In your scented garden 
You left many flowers

Maybe for your precious lavenders

Maybe to heal foul scents

Maybe to sooth the thirst of precious birds in their prime

Maybe to multiply and beautify the land

But the harvesters of scents have been harvesting the nectar

Before they blossom to bless the temples of noses


The lavender harvesters now sit

Looking for perfected flowers to work with

And realize they are all scentless

Yet they stand tall

Their egos hanging as their badges of honour

Claiming no knowledge of the disaster

While stepping on the dead pride of all your fallen flowers

Whose teeth of thorns roar voiceless

In the death of their pride

Where are the eyes you left in watch?


How legs meant to protect have turned bees

Fetching nectars through unformed hymens

Beats my imagination

How those same pretentious legs

Search for full and ripe nectars to crown their egos

Sits on the thoughts of my mind 

How you, who sees it all, stand the pretention

Now acts like a dog, chasing the meat in my head


Your garden now reeks of filth

Your flowers turned mere weeds

Calling for your hoes even in fear of death

What kind of farmer at thou?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 30, 2017


What does it mean to be my friend?
Is it the whispering rumouring 

Like naughty airs being tossed by blocking walls?

Or the sharing of secrets

Which are kept in our brainy books of memories?

Or even the taste of our handkerchiefs

At the sips of our overflowing eyes

In the heat of sadness?

What explanation does our codification of friendship give?


Shouldn’t it be stronger than hatred?

I know two close trees bump into each other often

Just as tongues battle teeth in chewing

Shouldn’t it be greater than distance?

Oh is this world not a bouncer of beings?

Today sits here as tomorrow moves there

Shouldn’t it be greater than silence?

Even wits rest when the dawn of thoughts fall

When a mouth closes in thoughts, can’t the other call?

Shouldn’t it be greater than intuition?

Oh human fallibilities tap from our abilities

What greater cause is there than clarity?

Shouldn’t it be greater than rumours?

Those smokes which spark forest fires are not always from the hunter’s match!

Shouldn’t it be greater than wealth?

Money is blood but blood alone makes no being!

Shouldn’t it be greater than darkness?

Hands are there to feed minds

When darkness falls upon eyes’ light

To fix the severed or join good threads

Shouldn’t it be greater than jealousy?

Hearts are fickle and yearning can clash

In the heat of pain can we dwell on sanes?

What does it mean to be my friend?


Read my thoughts in the memories we shared

Fix my void with the delights which clothed our minds

Run me a chore with the past which was meant to last

This trolley of life knows no stops

So why burn the ages rooted in the archives of our history?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 25, 2017


This class mask
Is it not a daunting task?

This heat of a task

Does it have a dawn and a dusk?

Even chameleons tire of stealing reflections

So why model your deflections?


I see a whore in clothes of virgins

An unscrupulous you modelling pious clothes

Why is a pedophile rocking a priestly cassock?

As a servant fits into a kingly crown

I see a demon in angelic gown

While hell parades as heaven

Why doesn’t pretense come with a tag?


Fuss of a cuss!

Artificial makeups in a fit!

Heels of lying hills!

Clothes of phantoms!

Boxers of stealing pythons!

Anuses usurping mouths on faces!

The world of a classless classes

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 25, 2017


​A mother’s spectacles

Is like a fairy oracle

Her love, making her a congregant in her children’s tabernacle

In them is her miracles

So in their diabolicals, she gets no logicals

Even their unfunny jokes act comical

On a stage most find horrible

Oh her love is so adorable!


Who forgets the stretch of stomach walls?

The boiling pain in saucepans of breasts?

Who forgets the load of carrying

Like a world in an ever growing lead in the stomach?

Who forgets the taunting back pain 

Which sounds like the whips of an annoyed demon of hell?

Who forgets the pushing and tearing

Or the knifing and stitching

And oh the grinding of sores

Which swells innocent pores?

Who forgets flattening breasts like fallen pancakes?

Who forgets the bloating and sleeplessness?

Who forgets the culprits of these ills and loves like an enchanted fool?


None but a mother

One who can pluck her life from life’s tree

If her own can sit comfortably on it

Oh a mother’s spectacles!

A lens none can get

Without stretching on the life and death path

Of opening life’s doors

Either in heart, mind or body to others

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 23, 2017


Gather all ye unhappy hens

From the coops of your watching owners

Gather, ye who need chicks to follow their cocks

Come all ye aggrieved

Water has lessons to show


It tastes heavens and licks the earth

It knows the hearts of mountains and

The feet of the earth

It convenes to carry ships and boats

While feeding as many as wishes

But none has seen and tasted rear foods

In their horribilities like it


It knows the human body like no other

It is a big part of the living factor

Pushing filth and running grace

Yes, it evaporates in too high a heat for rebirth

And metamorphoses into  stone in severe cold

But returns to its normal form

And keeps doing its natural chores


When blocked, it can kill at will

But still, water’s bill is a thing none can fill

And its benevolent height is a hill none can till

No living can be without water

Shape all forms as you want

Be like water

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 22, 2017


Which is the right way?

