​WHEN A YARD IS GIVEN

When a yard is given

Extending to a mile is a given

Then some come in needful farm

Regardless of the harm
II

When a gate widely opens

Even mosquitoes can turn royals

Dictating to owners when to sleep and what to keep

Of course the malaria virus becomes a necessary tag 
III

Draw a needle for your poor pest

And it will turn into an axe

Give a knife to your foe

And it will metamorphose into a machete

Make tears quench the thirst of a dying in drought

And he will be sure to drive on your pain 

For your eyes to always rain
IV

We have given more than necessary 

Now we forget the owners we are

In our love to serve

In the end

We are dancing clowns

On a stage set by blood so precious 

Blood of our ancestors 

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 24, 2017

IF YOU MARRY ME

If you marry me

You will be my sea

And I your fish

Preparing for you many a sumptuous dish

Giving life to many of your wishes


II

If you marry me

Your happiness, my wish will be

I will be your warmth in the cold

And your cooler in heat’s fold

Blanketing you from troubles which weather the skies of love


III

If you marry me 

My love will be your fee

You as the only he in all my she

In all I own, you’ll own the key


IV

If you marry me

Your returnings will be your fantasy 

As all that is royalty you will see

Chaos and pain will be our enemies’ fallacy

And our bed’s chronicles will rival the Songs of Solomon


IV

If you marry me

You’ll be my friend

And my healthy loving fiend

Wearing your love like a uniform for all to see

Even in a university of marriage institution 

Where diverse clothing are in store


V

If you marry me

I will complement you

Looking up to you even when  I stand taller

For you will be me and I you

As the buttocks of a legless man lick its very grounds


VI

No night will enjoy our separation in full

Our souls will be like Siamese twins

Stuck together by God’s perfected glue

No eye of a day will witness our fallouts

No ear of man will hear our differences 

No eye will see our cracks

For God will be our adjudicator

If you marry me


VI

I won’t need you but want you

I won’t hurt you but protect you

I won’t embarrass you

As that will dress me in a veil of shame

I know you will love me

And I you will reciprocate with more

I will be your cocoon

When you need a shed

And your stage when you need a page


VII

If you marry me

If only you marry me

I will make you see

That world where two should be

Being your fan even when all hate hail

As we on the stormy seas of this life sail

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 2017

​AS MY YEARS TRAVEL

(In celebration and reflection on my birthday) 

As my years travel the world

Questions act like soldier ants

Who have chanced upon a loot

In a land of famine


II

The biggest captain being achievements

Co-captained by failures

All curious as to the shrouded steps left

To the hungry hole of endings

III

The frightful words of holy books

Stand with their fiery canes ready as hell’s cooks

Who can beat the holiest trait which act rag before the ultimate judge? 

Definitely not a lightweight like me without gloves 

In Satan’s boxing ring

IV

Many experiences still hide deep 

As untapped minerals hidden in unexplored realms

Many delicacies hang on trees of cook books

Taunting this tongue whose hands are still short

Enough to reach 

Will it ever reach its mark

Before the body mates ice

At the cue of the mysterious one

Who shares the “odomankoma” title with God himself? 

V

What about toes which have scars 

Traced to my high heels? 

Those the sun of my day helped me visualize

And those fearfully hidden by my cruel shadows? 

How many surprises will jump to my slap

When I stand in the judgement box of oblivion?

VI

The celebration is icing on a rotting cake

Every day punching muscles into weakness 

Every month deepening circles around failing sights

Every year sipping colour from battling hairs

Will dancing fill the blanks of this truths? 

VII

As my years travel

Humility mask gratefulness

Which in turn mask sadness

In a heart which thinks realities

In a typhoon where fruits dance together with hidden stones

On mysterious trees 

Which unfairly set the run of blindfold

In their enjoyment of soul hunting

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 21st June,  2017.

