UNCANNY ASSOCIATIONS (CRAZY STANZAS)


Legs take crowns to ordered places

To taste the grounds of its worship

Hearts engine dreams

To feel the pulse of success in the end

Tongues channel foods to intestines

To sip a taste from every bite

All the above with pinches of truth

Our elders did us in with some wise sayings

You lick the crown of your teeth no matter how bitter it tastes

Better a good thing at home

So many minds, like rehearsed fingers

Play the tune of mischief

The anthills and griffonia simplicifolia have no need to thank each other

A favourite proverb carved by sages in their peak of wisdom

But the anthills gain the same worth as the griffonia simplicifolias

Now modernity seems to present replays of uncanny comparisons

To anthills and their griffonia simplicifolias


II

Instead of maintaining moisture to aid their anthills 

In times of drought

They, like moths on living bodies, search for weak spots

To induce death

So they can eat once and for all

Forgetting they are the very essence of their living

Oh, maybe they know near bodies in wait for exploitation

Which winds weaved us into this wickedness?


III

What are lions who chew their tails in their bid to quench hunger?

What are beings who chew their fingers in their craving for meat?

What are eagles who cut their wings

In their bid to fly higher?

Amazing the brains defecated out of the bowels of greed!

When will wise wits win the war of wicked winning whores?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 30, 2017

I AM FROM

I am from a land whose hair is gold

Chin is salt

Stomach is petroleum

And feet are rocks

I am from the heart of the strong

II

I am from a land boxed by colonialism

But with a strength which broke free

And stands in the wrestling ring with corruption

A country whose women have seen it all

Beauty for tags

Success for witchcraft

Barrenness for accursed

But still stand as the glue of families

Outshining their labels and harvesting reverence

III

I am from a home with wise breasts

So sucked respect from the nipples of customs

Sucked care from the breast milk of our conventions

Sucked hospitality from the mouth of nature

While holding the feet of our elders

Preparing for better succession

IV

Here, elephants live in respect of beings

Lions live in care with us

Crocodiles watch from distances so do pythons

As warthogs welcome us into meditation

When we reach the arms of Mole

V

Here

We hail our ancestors in the protection of our nature

We kneel at the feet of the almighty to cry for worth, life and protection

As the created of our creator

Here, we laugh from the bottom of our souls

A land where loneliness is banished by brotherliness

Sisterhood

And relations

I am from the sitting place of the sun

Where sun rays have been weaved into my crown

And moons lead in mischievous dark nights

I am from

I am proudly from

I am so proudly from

Ghana, nursed from the navel of the Gold Coast

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 29, 2017

Meet Oppong Benjamin Clifford, the Civil Engineer and Writer

Our Guest Post for today is Oppong Benjamin Clifford, an engineer and writer. You are welcome to amoafowaa.com.

CF: Thank you, dear. I’ve been following the good works you’ve been doing in the literary circles of Ghana. And I give it to you in strong terms of recommendation ever to continue as such.
AMOAFOWAA: Thank you. Please tell us about yourself from parents to what you do now. Briefly though

CF: Well, Oppong Clifford Benjamin was born with a twin sister to Mr. and Mrs. Oppong in a small town called Prestea in the Western Region. I had a normal upbringing like most Ghanaians. I’m now a Civil Engineer and Postgraduate Student at both the Moscow State University of Civil Engineering and University of Education, Kumasi campus.
AMOAFOWAA: So how and when did you start writing?

CF: When! How! Honestly, I don’t even know how it all started but I will try hard to put a when to it all. I should think in Junior Secondary School, we had an amazing English Language teacher called A. G. Osei (may his gentle soul rest in perfect peace) who insisted we wrote a lot of essays and poems each week. He extolled the best essayist or poet in the strongest of praising words at the time. And it was always pleasing and honouring for me whenever I came first. This practice yielded creative writers in our class. However, I never gave writing a serious look until much later in 2012 when I met Sir Kukogho Iruesiri Samson, the founder of WRR (the largest poetry sharing platform in Africa based in Nigeria) and multiple awards winning poet. He mentored, taught and coached me in poetry writing. In December 2013, the WRR awarded me the Ghana poet of the year in Nigeria during the annual WRR contemporary African poetry festival held at the University of Ibadan. And in December 2016, the WRR invited me again to the annual poetry festival, this time, to give the guest lecture on my academic paper Noetic Sciences: the power of our intentions as writers.  However, I have still not had the courage to call myself a writer. Maybe, we can say I am a student of creative writing.
AMOAFOWAA: The engineering you, does he practise or aims to?

