Amankwah Abrokoto was a fine man
Whose man thing knew every pleasure hole
…under all skirts in Djokoto Province
He earned this bragging rights before turning thirty
And made it a point to be the lifelong champion
…of the waist game in the whole of Djokoto
II
Every woman in Djokoto knew he wields a long gun
And his shots garnered shouting
…heard on the Mount of Atewotɛ
…hidden far off West from the Eastern Province of Djokoto
Men revered and hated Amankwah Abrokoto
Every woman in his bracket had a broken heart
…and a story to go with it
So women formed cliques to discuss their time
…with him in their leisure
III
At forty five,
Amankwah Brokoto had seventeen children
…and no wife
He boasted of living his best life
As girls his children’s age chased after him
…and sang the chorus of his beautiful bedding
Until Abena Gyinayie relocated to Djokoto
…as a single and self aware woman
…whose beads sang to the jealousy and awe
…of women and men respectively
IV
Amankwah Djokoto waited for months
For Abena Gyinayie to knock on his pleasure door
…to no avail
So he started wooing her
…something which was new to the people of Djokoto
Fetching more eyes from far and near
…to act spectators of the unfolding drama
V
Abena Gyinayie repeatedly told Amankwah Abrokoto
…that his ribs were too old to dig into her hips
Because she loved her flips
…and strong grips in her under lips
This angered and fed the lion in him
So he vowed to show her pepper
…when she finally opened her pleasure gate
VI
Tired of telling him the same thing over and over again
Abena Gyinayie gave Amankwah Abrokoto a date and time
…for bedpetition
Amankwah Abrokoto drank nnubena and “ayɔkono”
He added exercises he hated
…just to stay fit for the match
All in hope of silencing Abena Gyinayie
…to maintain his title
VII
On that very day
He started like a pickaxe
…and shoveled like a jackass
Haven closed his ears to reasoning
He forgot to check the status of his “prey”
And went on and on and on
Abena Gyinayie enjoyed her torture
And the promise of a full night
She stood and turned
Knelt and flipped
Her sides were not left out
Until the body working her out tired
Even as its soldier stood attentive
VIII
She took charge of the panting body
Riding him like a bull
…as his eyes rolled
He wanted to beg for mercy
…but his voice was a mere whisper without words
…whispers even the beads of Abena Gyinayie overpowered
Meanwhile eyes and ears were all around the room
Waiting to congratulate the winner
…and shame the whiner
IX
Abena Gyinayie
…tired of riding without as much as a hand cradling her back
Decided to chastise her master turned servant
Only to be met by an almost breathless body
She took her half cloth and tied it around her chest
And called loudly for all around to come help Amankwah Abrokoto
X
It didn’t take long for help to come
It sure did take long to revive him
…and longer for him to regain some strength
…due to paralysis from his waist down
Doctors told him how lucky he was to be alive
But he still preferred death to his state
Knowing the tongues of Djokoto and his shame awaiting
XI
His fears followed him to the hospital
As songs of his heroic deeds hosted a failed climax
Shaming him to a fault
…and hailing Abena Gyinayie as the David of the long standing Goliath
That ended the tale
…of the man who shot his own feet
Thinking it a glory bird to be added to his naughty exploits
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 10, 2020
8 replies on “SELF SHOOTING”
Wooooww!!
Mum Cee, you never cease to amaze me. This is, without mincing words, an intriguing narrative poem. I enjoyed every bit of it.
Kudos!
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Inspiration. Nicely carved.
Though I must say, when I am short of ideas for my project, I read you and I never get energized with whatever was lucking. I never get disappointed. Im truly inspired.
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brutal! you must have a good inspiration for the story!
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I did. A man died and was buried on Thursday due to his cassava ways. Died in a motel after his usual escapades. Afrodisiacs are killing men of nowadays, it is sad.
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Sad.
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Very.
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Are they taking to many?
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I think so.
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