​HELPERS LIKE EVE

Those days
When light only came from the sun rays

As fruits fed from their ripe stations

Have no living nations

II

Those days

When charms and pushing gays

With domestic care so rare

Were all a woman needed to be fair

Have gone under

As today, more need surrender


III

Eve was a blessing

Who hated her no dressing

We are interesting 

Even in our no resting

Our morn calls for care duties

Then the hunt to help

Noon calls for roaming 

Then the pain of thoughts

Evening calls for supper 

And preparations for a near future

Of course night has its unseen duties

Of marathons of turnings and pantings


IV

We are now like Frankenstein 

We have created a monster of freedom

Which has taken over our little rest

Making us workaholics with no visible acknowledgement

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)  June 19, 2017.

AGYANOM

Happy Father’s Day to all fathers. Enjoy this piece:

Whoever said chicks follow hens

Wash your faces with treated water

And watch

It is that day

That day when some cocks act hens

As some hens model in cockdom 

This world!
II

It is this day

This day when the pains of motherhood

Root firmly in the sheltered sacks of fatherhood

This world
III

Not many hit to run

Not many seek the fun

Not many impose a ban

But many do as they can

Fathers
IV

So bring those flowers 

And shelve the towels

Build those houses 

And leave those sandals

Discard all bitterness 

And hail this plantation which blooms

Into a garden of fathering care

Exuding fragrance of love

In its rightful place 

Formerly loaded on tired femi-heads

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 18, 2017.

IN HONOUR OF MAJOR MAHAMA

Image result for pictures of major mahama maxwell

We cry your liquidated soul

Which has been forcefully fried

From your solidly mobile form

We hail your gallant nurture

Which prevented your strong nature

To harm a hair of your enemies, oh you with good stature!

We pray for your hovering soul

Which stands on the invisible soles

Of all that you hold dear

We pray for your fruitful walk into eternal rest

Even as your wronged soul

Deserves a fair revenge

The law stands and haunts

The law whips and taunts

The law whose neglect saw to your fall

Calls and stalks to fetch and prosecute culprits

You are a warrior of heroism

Caught in a silly sport of cruel tragedy

Death bemoans your shining presence

Just as your wife feels the absence of your presence

And your children’s growth miss their oblivious presence

We pray for your forgiveness

For cutting a tree which yearned

To stretch in the sky way above the ground

Depriving its roots from its warm and cool shade

Walk like the soldier you are

Model like the gentleman you are

Take strides knowing we have fantasized your future

The future you envisaged

Your Major dreams have been achieved

Major Mahama Due ooo!

Damirifa Due!

Major Mahama! Damirifa Due!

Due Due ne Amanehunu!\

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) June 9, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

GIVEN TO TEACH

Image result for pictures of major mahama maxwell

The code of souls was breached

When I saw the gates of death

Being torn by many who morality preached

When their swords of advice wore their breath

In hidden and opened quarters of their sons

As they pushed me through by cruel runs

II

I felt the lighting slaps of hands

And bore the gruesome breaks of stones

I felt the painful hits of sticks

And the bruising peels of blocks

I felt the fleeing pins of dust

None showed a friendly sight

But I stood and was blinded by the pain of loss

Which mine would feel at the sight of my last days

III

I prayed the chaos would rise to slap

And not form a cane or a death slab

I prayed to be the end of the crap Continue reading “GIVEN TO TEACH”

PITY OUR LAND

Image result for images of beautiful ghana

Pity our land

A land arrested and tamed

Into a free wild horse on its very habitat

Sat on and dragged with so many heavy things

Fed crumbs from our own pots

Oh cry! Cry for our land!

II

Pity our land

A land with so much yet thinks so little

And was confined by the mere sight of a gun

A land which fought their greatest enemy’s soldiers

Into a slight wake

A wake that stuck at freedom of body

And not of mind

Oh pity! Slap this land into Wakefulness!

III

Pity our land

Cry for this land of loam

Whose knees love the taste of sea sands

Oh Pity! Pity this land!

A land whose thoughts love to steal from itself

Digging its seeds before they germinate

Soiling its rivers before they join their seas

Oh pity! Pity our land!