The rough route with sharp stones

The smooth route with the slippery oil?

Or the cool road built with a painful patience?


Which is the right way?

Rebellion to conquer slavery

Battle to kill desires

Or dialogue to smoothen seams?

Which is the right way?

Which is the right way?


Bliss is an expensive kiss

Which, as flies sitting on sugar, feeds on work

On patience

On humility

On sacrifices

Yet many want a goal without a run


Mouths can curse and bless

As teeth watch and tongues stir

A choice calls from all angles

Heed your best to get a chest

Which reliably follows through your hollows

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 20, 2017


Lord God

Your fallibility tool in the living

Is a great disservice to you

Yet magnanimity is one of your gracious parts

You sure are the only thumb

Without whom no rope can be tied

The I am that none is



The crow of a cock in the day

Might be complaints but you deem it praise

The meekness of a sheep might be folly

But your graceful thoughts attaches obedience

The stubbornness of the goat is unquestionable

But your nature makes it a trace of determination

And so it is

That you wired us with all the traits there are

Giving us will to select


You’re not just an Alpha and Omega

You’re not just Omnipotent, Omniscient and Omnipresent

You’re not just Elshadai, Elohim and Adonai

You are an all perfect God

Who hides the sun under rain

Hides the moon in the dark

Hides rain in thirst

And food in hunger

Can I complete the testament of your grace?

You hide tears in laughter

Greatness in slavery

Strength in weakness

And oh life in death!

Immortal, Invisible, only president of sages!

I worship thee

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 17, 2017


The beginning of bad thoughts

Marked the end of harmless nakedness

That I know


The beginning of birth

Birthed the beginning of death

That too I know


The beginning of want

Dug the endlessness of need

Well, took a while to harvest that on the tree of thought


Greed is sometimes a seed of need

Which felt thirst in the belly of hearts

And was boxed by hunger into anger in the loam of minds


What has turned puzzle

Wriggling its weight on my mind

Is what turns them snakes to bite themselves

Chewing some and hiding much under their land

Do they need the dawn of death

To see the handiwork of disaster

In their signature on themselves?

Chai! Common sense seems to hang on higher skies

To hearts in hurry for much

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) September 13, 2017


When rivers stood in their dreams

They forgot of days they acted as streams

And tasted filth, felt the sharp teeth of stones

And travelled miles in the lone

They, now in pride, bloat

As they on top of seas float

Blocking streams and rivers

Who in need of strength shiver in quivers

Forgetting tsunamis still have power

To on their happy fate tower

The future sure blinds

So we do need to mark our hinds

In this travel

Which in uncertainty wobble

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 15, 2017


The fascination of Ghanaians in watching the Mexican, South Korean, and Indian soaps has gone from ridiculous to worry. It is laughable to see a country once colonised, in the process of development, and still bemoaning the loss of most of our cultural values sink so low, aided and abetted by the media which has decided to break instead of make up for our cultural loss. The movie industry is a very powerful tool in every country. It is the tool used to showcase a country’s culture, which include values, morals, language, fashion, beliefs,  beauty, to mention but few. Ghanaians however, have chosen other country’s culture over ours, stifling the Ghana Movie Industry. The Hong Kong Movie industry stands at a whooping US $1.65  billion, Nollywood Film Industry is worth US $ 3.5 billion. With Hollywood grossing over 10 billion dollars annually, and South Korea’s movie industry drawing many tourists to them, why must we graze our own down to nothing? 

In today’s Ghana, hardly will you get a television station showcasing only one of these soaps, some run as many as four at a time and during prime time too. It is a fact that most Ghanaians take in what is given and end up getting obsessed with it. So I am not surprised when children burn because their parents go on telenovela hunting. Try listening to names of some children born in this era to telenovela enthusiasts.

The Ghana I grew to know was a place where decency was revered. It was an abomination to see couples kissing in public, married or not, let alone wearing inappropriate clothes in the name of fashion.

Now what do we see? Not only do women copy what they see through these telenovelas exhibiting their follies in the name of love, they also inculcate into their minds the low morals carried by these soaps. Now ridiculous happenings like two sisters fighting over a man, a father and son killing each other because of a woman, people loving their roles as antagonists caring less about what society considers ill, rule. I believe the most dehumanizing aspect is that people sit, with very prominent people who serve as role models to discuss these soaps on national televisions. And oh the killer; some stations even translate into the local Akan language infusing our cities and locally made products into them in their bid for advertisement. Is this not brainwashing? I would not be surprised if a mexican city is shown to telenovela enthusiasts in an exam and the singular answer turns out to be “Accra”. What are we doing to our country? 

Why will a Ghanaian help another Ghanaian to see himself or herself in a white frame? The very frame whose major population considers us inferior? And oh sometimes, the hyperbolic language translations and the pronunciation errors  pollute students whose parents can’t control them because of the fact that the soaps are everywhere. 

I know the media is a huge factor and may not help out in stopping this menace seen as a money making venture for broadcasting corporations, but in putting a stop to this, the cost involved in watching these things online will make it decrease and with time, the generation polluted will fade out. 