CF: I practise engineering. I’m currently working with the Electricity Company of Ghana (ECG). What I’m rather aiming at is to be a lecturer of a civil engineering course in a technical university in the near future.
AMOAFOWAA: How many publications do you have now?

CF: Number of publications! *surprised face* Erhmm…… I’ve written a cute book which is a collection of short stories titled The Virgin Mother and Other Short Stories. It’s my debut book and it was published by Forte publishing house in Monrovia, Liberia. My poems have appeared in some anthologies across the continent, the very celebrated one is Portor Portor edited by the Liberian poet Forte Othniel, an educator based in Thailand. It brought together only twelve poets across the world, and I was humbled to have had the opportunity to be featured alongside seasoned poets like Prof. Althea Romeo-Mark, lecturer of creative writing at a university in Switzerland and Jack Kolkmeyer in the USA. Also, my poems have been published in the KWEE magazine. In case online publications do count then we are looking at quite a number. Notable among those are the ones published by WRR, Nigeria, Poetry bits, India, Brittle paper, Nigeria, My joy online, Ghana, The African Dream, USA, The UK poetry library, UK. Maybe I can also add that I have an upcoming poetry chapbook titled Poems From A Womanizer’s Wife, a completed manuscript of erotic series called The Making of Orgiastic Cyprian, a completed manuscript of a novel titled The Freemason and The Boy and also sitting on my laptop is another collection of short stories waiting to be edited.
AMOAFOWAA: Who do you read and which writers do you take inspiration from?

CF: I read novels mostly but write poetry often. Strange huh! Once awhile I read some few poetry books I have in my personal library which includes Poetry Excursion on an African Mind by your cute self. Cecilia, your book has really been resourceful in my poetry journey so far. Honestly, I’m glad you wrote those poems. Well, talking of writers who inspire my art, I will put Paulo Coelho first on a long list. That man’s The Alchemist had a great influence on me, it made me set off to write The Freemason and The Boy, and so are many other of his books which I have read. He’s my role model, actually. He will be followed by Dan Brown whose Da Vinci Code and The Lost Symbol shaped my narrative and descriptive writing in a way. Kukogho Iruesiri Samson’s I said these words and What Can Words do are both very intriguing poetry books that have influenced my style of poetry. Another poet I have fallen in love with recently is Romeo Oriogun, the Brunel International African Poetry Prize winner for 2017. His award-winning chapbook Burnt Men just blows my mind away. He is just a perfect poet for me. 

Cecilia, please, don’t let me continue, the list is endless in truth. Tell me to shut up, please.
AMOAFOWAA: Lol. What is the correlation between engineering and writing?

CF: You are about the hundredth person to ask me this question. And each time, I only smile and walk away. So forgive my manners, bye. Kill me!
AMOAFOWAA: Tempted to ask why but won’t. Are you a feminist? If yes why? If no why?

CF: The word is now disgusting to some of us. So I would rather say a bitter No! And watch the many young girls who have taken social media as a medium to besmirch the honourable cause of feminism. Allow me to drink my beer in peace joor. 

AMOAFOWAA: Single, married or attached?

CF: I’ve been waiting for this question like a pregnant woman. Please, I am single and happy. Not searching, not mingling. There’ve been times I contemplated on sologamy – marriage to oneself. So I even wrote a poem about it in my upcoming chapbook. 

AMOAFOWAA: Wow! Define a writer in a sentence.

CF: A writer is a creator of a universe.
AMOAFOWAA: Cool. What are your hobbies?

CF: Reading and having sex with myself. No! Not masturbation. It’s called sex. 
AMOAFOWAA: Interesting. If you are given the chance to be the Togo president, with the ongoing chaos, what would you have done?

CF: I would have accepted a reform of the constitution to allow fair democracy to prevail. Thus, if I were Faure Gnassingbe, I would be ashamed of myself and my family for redefining fair governance to be a dynasty and step down peacefully. I don’t know the thing with some African leaders and greed. Well, I don’t like talking politics too much in public. 
AMOAFOWAA: Choose between love and occupational success and justify your choice.

CF: “Who love epp?” Who has been helped by love? It is always an occupational success for me, dear. I don’t even need to justify my stance. I don’t care about love, period. Beer, please.
AMOAFOWAA: Religion is a trap of human extinction. Do you agree?

CF: I don’t want to answer this question. I hope you will forgive me, but for now, you’re right to frown at me. 
AMOAFOWAA: What makes you proud as a Ghanaian?