IV

Pity our land

Pity our land so full yet so empty

A land so beautiful but stuffed with self-hatred

A land so wealthy with brainwashing of poverty

A land ridden by shadows

Shadows which blend with our darkness

Darkness with no distinction

Oh pity! Pity our land

V

Pity our land

The land which knows no greatness unless its sunset

And knows no morning unless neighboring cock crows are heard

No matter how hard theirs drum in crowing

A land whose day lovers suck its blood at night

And pretend to water and till in the day

A land bedeviled by its own thoughts

Haunted by fake nightmares

And flogged by manipulations

Oh pity! Pity my land!

VI

Pity our land

 Pity the land bleaching away its melanin

In hopes of seeing protected blood

Thinking vulnerability is ability

When its suns spew wrinkles and wilting

Pity o pity!

The land which lives in begging dreams

Begging which begs for its own destruction!

A land of scribes filled with filth 

Pity! Oh pity my land!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 7th June 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics

CONTRASTING INEQUALITY

When salt sellers hear of rain
On open market days
They flip and trip and slip to pray
But a farmer waiting to farm gives praises to his maker

II
We are in a world where same buildings welcome infant cries
And send off living souls
A reflection of virtues and vices
Staring eachother in the faces
Celebrations and mourning
Laughter and tears
Boldness and fears
Successes staring straight at defeats
Unthinkables walking in the world of brains

III
Same position can be celebrated or forfeited in bitterness
The latter from promotion
The former from demotion
It is a world where lizards envy butterflies
Knowing how fragile they are
And eagles envy fowls for their easy lives
Knowing they are occasional delicacies

IV
Isn’t it problematic
When the sun envies the moon
For its gentility knowing it works harder
To battle darkness?
Isn’t it even more problematic when the moon covets the sun
Knowing it burns to settle
In an already clear day?
It is a world filled with contrasts
Each leg wishing to be in another’s ground
Knowing not the thorns, fires, broken bottles
The other painstakingly hides
We are beings fighting their shadows
In this contrasting realm
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 26, March, 2017.

ANWENSEM

(To honour World Poetry Day)
As the day spells your mention
And the rays promise your distinction
I bow to the holy minds
Which brought you to bind
With passionate souls
To massage our tired soles
From weariness of spirit
Giving us breathing chits

II
You are in countless forms
Giving us ready picks
To mix and carve
As carvers cut, shape and build their art
You have all the sides
The good
The bad
The loving
The sad
The intriguing
The disgusting
Is there any unknown in your known?

III
You give chances of choices
For words to hoard voices
Voices channelled in riddles which fiddle
Wise minds to giggle
Or tickle sad souls to wriggle out of depression

IV
Our heads have lighted our eyes
And curved upright our mouths
Thanks to your gift of blending
Your existence and our insistence
On not resisting your assistance
And making you the fountain worth watching
And the gutters worth sympathising
Is worth aromatically-arousing-praise

V
Our eyes have been clouded and rained
Rivering into seas of memories
With their sharks, mermaids,  and all their inhibitors
Serving as the routes for our boats of aging
Bringing us to regrets and or gratefulness

VI
You are as old as age
As cool as fantasies
As protective as knights untouchable
You are the mortal remains of our immortality
Lover of the lonely!
Friend of beaten!
Warmth of the cold!
Cool breezes of the heated!
Punisher of evil!
Stooge of all good workers!
Light for the blind!
Rain for the thirsty!
Food for the hungry!
Although you can be abused in our confused state
You do all
Anwensem!
You deserve all
All our felicitations in your celebrations
P-O-E-T-R-Y
Poetry!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 22nd March, 2017

FUNREHOTRICS

When songs of nightingales
Hit blocked drums of infatuated cocks
They cry loss but look hardest
Cursing the hearing maker

II
When the ‘borla’ bird
Dreams of cuddling a peacock
It shivers at peck-like-axing
One that can give away its intestines
In a split second

III
Every struggling soul
Like a beheaded fowl
Kicks and fights to retain breath
Funny how something unseen but everywhere
Serves to suffocate then strangle
Anywhere, everywhere
With tickets on every head
Causing fear and panic

IV
Many run from their bonded shadows
Loving the dark which swallow the shadows up
Hating sunshine which shows them
Exactly where to spot them

V
There will always be elephants struggling to be ants
And there will always be ants praying to be elephants
There will always be eagles praying to be guinea fowls
And vice versa
If truth could lead us
Life would be spent before being bought
And regret could be shelved till our dusts settle
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) March 16, 2017

INHERITINGS: SINS OF THE FATHERS

When sadness sits like a chief
Brewing the pungent and ugly grief
Siding with all words but brief
Stealing a heart like a shameless thief
Why do you say fate’s ladle is deep?

