed comedic holes
Posing pictures of ridicule
In a nation whose teeth can’t afford a smile
Talk less of laughter

Fishes flawed and thrown out
Have majestically managed to catwalk
Into the basket eyed by all
Did the basket fall?
Did its call for flaws flaw?
Is it about to topple
To break the hard earned weave of many hands?

I had a vision
The feminine flag fell at the feet of its poll
Shot by many mouths with stones of her over criticism
In her catapult of ‘frenchimness’
Lo and behold, signs like a pen
Sign evidence in days in her prideful fingers
What is man to think of it all?

Serious comedy!
Comic parody!
Haunting ridicule!
Daunting spectacle!
When will serious matters fly high
On eye boxes as against the follies?
Oh Ghana my motherland!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 4, 2016.


It is only in the house of politics
We find blinding smoke without fire
Its finances, like confusing qualitative thesis, lacks mathematics
Its words flying with no hands to tame to collate

Tongues of tongues are begged in hire
Hands with corrupt cash magnets
Get to be called sires
Brains with guttered tricks
Get to lead the need
While best bids sit catching flies

The few who venture turn spoilt food of ridicule
On the political market
Is it universal or Continental?
Is it our curse or our nature?
What is a tired climbing woman to do
When her children sell her out
Like cheap tomatoes on enemy markets?

Who can fingers of blame point to?
Great eyes which see and force mouths to mute?
Capable hands who fold in fear of hurts
Pushing weak and troubled hands to the fore?
Or ears who hear but act deaf?
This woman is in troubled waters
This poor Ghana!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 17th October, 2016


We are our illnesses
We, golden children
Conceived painfully and graciously
By Asaase Yaa, the goddess of nature
How can we heal?

Our legs flirt with fine dust of deceit
Enthroning it to build mansions
In our priced noses
Distributing coughs of fear
Digging pain of panic
Blinding us and
Developing weaknesses which deepen our sores
Helping flies to travel to feast fat
On our blessed bodies
Who is our saviour
If we are our own devils?

Yesi yesi
Has a palace with shrines
Worshipped by many
Including skilled minds
Anything dished on plates of our minds
Are consumed gratefully
Without a thought to its ingredients
What kind of minds eat
But do not weed let alone grow to process?

Vanishing genitals
Human hunters
Defaming saints
Promoting angels of Satan
Which action fiction scripts can’t we write
With our mouths and thoughts?

Gift of discernment
Heaps of choices
Apt analysis
N ever ending options
Appropriate conclusions
Can we not be refined through this order?
Rhetorics are best left hanging
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 2, October, 2016


Image result for images of  bold on bing.com


The infra dig man-cue

For flowers of honour

Is not part of the deities I worship



Bombastic preachers

Robed in cover of their leeched skin

Can’t make me sleep

No matter the soothing of their evoking lullabies



Mouths which work in the dark

And mute in light

Can never move a muscle in my body

Why must hidden teeth  robot my being?



Heavy duty machines of worry

Will never drag me into a failure lorry

Will I be the first and last to be sorry?

Definitely not

Life is no fixed time with a forever whip


If I am misunderstood

I would rather I am ‘overstood’

I did not bring me here

And will not take me from here

Life that brought me must give me death

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 2, 2016

Photo Credit: Bing.com


  • The Ghana Poetry Festival is set to take place from the 10th – 12th November, 2016. The festival whose first and second editions have nurtured young poets into successes will take place once again; bringing together poets from all regions of Ghana and its suburbs unto one stage. ‘Values for Life’ and the W.E.B. Dubois Memorial Center for Pan-Africanism presents the 3rd Edition of the Ghana Poetry Festival. The local organizing team promises to host a well-structured, educational and entertaining festival like no other in the history of literary festivals in Ghana. With the theme of “Discovering the Value of Poetry: The Role of Stakeholders”, Ghana Poetry Festival promises a series of exciting literary arts, creative arts and entertaining events among many others over a span of three days at the W.E.B. Dubois Memorial Center for Pan-Africanism, Cantonments; in Accra, Ghana. With the awesome Hon. Abla Dzifa Gomashie –deputy Minister of Tourism, Culture and Creative Arts – as patron, Ghana Poetry Festival will also serve as an avenue to promote African culture and arts, through its series of round table discussions and workshops.
    The festival will feature several local and international guests and artists like Hon. Abla Dzifa Gomashie, Prof. Lade Wosornu, Prof. Ama Ataa Aidoo, Prof. Anyidoho, Dr. Mawuli Adjei, Naki from the USA, Oswald Okaitei, Nana Asaase, Chief Moomen, Apiorkor, Ozion, Rhymesonny, Kofi Dzogbewu and Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia among several others. These guests and artists will perform and coordinate the various events and programs in the festival like the seminar and performances, masterclasses, roundtable discussions and video screening among several others.
    This year’s festival presents a special session where poetically versatile poets will have the opportunity to perform poems in their native tongues. Also watch out for the Inter-schools’ poetry competition, Open Mic sessions, exhibitions and paintings, Generational Poetry performances and the ‘Journey to Ourselves’ – a fusion of poetry, music, dance and drama conceptualized and directed by Oswald Okaitei.
    The climax of the festival will be the “All Stars and Legends Night” which will feature all poetic legends and stars in Ghana and other invited artists on one stage; doing what they do best. The amazing part of it all is that the festival is free and open to anybody at all. All roads lead to the W.E.B. Dubois Memorial Center for Pan Africanism, Cantonments, near the American Embassy from the 10th-12th November, 2016. The minds of directions; the eyes of criticisms; the tongues of peace will pick diverse themes to set the country and the world right through satire, creativity and raw forms. There will be lots to entertain, lots of humour, lots of moral lessons and an impact to last a lifetime.


Image result for bing moving images of love

Pushed by loving winds from my home tree

Onto dead leaves

I have smelt much unpleasantness

Tasted rot

Been blown here and there

A pawn of the air


I have searched deserts

And felt the pelts of sand

Barely made it out with visible holes all over

A poor little leaf like me

I saw the scents of nectar drawing butterflies in

I saw not the flies that hover

And the wilting that waited

So combed forests

And felt the thorns of smiling flowers

Felt the blows of falling leaves

Felt the chase of dryness

Losing breath and panting for that which drags

Now I need a taste of love


I need a taste of love

To be set free from the dragging wind

I need the honey of love

To be weighty in settlement

I need a taste of love

To get a testimony to garnish history

I need a taste of love

Love, like the one fantasy swoons to tell

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) November 1, 2016

Photo Credit: www.fanpop.com