CF: Many things. I tell you what; Ghanaians have some intellectual image abroad, especially in other African countries because of names like Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, Kofi Annan and quite a number of others too. So I’m really proud of the respect foreigners have for me whenever I tell them I’m from Ghana. Another thing is our peaceful and hospital nature. Ghana has been an epitome of democracy for other African countries. 
AMOAFOWAA: Any challenges you face as a writer?

CF: Yes….yes. Too many challenges like procrastination, laziness, inability to write even a sentence after sitting behind my laptop for hours. Also, there are those difficulties with finding a value for your work, getting even a publisher and other personal challenges.
AMOAFOWAA: What are your innermost desires, list three.

CF: My holiest prayer to God has always been ‘Dear God, please keep me alive. Amen.’ Therefore my desirous desires are: to live long enough to own a countryside house in a forest, a house overlooking a calm river; to own a laptop in my sixties to write all the stories life has given me over the past sixty years; to own a small teapot with a white ceramic cup in my sixties and finally to have a lot of beer to keep me.  
AMOAFOWAA: May you live long! Your favourite song of all times.

CF: My favourite song is also my ringtone. Titanium by David Guetta feat Sia. 
AMOAFOWAA: What is your best line in Ghana’s National Anthem?

CF: And help us to resist oppressors’ rule

With all our will and might forever more.

AMOAFOWAA: Your advice to followers of amoafowaa.com

CF: This will mean I would have to advise myself and others. Hahahaa. Keep reading and patronizing the best of literature. Mum C as some of us like to call her is one great inspiration for many young Ghanaian writers and has been consistent in bringing the very best of Ghanaian literature. 
AMOAFOWAA: Well, flattered. Where can we get your books to buy?

CF: You can buy soft copies on Amazon. For print copies, you can contact me via mobile phone number +233243129401, I’m on facebook as Oppong Clifford Benjamin, Instagram as oppcliffben and twitter handle @glencliffben. Thank you.

THE STRONG HEARTED

There are many in this struggle

This struggle which many with death wishes juggle

But you consider every challenge wealth

Even if doors of hope are shut

You own the scissors which sulking cuts

One pushed from the cliff of good health

To start from the dungeons of death

Right back to the mountain of health

One whose words resonate in satiric sarcasms

With a heart conflicted in healing many afflicted

One whose mind is a need of most

Your ink sure will get noisy soles

And will surely walk on big stages

As years wear clothes of ages

Oh Oppong upon whose shoulders sit buckets of ink!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 30, 2017

RAIN YOUR FAVOURS

The sky lies emotionless

Far from pates of the helpless

Who like dead wood, are visibly drowning in seas of sadness

I know your heart bleeds for all your seeds

Lord of the earth! Rain your favours!

II

The earth sits hard in a sky battle

Uprooting supporting trees

Breaking bones of all fallen

Whose skins weep at their red tears

As veins plead for their well being

So blood can freely flow

Like desperados, they pray at thy feet

Lord of healers! Rain your favours!

III

Many are confined in shackles of poverty

Losing loved ones as horrifying as their beheading

Their tears like a fountain

Flowing from spirit to soul

Soul to body in shameful repetitions

Oh Lord of hosts! Rain your favours!

IV

I know some have been tied by ropes of lies

And taken into caves of den-like prisons

Watched keenly by judging ignoramuses

Their hearts, their only true testifiers

Yet with no legs to walk into interrogation boxes

To free their hosts

Lord of lords! Rain your favours!

V

Societal expectations are burning the wicks of many lives

Their non conformity, an enemy to their loved ones

Raining loneliness on them

Even in the midst of many

Lord of firsts! Rain your favours!

VI

There are lost souls following greed bowls

Thinking they hold keys to their heaven

And like sheep, tied to poles of manipulations

Bleating only on orders of fake instructions

Lord of all! Rain your favours!

VII

You see the winds of trouble in the lives of all

You know the standing tall and the hurt in fall

You know the caged and hopping eagles

You know hearts being baked in ovens of unfairness

You know the best paths of multiple paths at the junction of dilemmahood

You do know of owls whose eyes mark pitiful ants

In a treeless and soilless realm

Lord of mercy! Do rain your favours!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 29th October, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics.

​IF I KNEW I WOULD BURY MY SEED


If I knew I would bury my seed

And feel the rot which my happiness bought

And rock the cot which cries of cold

I wouldn’t have bothered in its plantation


II

If I knew the ways of death

And of its throat

Which swallowed more than pythons

In a realm where my eyes can’t reach

I wouldn’t have formed for it a pet

Which it would take from my Love’s nest


III

I know I have no power to make

I know I have no power to break

I know I have no power to take

But why does my heart so shake?


