Walking back into the deserted forest of the past
I see sands of regrets
Watered by sweats of ghostly marathons in vain cheer
With tears acting as pickaxes
Digging gullies on once promising lands
Gullies draining dreams conceived from enthusiastic sacrifices
How I wish mouths stayed behind on journeys of death!
Look at fingers pointing at others
Neglecting the many fingers pointing at themselves!
Look at smiles massaging egos
While curses jump in racing chests!
Look at paid limbs digging graves for development
Forgetting death goes with immobility!
Look at me looking at me
On grounds of judgement even in my attachment
As fear runs through my veins battling blood!
Look at work crying out for attention
Yet neglected like unwanted wives
While muscles chase skirts of sluggishness!
I wish voices of reason lived in a crusade each day
In every head!
Africans with weeping ancestors!
Africans sitting on wealth and living papers!
Africans being Africans in the uglies
Sidelining the beautiful
Mind of lions and lionesses
Acting cats and dogs!
Listen to the tears from Afar!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 25, 2018
The boldness of darkness in deceptive acquisition
Is a mystic and hypocritical existence
Which abhors the steps of light
Even in far distances
It’s a little wonder legs turn three
Moving without support for the third
Chests grow mounds
Hoping with no straps for decorum
When the law chases
Wigs are rigs in these digs
For they easily come off
Leaving mess on exhibition
And baldness to the knocks of cold
And the burning heat of the sun
It’s a little wonder stooging knees
Turn laughing teeth
When traps of the law fetches stool games
Ah! Norms Are Sticks
When the law chases!
You know there’d be fans
There’d be tongues calling for bans
They’d be minds mum with fear
And hearts delighted to share
Still there’d be fence sitters
Oh let’s see the bright side
No fecal matter sits in caught bellies
When the law chases
Shame for honour
Rags for respect
Hate for love
Kin for stranger
Friends turn enemies
Crushes start crashing
When the law chases
Ghosts of the past can turn clothes into ropes
Shadows into canes
An extended hand into a bat
A tree into a cudgel
Little sounds into guns
Reaching for guilty hearts
When the law chases
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 23/05/2018
As existence of breezes
Is seen in the dance of a tree
I wish you dance in my hair or body
For all to see
You hidden monsters in my arteries!
You surely make me a walking corpse
In a walking stalk
Not that you care
Haven’t I looked for plasters to you seal?
If only sentimentalism could be counted in drops in drunken bottles!
If only pain can be counted in drops of tears!
If only hurts can walk rightly through complaints and bitterness!
If only clouds on my sky could be seen
In the realm of my melancholy!
If only these storms in my heart
Could tear its mask of internalism!
If only the carvings of life’s painful times
Could decorate this skin for a visible exhibition!
If only faking smiles could turn over
The tides of slippery shame in these veins!
If only abusing work would poison these internal typhoons!!!
I might look the part of life’s rightful garbage
But here I stand
A fly looking like a bee
An ant fighting elephants in this deceitful grass called earth
Here I am
Life’s taunt in my haunted self
A soul cursing out body sealed with talents
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 18, 2018
Pain is looking at a difference, in molestation, afar
Devastation is seeing your reflection in the bins of others
Sadness is seeing minds trapped by slavery
And tracing their roots to yours
Bitterness is knowing it all with a helplessness
That imprisons your confidence
Brewing unshed tears in the sky of your heart
When chains arrested muscles of mine
And dragged them like subdued monsters
Through their own virgin fields
On paths made by their own,
Shadows of my mother’s mother had no place in matter
Yet here I stand
Eyes in these tiny windows in this space
Viewing the harvest of brutality
Planted centuries back
Who would have thought trapped games could break free
Plant roots to grow stems thicker than their hunters
To a point of jealousy,
Fear of overthrow
To carve acts of rebellion
And plans of erasing bonds carved by decomposed souls?
It breaks this heart to see the colour of her clothes
Smeared in violence
In submission to naughts
With the few on shelves mostly bleached to blend
Or made door mats to silence
While their lost roots lie in riches untapped
Wallowing through seas of poverty
Leaving bright thoughts in melancholy
Watching through windows of mock indifference
Oh! The irony of odds!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 16, 2018
The starting point of every race
The rising point of the sun
Just as palm trees have no useless parts
Mothers, even in graves, shelter our souls
In spiritual protection
Who is without a mother’s is
Or, in sad terms, a mother’s was?