I believe this is a national manipulation which fester on the needs of the lonely and fantasies of illiterates, semi illiterates and bored literates. I know some do have moral lessons but their way of living is different from our ways and this further deteriorates the erosion of our culture. Why do we still kick against homosexuality when we allow such movies on our national screens? Do we not know that homosexuality rule in Mexican soaps and sometimes South Korean ones? Some attitudes and way of life are picked from movies, a fact.

It takes a radical and brave hearted to put a stop to something that has already become the norm, but I believe if investors and the government come together to encourage movie makers to come up with series that will not be based on insults and horrific follies, and they come out like Shirley Frimpong Manson’s Adam’s Apples, and Kumawood’s “Kumasi Yonko”, Ghanaians will fully embrace and lift our flag higher on the international market. Loving everyone’s but ours is the worst form of slavery. A canker only the media can spearhead to move this nation forward.

Information on best movie makers culled from https://infotainworld.com/top-10-biggest-film-industries-world/


We are like trees
Problems are like our earth

Each can’t be

If the earth refuses entry

Roots are like our will

Meandering through sand

Around rocks

On worms and running rats

Hunting water and food


We know God is at post

His all seeing eyes watching his little garden

Knowing the roots making him proud

Knowing the rocks arresting some wills

Seeing some waters drowning some roots

Seeing some worms eating away some roots

Seeing some sands even killing some roots

Cheering on the strongest to the end

In his unseen throne

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 11, 2017

​WORLD OF WAR (Crazy Stanzas)

I know not much

I am no Methuselah as such

But I do know whatever war touches

Does with chaos marches

Like monsters of the night, hurtful words hold no soothing balm

In their flight to the land of any mind

Like terrorists on their site, bullets have no hearts, hands or eyes

To root out revenge before landing on their targets

Like savages in hunger, swords have no allergies when feeding on human bodies

As obedient children in diligent works, arrows obey the hands which need their errand

Bombs know not their gods but work in their moments like tsunamis

Believe their chore for an enemy 

Will surely conceive naught but perfection

Know that moulded feuds lose their reasons with time

But feed fat on innocent lives

Lives whose souls begrudge without a cause

How long do hearts travel in beating

To force minds into scheming hatred,

Roasting plans of traps and

Cooking death formulas?

We are cotton strands in transient travels

Through the path of earth

We are stars who taste the palms of the sky

Once in a nightly travel

We are fireflies hopping on the arms of days into oblivion

We are but future memories

Waiting to be washed by dilutions

We are that which needs no complicated weavings

In apparels of mortality

We are minds which need to swim in seas of love

Until the mythical hands do hunt our breaths

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 8, 2017


There are many roots beneath a single tree

Yet it needs many others to break winds

There are many brooms running and breaking free

But their strength in numbers, all fear rescinds


Sometimes, even fecal worms, do space need

Sometimes, even water, do drops be

But a sea stands  more chance of waving at a shore

Than a drop of water


I need you

Like I need this breath in its running seconds

I need him

Like I need this body in every moment

I need her

Like I need this heart in its working beats

I need them

Like I need this earth in every  living sphere

I need us

As yam plants need their mounds


In the garnishing of age

On this queer me

This memory needs no sage

To know that wrinkles are sensitive to loneliness

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 7, 2017


One day

The mist of this pain will blur

As the reality of this living clears

Minds will think of me as a cloud

Which fell in a moment to give the thirsty rain

Not as a thirsty whose tears quenched the dryness in other throats

Under the drought of helplessness


One day

This running heartbeat will lose its mobility

The eyes which swam in an ocean of tears

Surrounded by oasis of fantasies

Built into a wall to deceive

Will receive its oblivion


One day

None will remember the sun baked tree grower

Murdered by lack of warmth

One whose oxygen harvest saw not its nostrils

Talk less of its food channel


One day

Every little sand this feet tasted

Will clear from the tongues of its soles

Every blessed breath will be imprisoned in history

Keys to that prison thrown into the abyss of forgetfulness

Eventually flying into nonexistence


One day

These puzzled alphabets 

Will play hide and seek

With new minds whose souls live on future’s passion trees

Shadows of these fingers who birthed them

Would have fallen into its doomed darkness


One day

Just one day

This given life will end with its strife

The best days will be but wrappers

On its boxed remains in fond minds

Sighs of relief will heave from begrudged hearts

Then I would reach the dock I seek

For now

Crawl on, ye tired soul

With all your heavy laden

Your veins belong not to you

But to skins and blood in covering

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 3, 2017


In celebration is the key

Of seeing you and I as we

And learning to in harmony be

Like a mighty flock of bees


In solemn prayers is the need

To all intimidatory sins, like bothering weeds, weed

Making sure all mouths feed

Giving respect to all living seeds


We are a living flock

With a mighty ticking clock

We can easily run amok

But we sure are grave stocks


Let Allah!

Let Allah lead us far

Leaving his fights so our plans won’t mar

His punishments and lessons to all living bars

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 1, 2017