II
When this chick chirps as a bird
And its mother finds it absurd
As its rival families root for it as dead
And peers and strangers hate to it heard
Why do you say fate’s ladle stir deep?

III
Each is born
Each would be gone
Each, in time, finds its own corn
Each harbour its scorn
Each knows not its last dawn
So why will a menace blow its horn
Onto a new generational lawn?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 11th March, 2017

FARMERS

We are farmers
Farming our kind
Tilling our lands to plant
Selecting best and compatible seeds for plantation
And when the earth houses the seeds
We water, provide sunshine and air

II
We may give too much water
When the young shoots emerge
We may give too much sun
We may even provide winds instead of air
But that is our need calling to feed
And harvest the best

III
There are occasions rare
When pleasure birds nurse our land
And make us hate to touch a strand
Leaving young plants in thorns
That is the balance of fairness
Or seeds of lack of it thereof
But we are farmers nonetheless
Farming to give the future
The food of humanity
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) March 6, 2017

WOMEN OF THE WORLD

Women
The glorious beings of this worldly den
The best hearts likened to hens
The most gifted of all of life’s pens

II
Women are the flowers so bright
They blossom for all but their thorns do fight
Against pests in hurried flight
Great agents who fear no problem of height

III
Women are wondrous plants
They can grow even on slants
And can take many rants
Their wisdom is like the biblical ants’

IV
Women do honour
As soldiers wear their saving armour
We are the best of earthly banners
And do shine no matter how small our corners

V
Women are magicians
Carrying natural homes and are great tacticians
They glow even in blows but are still beauticians
In this dog eat dog realm, they’re the best politicians

VI
Women are the waters of life
Just a sip and their love erases strife
Step hard on their hearts and they turn to knives
Give them wounds and your home will turn into a beehive

VII
Women are the air so fair
Block their souls and their winds will stir
Confine their will and their ills will stare
Slap their pride and their tsunamis will clear

VIII
Women
Fearfully and wonderfully built
Miraculously carved
With beautiful weaves
Sparks of passions
Fires of loving
Wired with diversity of love
There is a long tale of famishing
On a soul which has tasted not
The love of a women
Rage and rant but your knees know their owners
Women
The best works of the heavens
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 8th March, 2017.

MELANCHOLY IN PATRIOTIC ALCOHOLISM

We live in the sought after gold
Clothed by a land fertile enough to banish the barren
We live on a land so expensive
Blood so precious protect
Only to make us free
We live on a land so wondrous
Black star lights to guide us through
When did a blessed turn cursed?
We are the chosen on the best ship
Whose captains never fail in their traitorhoods
But hope leads our choir

II
Let’s shed the sea analogy
And work with land
Shepherds have led
And shepherds are still leading
Yet hyenas and foxes
Break our boxes
Causing us losses
Many claim our shepherds have claws like our monsters
Making heavy our crosses
As age adds to our aging
And eyes afar look back in mock horror
Why do we make cats guide our abattoir?

III
We are the richest but the poorest
The strongest but the weakest
The bosses turned crosses
We grovel when we hold the power to give
Now our white hairs put us in the boxes of self questioning

IV
Six decades
Many horicades
But our strong nation stands like a great mountain
Six decades with many scandycades
Yet we sing hospitality and cast out animosity
Six decades and many barrings
Yet we rise through every fall
We are the wondrous team
Great
House
Amazing nests
Nurturing feats
A royal team
Who can beat the expensive beads
Which talk with a lot to stock?
We will get to the dock of satisfaction one day
And our mockers will give us a standing ovation
For we are who we are
The wealthy struggling to breach the gap
That robbers left on our shores
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) March 6, 2017

I AM A CITIZEN

I am a citizen
A citizen paid by citizens
I am like a chicken
Fed grains to reproduce grains
I am a hunter and the game
My effort contributing to my gain
So why should I rest in labour?
Will a sheep pray for the blindness of its shepherd?