IV

Call death to my pain’s court!

Call death to my sorrow’s fort!

Call death to my darkness ring

To show a face which hosts the mouth

To show the mouth which hosts the tongue

That took my seed without a note

So I can touch the soul of my soul

So I can touch the heel of my myth

To be an addition or an exchange deal

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 28, 2017

​THINGS FALL APART


Worship is in a sea of destruction

Being torn apart by most of their sailors’ deceptions

Shot by sins which once sat

In front of their potent rifles

Their congregants scattering

For fear of lions of confusions

And bugs of distrust


II

It seems those days are cutting their rope ties

From the chariot of religion

Passions of sluggishness growing with every blast of greed

Temples are fast turning into market places

Many places of worship are now like brothels

Sacred places now act as chaotic as a gambling spot

There are temples of demeaning courts

Severing umbilical cords of the surrendered

From mythical existences

Who planted the moths in this living created?


III

Far eyes see a day

When Christ will turn myth unrecognised

When other prophets will turn stories in mock laughter

When science will take over heads and hearts and highs in every realm

I may be the sand under unknown feet

One thing is clear

These words, born on an easing pot

Will sound loudly in the echoes of my voice

In this worldly cave

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 27, 2017

ANIMAL TAILS IN HUMAN TROUSERS

(This poem was written in memory of all those who have lost their lives due to defilement, all those who are battling complications, battling stigmatization, battling injustices due to defilement, and rape. You have done nothing wrong, you are just unfortunate souls caught in the traps of the wicked. The wicked who one way or the other will pay for your hurt.)

Roses have thorns of protection

Fishes have fins

Tortoises have hard shells

So why did you create a pot with no protective fence?

II

You made us softer like moist clay

You made us fragile like cotton in the wind

With huge responsibilities of making the world

You made us houses with no wire fences

You made us vulnerable to pests and preys and parasites

What was your plan?

III

A youngster lies in her struggling bed

Her pride box broken into by one with your will

One with a talking conscience

One who knows the boarders of hurt and dishonour

One whose land lord umbrellas him from the rains of justice

Oh your architecture might have had an error!

Blasphemy, I know

But even you can’t tamper with a writer’s licence in freedom

IV

Look and make us your experimentation

To build better us in future days

So claws can fence holes of pleasure

In our proper protection

Look and make them your experimentation

To give proper locks in future

So in their wake with horror intents

Their locks will hold them in

That will only be fair

That will surely be fair

That will certainly be fair

In this jungle of struggle

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 27, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics

AS I WAIT

As I wait patiently for you

Counting the marks on this pleasureless ceiling

While lonely canes whip in these dark nights

Anytime sleep goes on its rebellious demonstrations

Are you thinking of me?

II

As I walk these days

Carrying thoughts of you in dilemmahood

As to your existence or nonexistence

Chased by flies of frustrations

Punished by bed bugs of needy thoughts

Are you thinking of me?

III

Anytime dawn cries in my mock deception

And early cocks cut through my little sleep

With machetes of crowing

Painting my eyes with sores of restlessness

Waking a parliament of thoughts in the court of my mind

Are you thinking of me?

IV

It will be a shame for your banana

To pleasure hungry and vulnerable mouths

In a shameless succession

As I wait in anticipation for our meeting

So I ask even in this apostrophecal madness

Are you thinking of me?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 26, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

LUCK

There are flies born on a sugar plantation

And like blessed tongues live entirely on the sweet

There are eagles born to hens

And like accursed birds, live taking instructions from their meals

Luck is the stamp of fate


II

When the wind blows rain water into the sea

It does it good

Can same be said of blowing it onto fecal matter?

Where were wits when winners won

When losers licked the feet of God for mercy?

Luck is the stamp of fate


III

Let not those born on anthills

See those below as their grounds

Severe winds can blow them down

For luck is a sentimental monster

Which shows no sympathy for its former gods

Yes, luck is the stamp of fate

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 26, 2017

ODOMANKOMAH

My breaths are best in your flow

My heartbeats are best in your machinations

My steps are best in your architecture

My will is best in your seal

Oh Odomankomah! My redeemer!
II

You are the river of blood in my veins

You are the air of life in my daily keep

You are my pill of sleep and my pill of wakefulness!

The beginning of my breath and my resting place

You are the only soul food with no price tag

Oh Odomankomah! My provider!
III

As time marks days into months into years

The sun sees diversity in its bright sight

The moon sees variety in its gentle sight

But you who sees it all, never changeth!

