GOOD DAYS GOING

Almost gone are the days
When good songs told stories
Stories of morals and uprightness
And were whips for wayward consciences
To run to the right paths

II
Almost gone are the days
When rivers of wisdom
Flowed into empty wells of youth
To seal the future of morality and discipline
Eternal darkness is falling on a sun zone

III
Almost gone are the days
When the elderly had his space
And the young served into the promotion of growth
The order now crumbles under rights with fearsome weapons
Oh generation where honey drips from metal bees!
What will your future be?

IV
Spaniard immorality on make-believe screens
Blood sisters always ready
Like dogs
To fight over a pestle
Using their ready mortars as baits
Our ancestors weep the plague of incestuous longing!
Our people covet the realm Where love corrodes sanity
And madness cancels sacrilege
Eagles now walk as pigs dream to fly
I wish I had future eyes to see the end
Of this looming tragedy

V
Clothes of nakedness
Covering none yet sold in gold
Paintings of sand
Changing none yet sought in bold
Claws of horror
Loved for their error
Of incapacitating fingers
Rings on fingers
Strings that linger
If there is a God
His judgement books will need years to travel
To get immortal lawyers
To read to defend

VI
I am but an eye with no audible mouth
I am but a pen with not many students
I am but a little soul lost in a poor bowl
On a ship that sinks on this sea of life
I am like an unpleasant passing air
What can I do but scribble their wriggle
On a major morality day?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Feb. 26, 2017

WHEN POTTED FLOWERS DISAPPOINT

I always aimed to be a potted flower
I envied their supplies
From waters carried by muscles
To the manure bought to feed
Talk less of their pampering of shades and aids
And their protection and attention

II
They were like the dream
Which emptied me from their cans of dark bliss
Onto scolding thorns with sharp blades
Were their possessions curses?
Were their bliss phantoms?
Were their feeds poisoned with complacency and failures?

III
How far has time travelled
To have my envy burned into pity?
How much has the world changed
To have a flower in the wild
Live to the chorus of ovation
While potted flowers sqirm on bended knees?
How strong were their benefactors
To have their fates destroyed by perfect handling?
Why do I bless the bird who spat me
Into the thorny desert
While they curse those who pampered them on beds?

IV
Life is two way microscope
Watchers turn watched in split breaths
Funny how heroes turn villains
And are thrown out of their star parade
Forget-me-nots must thread cautiously
On bruised weeds
For time may plant its flowers between them
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) February 24, 2017

I WON’T HOUSE A MOUSE

If I build a house
I won’t house a mouse
Mice which crawl in clothes of darkness
To eat my rice
Rolling my dice
And putting my eyes in a quandary of lies
Are nothing nice

II
Roasting on ghost nets
After walking on the finest clouds
Being toasted on fear fires
Like a lost “akrantie” whose fate
Marked a reflection of jubilation for its predators
While its lost family search in mourning
Is nothing nice
I won’t house a mouse in my house
No matter the space

III
I would rather house a lion
Whose heat iron my pores
Causing sores and rivers of blood stained sweat
For in every scratch
I will a plan hatch
In every fear
I will dig a hole to be whole
In every barred fangs
I will be tutored by pangs
I will never house a mouse in my house
Those creepy leepy peeps
Who blow the eyes to rest only to loot
Aren’t ones to skip my gun
So search to scrap your inner mouse
Before stepping into my house
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) February 20, 2017

LOVE

Love is when the heart
Stands at the dilemic path of uncertainties and possibilities

II
Love is when misunderstandings
Blow over and turn fun
To vaporize into lessons

III
Love is when thoughts sway afar
Sitting with memories of one in a present shadow

IV
Love is when you open your mind to dream
Thinking of what others might think
As you bond with one whose past
Hides in adornment of a picture alluring

V
Love is when you lower your gun
To let someone fly
Even when you nurse broken wings

VI
Love is when the unbearable becomes bearable
When you yearn to fetch
All pain from the heart connected
Thinking you are above pain
Love is giving than receiving
Giving everything with no thoughts of profits
Love is
Whatever makes you smile in satisfaction
Amoafowaa Sefa C. February 14, 2017

THE STRENGTH OF LEGS

Legs stand frail
Smaller than thighs
Which they carry like a huge mountain on two small trees
Yet move calculating not
That head to waist add to their load
That is the power of living with your all

II
So why will a soul in flight
Complain of the burning of the wind?
Why should a burdened soul
Seek to flee leaving its body and mind?
Why will a tired hand rebel
When it hangs and swings
And explores to fold?
No matter how huge our crosses
The world creates chances of its nothingness
Because there is always someone
Whose cross dwarfs ours
Yet knows the taste of the gratefulness of living
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) February 4, 2017

ALL EMBRACED

Seeds begot plants
Through rot
Every ray of sunshine,
Every drop of rain,
And every bit of air
Hold hands to torture for growth
The blessed farmer sure must be grateful
And considerate

II
A harvest comes with its history
As humans do their shadows
Every step praises the ground
Remembers crippling moments
Feels flashes of painful rehearsals
And remembers the victorious taste of overcoming every feat
Heads sure must look down once in a while
To thank the dust that rise
To clap for an apt step

III
We take it all
Shoulders and arms
Tears that rain
Hearts that cry like tired engines
Feet that shiver and fall
Eyes that blur to blind
Mouths which quiver to close
In thanks to the seed
That shed its beauty to push to life
A strong plant

V
We take it all
Not in parts
Home is the place where history is embraced
As the present listens to echoes of heartbeats
Grateful for a whole
Not a part
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) February 3, 2017