II
I am a citizen
A citizen born by a citizen
A citizen whose past or fellow citizens might have been butchered like sheep
Right before her eyes
In sacrifice to the land which gives me the citizen tag
So why should I feel like a rag?

III
I am a citizen
A citizen whose ancestral citizens
Were aided and helped by powers of smaller gods
Gods who solicited rains and protected its water banks
Gods who punished to teach
And warned to reach
So why should I feel like a leech?

IV
I am a citizen
A citizen made complete by my other citizens
Their contributions to society
Through hardwork and mischief
Their conflicts of interest and disinterest
Through legal and foul means
Their laughable and serious jokes
Blasting through air and rumoured waves
So why won’t I my place save?

V
I am a citizen
A citizen paid by citizens
A citizen neighbored and loved by citizens
A citizen blanketed by the protection of the city
I need no pity
This city is mine
Mine to wine and dine and in it whine
But no matter the ills we face
Ships fight waves and are pushed to their destinations by some waves
Why will I name my city a cave

V (b)
I am a citizen
A citizen by all standards
A citizen born by a city
A citizen nurtured by a citizen
A citizen made whole by my citizenship
I am glad I am a citizen
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 5th March, 2017

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

WHERE AMERICA BLEEDS

A step forward
Ten steps lost
What time has been slow to wash
Now sit in filth
Filth worse than it had seen
Being fanned by flies
Oh knives of division cuts through humanity
And like a melting cake
It gives way to wailing wishes
Guarded by suppressing bombs

II
Tales are told upon tales
Tails of humanity now fan flames of hatred
Crowns meant for smiles
Now sit to cut deep into flesh
Sucking blood of hosts
Turning vampires to scatter bodies

II(b)
My ma told me teeth know better
To bite into fingers which feed
Troubling Rivers
Usurping Mercy
Pinching peace
Ah!

III
Fingers will now point at eachother
Asking in rhetoric whose fault fled here the misfortune train
Who mistook the metallic bird for a flexible eagle?
Who killed sanity and woke insanity?
Who mandated the hand that draws these lines?
Lines of unfairness
Lines calling for blood
Lines of games refereed by death!
It must be the yearning of few
Few shadows multiplied by rays of light
Aided by darkness to confuse soldiering eyes
Still the waves sleep
Leaving the ship to sit in dancing
As its travelers pray for winds
To blow it to the quarter of change
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 30, 2017

SINKING LOW

We have crossed the river
The river which made us shiver
Keeping us on safe ground
All around

II
We have bossed
We have bossed the bosses who consciences checked
Regarding none that crossed
Now chaos,  like clouds, wreck into worst wreckedness

III
Cockroaches now fly in daylight like birds
Flies now rule like eagles
Even dogs look like chameleons
So unreadable
Where are the birds and eagles?
How did doves get replaced by vultures?
Decorum sinks lower in dark circles
Branding us blind
Leaving us behind
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January, 2017

BE MY SHIELD

As many, their cutlasses wield
Like monsters on a game field
Please Lord, don’t let my spirit yield
Be my capable shield

II
I know I am not fast
My legs, in run, will not in this race last
Not with enemy soldiers at vantage points on a land so vast
Help me see this as past

III
As death waits to buy
Me in an auction for me to die
Lord, don’t just sigh
No matter how many rules, I, in sin, fry

IV
I am on this hard way
Whatever I needingly say
May not throw a ray
But do look at my heart, and clear my day
I sure will in dedication pay
In praise worthy, as I in your good light stay
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 24, 2017

RULING WEATHER

The sky sees many monarchs
Those whose sadness floods the earth
Giving life to most and taking some
Those whose happiness burns the earth
Warming most, drying fractions and killing some
Those whose air barber trees
Burning weeds
And aiding and abetting fires
The sky really sees many monarchs

II
Amazing how all weathers have their favourites
Honouring some
Demoting some
And killing some
Life’s changes favour all
But under the right weather
Being carted by time
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 22, 2017