Oh Odomankomah! My strongest fort!
IV

Every part of me belongs to thee so my dedication is fruitless

Every pore in me is your wiring so my every feeling is touchless

Every smell is your channel of blessing 

So my appreciation is nonsensical

But I write your blessing in my heart

In my every step and sound

Odomankomah! My world!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©  October 22, 2017

​THE CHASE OF THE PAST


There are many with flies from the past

Singing in their ears

In a chorus of success

Blocking out lyrics of routes

Driving off trains of talents

If only they can find smoke to ward off their flies


II

There are many being chased by bees of the past

Stinging dry their peace of mind

Planting sores on their bodies of progress

Making their prestigious veins honeycombs

And their bodies shadows in darkness

If only they can find some fires to ward off the bees


III

There are those being followed by lions of their past

Roaring senseless their serenity

Chewing off their hope

Hunting dead their help

And scratching off their eyes

Branding them blind 

And dragging them into the lairs of poverty

If only they can get spears and arrows and guns

To fight off their monsters!


IV

In a world where day battles night

In the field of the sky

In a world where east looks into the face of the west

In vice-versahood

In a world where kingdoms vary in habitations

It will take skill for a fish to taste a land without waters

It will take skill for beings to taste the sky without ropes

It will take skill for a worm to share a tree with a hungry bird

Let all fight off chasing monsters

In this forest of conflict

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 18th October, 2017

​THIS FEAST OF THE STRONG

On this dining table
Sits gluttonous greed

Whose hunger, all the food, in quench, unable

Connivance knows but stooges for crumbs

Forgetting the coming with roaring bellies

Whose eyes may never see the feast

Forgetting the frail

Whose bodies can go nowhere near the monstrous Greed

Forgetting the children whose growth

Depend on the nutrients of the present


II

Looting has now become tickets for everything

Yet pennies of paupers are forced from the hearts of their pockets

Into the stomachs of pockets of greed

Oh ye sleeping gods of the land!

Please wake!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 15th October, 2017

IN MY GENDERFULNESS

There is this air around mine
That many of yours claim is fine

But to get through most streets there is a whine

Of how many legs in us must dine
II

Our mouths are like toffees in thy eyes

Our cheeks look like handkerchiefs in thy sight

Our breaths sound like tickling airbags in thy mind

And when your eyes scroll down our natural chest

All you see are delicious milk jars

And it follows through to our “goldmines”

Mines which “enrich” your devilish greed

So cause your craze and faze your morality

Rubbishing our mind’s efforts
III

In a world where dresses must lose to muscled shirts

In order to pass through most streets of success

Where does fairness sit

In this healthy intellectual struggle?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 16, 2017

​CALL THEM

As hands in drowning wave
Do, mouths whose garnished promises flee, call

To the destitute save

Lest we all fall


II

As needs outweigh our feeds

Do all, in patriotic shed blood, call

To drive the spirit which on our minds feeds

So our confidence will stand tall


III

As green spirits are being, from their bodies, ejected

Do, all alien priests call

To open the gates of heaven for all the rejected

In unsynced bodies in its hall


IV

Eyeballs shaking like tsunamis on the dock

Senses tied in darkness and in lock

Bodies following enemies like a flock

Don’t you see your future’s shock?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©15th October, 2017

ASEDA

Any comfortable visitor

Who fails to thank the landlord

Is worse than the worst of sneaking snakes

“Otwereduampong! 

Ananafo mu Nana! Kokromoti a yensan wo ho mbɔ pɔ”

I serve my thanksgiving in the plate of my being


II

You built these bones as builders use stones

You laid these veins as plumbers lay pipes

You wired these pores as electricians wire their houses

Carved this being as carvers carve their best crafts

And connected your living magic to turn me on life

Like a magic television

With freedom in mobility and will


II

As I bridge storms and cross mountains

You hold on to my saving rope

To open the gates of another day with a flower of hope

Erasing my disgusting moping

Turning my past hurts into present jokes

How do I neglect your thanksgiving?


III

You are that one wall which never shakes

You are that one love that never breaks!

You are that one sky which always clears

You are the permanent tunnel which never clogs

You are the breath tree which never dies

Nor succumbs to any form of cutting

“Awura mu Owura!

Ahenfo mu Ɔhene!

Animdeɛfo mu Nimdeɛfo!”