Like hens, they struggle to hatch
Like eagles, they are vigilant in protection
Like horses, they are ever ready to serve
Like donkeys, they seek to carry burdens of their seeds
Even if their backs break
Even chameleons can’t change their colours
As mothers do to protect their young
So who can deflate the air in a mother’s happy baloon?
Beings who humanity owe by default!
Humans without whom humans are naught!
Bridges of life and death!
The gentle balm on sores of childhood!
The unfailing mattresses of falls of teen-aging!
The great masseuse on pains of adulthood!
The comforting chests in fears of death!
Who can light his roof
And stand aloof without a struggle?
Goddesses of this globe!
Beautiful hearts in brave but slender enclaves!!
Beings who share everything, including heartbeats!!!
The best pots on fires of life!!!
We hail your existence!!!
Celebrate your creation!!!
Pamper your sore feet which never tire in running for our sake!!!
If love were rivers
We would gift you seas in your worship
May Odomankomah keep you
Even as you wish for the best for yours
On your day of felicitations and thanksgiving
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 13, 2018
Photo Credit: Google Pics
If structures could turn see-throughs
In these cold powered days
Many would find what stands true
In this raining May
Would be fun to watch
As lightening hugs get sticky
With eyes magnetizing eyes
Lips calling in other lips
Veins in arms sending hands on exploratory hunt
For pleasures abominable
In leisures of weathers so culpable
Lands get lost thinking love in digging
Only to wake to catches in feelings of rigging
Catches with spoons and plates
On future tables unplanned
How does it do it?
The electrifying touches which clean consciousness?
Oh cold! You’re so bold!
How does your old trick always get sold
Leaving lasses in prisons of responsibilities?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 11/05/2018
Now the day is awake
The sky is serving light
All that hands will take
Will base on a heart so bright
I hope that for life’s sake
We work with all our might
Like bread in an oven bake
Our ends will shine so bright
We have to burdens shake
And face our fearsome fright
And dodge all that is fake
To climb all best’s height
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 6, 2018
After three years of entertaining, thrilling and educating patrons in Accra, Ghana’s biggest most spectacular theatre production, Wogbɛ Jɛkɛ: Our Journey, comes to Tamale. With an amazing team of 100 cast and crew, this is a once in a lifetime experience you and your family and friends shouldn’t miss.
Come and witness the history of Ghana, from Naa Gbewaa to Nana Addo, unravel before you in the most breathtaking performance of drama, music, dance, poetry and even some comedy.
Happening on Saturday 5th and Sunday 6th May at the new Auditorium of the UDS International Conference Center.
Time is 8pm Only For Saturday Show. There will be two Shows on Sunday at 3pm and 8pm.
Rate: 50ghc VIP, 30ghc Regular and 20ghc for students ( call 0245238248)
WogbeJeke is created by Chief Moomen, Proudly Sponsored by Key Soap- the best tradition goes on. Also supported by the Zylofon Arts Fund and The Ghana Culture Forum.
In the heat and cold
To the tired and bold
Who worked and sold
And love to hold
All seams of works to mould
Our precious mother earth to fold
Closure, just in aim for gold
When cock’s call at dawn
I give you a standing ovation to say “ayekooo!”
From holders to tenders of pens,
Drummers to farmers in dens
Makers to tenders like hens
Advocates to runners in turns
All hearts which never cower to bends
With legs which suffer the burns
Yes, bows and arrows which target the earns
Clashers to sorters and enemies turned friends
Oh all hands, in earth management, like hens
I give you a standing ovation to say “Ayekoo!”
I pray for balm for your callouses
Rest for your tiredness
And for your efforts, crowns of successes
For you are the real athletes
Running to keep hearts beating
You are the real geniuses, making to keep blood running
You are the real planters, working to keep hunger caged
You surely are the real shapers, teaching to keep minds thinking
Oh real drummers, working to keep souls dancing
You real carvers, fixing to keep mouths laughing
Real preachers, teaching to keep feet on right paths
You whose batons continue in this race called life
I give you a standing ovation, to say Ayekoo!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © May 1, 2018