WHEN TROUBLES CALL

Mouths of challenges smile mischievously
Even when their hurricanes dance
With beasts of chaos
Brother of mine
Walk through its fires
And be its king

II
Words which walk through the taunting mouths if troubles
Can scatter brains as the mad scatters in insanity
Brave hearts allow the noise
Knowing blessed breezes are on the way to calm
Heart of a being
Beat to their rhythms until they fall to follow your tune as subjects

III
There is no virgin pain
Years have pushed beings into them
And have made all that hurt hearts prostitutes
Like leaves on a tree
Some endure as some fall
Sister of mine,  wake from the torture

IV
As you cry in your sighs
Some are paralyzed by pain
But will work to walk through
Or die trying
The world treats us like fowls
Be skillful in dodging
Or fall into saucepans of delicacies
Enjoyed by tongues of mortal enemies
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 19, 2017

THE CROSS OF LOSS

Shame is the first act which chases
As the heart, in pain races
Soldier words in mouths take bases
Dead flowers of horrid laughter in ridicule vases
Such is the cross of loss
Turning a crown into a horse
With a foe as its boss

III
A crowd gives worship of pain
Darkness tries to make you sane
Thought of taunts, like a fearful boss, in hiding chain
A dying wish for a fleeing train
Such is the cross of loss
Turning a crown into a clown
Performing on knees at the toe of a foe

III
Heavy as it may be
Only sages at the far end see
Fools and those without its taste climb many a history tree
To make all visible even as time sets you free
Such is the cross of loss
Every wing given digs up its memories
A bold flight buries the thoughts
And makes strong hearts out of its lot
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 16, 2017.

WHAT BEAUTIFIES THE TONGUE

There are many dialects tongues drive
In this realm called earth
Their beauty; to lie on their own fields
Being dribbled like a ball with Abedi on a smooth park
Time is confusing tongues
Mixing strange ones with the authentic
Soiling what once was pure and untainted
“Mere di Sandwich”
You will hear the Fanti chirp
“Boy a eva loo”
You will hear the Ewe sing
“Is it ready?  Binderigu?”
You will hear the Dagomba ask
“Ya ne oya heat niyenii ne woye”
The Ga says in enthusiasm
All virginities of languages broken cruelly into by civilization

II
There certainly was a reason each was given a communication code
Why then do eagles bark
As dogs chirp?
Why do cats crow as cocks meow?
Why do horses roar as lions neigh?
Every sound stands naked on stages of all
How can privacy sit on thrones of meditation?

III
I will drive my Akan like a skilled Kwahu hand
Around an almost perfect fufu in a mortar
Whether in tattered ruin or in normal stance
There are no gears for backwardness
A drive forward is all the world needs
Until sanity wakes us
Or madness takes us to the land where all tongues meet in a common dialect
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 15, 2017

WORSHIP AN IDOL

I am that I am
And all that I will ever be
The servant murdered into birth in seconds
Feeder of the body in locomotive spheres
Contributor to every living’s well being
I have my gentle side
My exploring side
And my fearful side
No farmer farms into famine
So I whirl in play and mature into taking when I need
Some of your forefathers’ forefathers’ knees
Tasted my feet in glory
Some laid their bodies as vessels of worship
For my pleasure in thanksgiving
My duties have changed in multiplicity
Why have yours?
Worship me!
Worship an idol
A member of the working four
Your servant and lord Air

II
I am that I am
And all that I will ever be
I serve in the worst places
Yet pass through tubes to cool all
I have tasted the eyeballs of the sky
Through continuous travels back and forth
I have many sources and many children flowing in and out my jurisdiction
I host most with delicacies mouths quiver for in need
My gathered stomach is combed
My pate so roamed
My beings are mostly poisoned in hunt for my citizens
The irony is that, any harm caused me multiplies in harm to your species
There were years my duties were not as voluminous as today
But I was treated as the god I am
Many giving their own names, altars and days
To pray for my potability and safe travels
I do more
Even shipping your unneeded debris from your homes to your backyards
Why then can’t you worship me?
You must have tasted my power in taking when my anger descends
Tasted my anger when my ways are blocked
What more do you need to see to worship?
Worship me
An idol
One who regulates your temperature and keeps you strong
Worship me, one of the working four you cannot do without
A help and a god by right
Water