I say thank you from the beginning of my thread of life

Through its lighting till its wick burns out!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 15th October, 2017

​FORGET ME NOT

Sitting on the chair-like forget-me-not

You promised to keep our love hot

To the hearing of the inquisitive air

And all nature that is fair

I remember the clouds turn up

In their darkest colour

And sent their rains to record the promise

Many months saw not the veil of a year

But here I am being looked upon  by a tree whose name box out my sadness

Like a cursed fly in a cry

Suddenly, heat roasts the sweat out of these pores

Pores which are sore but all ignore

Those horrid clouds hide like they were never born

As the airs act strangers, shielding their elder siblings

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 14, 2017

​THE NATION OF LOVE

Citizens are protected

Protected by the laws of the land

Laws which beat and lock and kill to fill voids

How is it that the nation of love has no laws?


II

When disappointment hovers around its appointments

Chaos hides behind its partitions of glitters

Pain waits in chambers of the capital of its royalties

And tears stand behind its deceptive happiness

How does the nation of love 

Maintain its supremacy without legislative rules?


III

From villages of serenity

To  cities of heartbreaks

Waters of fulfilment to droughts of shame

Satisfaction in completion to hunger of loneliness

How come no security stands guard on this dangerous ground?


IV

Despite the punches of leftovership

And the assault of bond breakages

Where fears form clouds of tears and rain sleepless nights amidst monstrous jeers

How is it that no court exists for justice?

Is the nation of love like a phantom?

Or more like a catastrophe hidden in a fantastic parcel?

Is it like a sugar coated toffee

Hoarding sours which chews tongues and uproots teeth?

Bees of its publicity abounds 

First as butterflies

Oh ye nation whose memories cannot be erased!

A nation which favours the unfavoured 

With an allure none can resist!

I leave your fort in the now to show your bruises

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 13, 2017

​NO BRA DAY

Mobile breasts

Marching on breast cancer day

Pickaxes of manly tubers

*****************************

Locomotive breasts 

On horses of varied chests

Beautifully nectared flowers on the go

*********************************

Heads in weird rhythms

Sip from advocacy cups

Not sticks of naughty passions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 13, 2017

PERSPECTIVES

​The stance of an eye

And its distance

Determines the visions thereof

Like plants in the different pores of the earth

We stand in view of a portion

So how can our mouths be in judgement seats

Audienced by other eyes and ears

In marking right from wrong?


II

God may appear in different beings things and souls

To different beings, things and souls

An eye may see God in a river

A river another deem his chamber pot

Another may see Him in another being

A being who may seem foolish to another

Another may see Him in the sky

The sky which some consider only in lightning and darkening plate

Some skin may feel Him in words

Words which act noise in the ears of others

There are those who see Him in animals

Animals which serve as delicacies to others

What about those who see Him in stones?

Stones which are naught but hindrance to some farmers

So who has the best eyes to judge?


III

Who has the best eyes to judge?

I believe it is none but an ignorant crown

Who sees and knows only what society plastered in his mind

Let thinking minds sit into digging

Digging best from the knowledge of what is

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 13, 2017

​A MAP FOR PASSIONS (ADULT POETRY)

Stars have their spots

When the curtains of daylight fall

There, they shine brightest

There, they sync well in their work of lighting

This body, is like your sky of darkness

Take a tour and know the star spots


II

Your fingers are like combs for a reason

Planted hair needs its massaging fertility

To like a bee, make its honey of passion

So let them explore the hair plantation

And weed the stress which hide beneath


III

Your food gate is with air for a reason

Feed the skin with gentle blows and touches

To, like electricity

Light the bulb of passion

One that can lead you in your needed explorations


III

A fountain needs a clear tube for water to dazzlingly show

Like a good plumber

Match the tubes and lay well your pipes

Connect them to the river of the body

And let it flow

Before thinking of a pleasure swim


IV

Swim with a gentle step after another

Jumping in like a big excited fish

Will sure splash waters on a perfect dock

Laying traps of slippery grounds

For unsuspecting issues



V

Be sure to swim from dock and back

Do not drown in the middle of your man made river

Many fishes will see your failure

And the river will curse your weakness


VI

Do lock bodies like a secured padlock

To mark your happiness

And only open with the key of satisfaction

For then, all calm will be restored

And the seeds of love would be thoroughly watered

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 12, 2017

Photo Credit: Googlepics

SOLILOQUY

How do I find my way?

In this jungle of life

Where fangs chase on this careless mother earth

As claws chase in the indifferent sky?


II

How do I find my way?

When hurtful thorns are ever ready to butcher my skin

And have them on their necks as conquerors?

Hisses with poisonous spittle

Drive vehicular air

Air which has promised breath until old age umbrellas!

How? 

Just how do I find my way?


III

Owl eyes hide in the dark to scare

Hungry lionesses hunt in a determined chase

Cunning alligators act chameleons to mislead

As my sunlight serves its lifetime in an imprisoned dark cloud

How? Just how do I find my way

In this jungle where everything hunts in ambition?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 12th October, 2017

DETERFLY

The butterfly which sits on the tip of an uneatable leaf

In hope of a wind taking it to the flower with a nectar cup

Without lifting its healthy wings in direction

Is bound to blame its God 

For the sluggish crime of itself


II

The mosquito which sits on a pore for long,

Like a hungry glutton on its delicacy,

Hoping to fill its tank for a lifetime

Never lives to tell the tale of the elderly


III

Heads are carried for a reason

Skins are shed in its season for a reason

Thinking wires need no pickaxes

In digging meaning from words of sages

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 11, 2017

​A KITTEN IN THE LION’S SEAT

If historic eyes had seen this future

Where a kitten mounts a lion’s seat

They sure would have cemented their feet

And stopped the clock

Before seeing their shadows fall


II

How can a kitten paw fit into a lion’s?

How can a kitten rule over fierce tigers?

Golden fishes?

Huge elephants?

Fearsome crocodiles?

Mischievous monkeys?

Wise snakes?

Egoistic eagles?

Prying owls?

Huge cows?

Loud dogs?

Fiery dragons?

And all other characters in the golden jungle?


III

If only the kitten will mute the horrifying weak meows

Carried through the strong crown of a microphone

Onto the ear plates of the world

In ridicule of the golden jungle

If only its kitten plays

Would take place on an eyeless and earless stage!

If only it would allow baby lions to train its zero brain

If only, if only


IV

Now far eyes like mine look in sympathy

At the golden stool which taunted many into fools

Then into working bulls 

To climb to their prestigious peak

Knowing the disaster being written in its deserving history

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 10, 2017

​TOOTHLESS DOGISM


Our breaths have been marked

Marked for the roars of freshness

And the silence thereafter like that of toothless dogs


II

Our sad songs continue on world stages

But why do sympathies sit uninterested

Sipping their “serves you right” wines

Even as our hurtful passions sync with their instruments?


III

Could it be the need for quarter buttocks

To get the glue of octagonism

On the famed seat of governance

Through playing saints into stooging to please us into teasing in deceasing?


IV

Or our baby milk lacks the willpower to stand for the right

Erasing pain in forgetful insanities

Making troubles into strong footballs

Knocking us down and bouncing back in hitting

When we stand back on our feet in repetitive annoyance?


V

Our elders lied not

When they said forgetting pain begs for more

Yet we defy their stance like disobedient children

Pouring lives through unfair death colanders

Which wicked gods follow us in white man’s sneakers?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 8, 2017

​MY FAVOURITE PARTS ON YOU (ADULT POETRY)


I know you are a perfect piece

Parts carefully fitted into a whole

Just as the sun completes daylight, 

You, in this time complete me

Love is a vehicle, ridden through the test of time

With prompts and bumps and tips and dips

Bringing me to my favourite parts of you


II

Your hands which weed my shreds

And till my land

Digging stumps and planting goosebumps

In these pores

In preparation for a great planting


III

Your mouth which sings my praises

And its red towel which feeds my toffees 

And drinks from the twin pots well filled by nature

And oh, the careful working

In the hidden bowl into lickhood

Calling in the moisture of heat

Which moaning beats in drumming

And when it gently takes the hearing cup

The heavens open to throw in needed pleasure

Gifting us a coupling leisure


IV

Your eyes

Which travel into knowing

And softens into taking cues

Seeking approval after careful permissions

Showing the most adorable pictures of me

Like a world class channel


V

Your pestle

From the best tree with great nutrients

Shaped into standing tall

Carved into my falling call

The sweetest taste of a never finishing lollipop

Never thought I could give any pestle much rain to passions drain

When it, like the angelic congregational knight

Enters my beautiful temple in loving prayers

And when it sings to the rhythm of nature

I can do naught but be the best backing vocalist

Until we climb to the peak of passion’s mountain

And blend into orgasmic submissiveness



VI

Your chest

The best place for my pampered head

Never thought my best pillows could host a better rival

In my explorations into meditation

That space in time fits my dreamlike cocoon

You sure are my best me

My best parts on you fitting into the fantasy you are

Blessed me in my dreamy you!

A joint conquerers in singular charm!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 7, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics

​THE GIRL COMING OUT OF THE SHADOW

The dark is a cool place to hide

But a cruel place to be

Every leg can boot, step on her

Every spittle can fall on, bathe her

Every phlegm can plaster, plaster her

Every urine can shower, shower her

Every fecal matter can smear, smear her like disgusting pomade

And no sweat can be seen

Sad, that many a man, feel it is a place for a lass


II

Beauty is a blessing, many agree

But beauty has broken deep into hymens and has been blamed for existing

Beauty has been to many a cruel court

And lost battles uncountable

Beauty has been rendered mouthless by many a man’s greed

Like a flower at birth, beauty mostly dies a rag

What then is the difference between a blessing and a curse in the feminine line?


III

Be beautiful by being a bull

Ridden, hidden, ladened, maddened, frightened or killed!

Hide in the heat of a veil

To tempt not the saints!

Let the sound of your voice taste not the ears of others

Be the dog of man, living for his pleasures and whims!

What at all rooted the birther as slave to the birthed?


IV

He must go and you must stay

Explorations best fit pestles and not mortars!

Such an uncanny law

As if fufu sees the light of day without a mortar!

I am ashamed of the many brains buried untapped

Pained by the many wills imprisoned at birth

Hurt by the many ambitions sentenced to death by societal courts

Frustrated at the many souls, lost to the evils of the dark


V

Shadows within shadows!

Amazing the sprouts of minds on this farm land of life

Minds hitherto buried like tubers of yam in the heat of the earth

And left rotten

Minds planted in painful marriages

And killed by servitude and abuse coupled with neglect

What beauty stands!

How lovely the rains of emancipation!

Falling to fertilize the birth of girly can-dos!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 7, 2017

​IN A FOOL’S HARDY

Once Kwaku Ananse met a Baboon

One who was fetching water with a basket from a river

At the feet of a mountain

Into a drum at the pate of the mountain

Out of pity for an artificial brain tiring a living body

He stopped to help

He called on the Baboon to use his pot

But then he rejected

With the excuse that the pot is too fragile

Agya Ananse asked when it started its chore

With a foresight of pointing to its futility

Baboon mentioned a week and a half

As to who ordered the chore

His partner at the farm on which only he worked into readiness

Baboon insisted the basket needed air

And that God will miraculously help fill the tank

If he worked in dedication

Agya Ananse realized, that the baboon loved its state

And had made its fate

Any attention to him tainted his sagehood

And so it was, that Ananse left Baboon

On his chore whose core point would be his death

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 6, 2017

​A TEACHER

Every teacher is a potter
One who digs the clay of the mind

And gives it moisture

Amidst pounding and kneading

To get the right texture

Setting it on the wheel in direction

To mould the right item  through heat in finality


II

Every teacher is a farmer

One, who prepares the land of all ready minds

For knowledge planting

Choosing the best seed based on the type of soil

Is a teacher’s blessing in wisdom

Knowing the weeds which will burden

And finding time to weed them out of the planted 

Is a natural duty 


III

Every teacher is a driver

A driver of the unenlightened to enlightened destinations

Knowing not the right route will cause the loss of all passengers

Driving without a license will cause unnecessary delays

A driver knows that time is imperative to all on board

A corrupt driver shows quick and diabolic routes to passengers

Power drunkenness and speed can cause a fatal accident


IV

A teacher is like a writing god

One who writes not on pads but in mind

One whose mistakes have no ready erasers

One whose soil lives on his dictate in fertility

One who can make and break

There is no greater life led not in teaching

A teacher is a director

A director of all minds

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 5, 2017

​THE POTS CALLED BREASTS

I have known rivers that have run out
Their sleeping places weeping on blame of thirst

But you in your small spots

On varied chests, feed the world

From vacant suckers to the teeth full 


II

Not only do you subdue man

Into knowing his forever child-like nature

You give women the pride of shape

Our pampering, even in loving runs

Telling tales of your value

Oh you pots which never run useless!


III

The standing you, order many into bonkerhood

The fallen you tell of your good works in world building

You are like a sea on the softer man

A sea in which many swim into sanity and or insanity

You are the manna for the world’s new visitors!

The clutches of passion!

The honour of world feeding!


IV

We know many stifle you in showcasing

We know many anoint you into a man charm

We know many suffocate you in clothes coated in dirt

We do know of those who never pay heed to you

But make sure you honour your duties

But these would never make you less of the saviour you are

You are the first food of man

The first teacher of tongues in sweets and sours

So your celebration remains a ritual

Even if mouths sing not of your goodies

Pots whose food never run out

Some call your younger you titties

And your elderly, tartars

Others call you boobs

We know you as breasts

Pairing angels in tender feeding!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©October 4, 2017