III
I am that I am
And all that I will ever be
I rise like a knight with all armours to conquer darkness
To help you see and work all through
Contributing to growth to help you feed
My absence will cost you so much
Through my muse, fire was born
And now your prized electricity which powers all your addictions
The sky is my living place
Every great master surely exhibits great traits in servitude
And you all know I serve right
You sure fear my wrath as elephants fear fire
Even the worshiped waters fear my high presence
For I am one to dry to benefit, and or harm
Don’t you fear me?
Some of your ancestry worshiped and built me temples
Now you shrink in thoughts of my godship
And pray against my spiritual existence?
Worship what regulates your life!
Worship an idol!
Worship me!
The Mighty Sun!

IV
I am that I am
And all that I will ever be
I am the carrier of all that you need and you
The most abused servant
Contaminated, dug into, blasted
And still expected to produce to feed you all
Without me you have no where to go
Your foremothers’ foremothers built me holy grounds of worship
But you curse even at my few followers?
Be grateful and worship an idol
Considering all you take
Remember I am your resting place
You will be me in time after your pompous state
Worship
Worship one of the working four
Instead of your fellow mortal tricksters
We deserve it all
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 15, 2017

BECAUSE OF LOVE

I have a heart
Whose magnetic eyes see it all
From the sighs to wishes from afar
Right up to fantasies I can never fulfill
But I stay rooted
Because of love

II
I have a mind which murders all
And bisect to disect every detail
From my traditional thoughts
To my bold stance
And how you wish them gone
But who will I be without them?
I know someone even I won’t recognize
Your voice tells it all
But you stay because of love

III
I live in words
And you live in rocks, loving wood
When I love the worship of living trees and air
Loving the space where I freeze our beautiful memories
In words none can erase
I know how hard it is for us
But we stay rooted because of love

IV
I know I love showing my back
You love turning me right back
Slapping me with reasons
Urging me with facts
Raining amidst thunders of truth
You do all
I know it is because of love

V
What will love give to two
After strapping them like goats on its pole?
A question which hangs on our crowns of security
But love me because of love
As I do
Just because of love
When love flees and frees
Let’s then look back at its prison in apt emulation
All for nothing but love
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 14, 2017

CLOSED EYES

Closed eyes see best
But suffer mistrust and fear
Closed eyes feel best
But no matter its painful tear
It matters not to the open rest

II
The elders say
Children can climb the tallest trees
And will never be able to see the needed
Wrinkled old men sit behind closed doors
With closed eyes
And see as far as far’s destination
Why do old ailing eyes have all the visions?

III
The world gets kinder after every torture
The world gets clearer after every tear
The world gets predictable after every stormy slap
The painful lot is knowing all the amswers in static and rotting mode

IV
Before every breakable breaks
It tastes the pain of pressure
Listen to the eyes
Listen to the closed eyes
Listen to the closed eyes who speak in wide travel
They know best what time hides
The same time which gives brides
And turn them into wrinkled chides
And gives grooms and turn them into worrying dooms
Listen
As they chirp in shrilled tones
Behind sticky and policing eyelids
No matter their predictions
They are the mouths of experience
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 14, 2017

NOISE OVER NAUGHT

Wool travels through a tree
In a pod which explodes to throw it out
Lucky hands gather to refine
Piece upon a piece into many elegant things
Who is a bird to blame hands
When it feeds on fruits
Stays on trees and
Paint its surrounding with its rear vomiting?

II
A hole can be whole
But in a whole lies a hole
A being was born by a being from a being by a being with no end
Every being artificialised in production
The world is a take upon a take upon a take
Blood being a mixture upon a mixture upon a mixture
All authentic lost to time

III
Oh voices of fake originals!
Horses of self imposed superiors!
Look above and hope to fly
But look down too for the earth awaits
To churn all into food for roots
Roots which would feed your artificials and their artificials
None is a stone which fears no fire, water and air
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 9, 2017.

A QUESTION LIKE AN ANTHEM

There are rots
Cradling our cots
Killing our lot
Having us bought

II
There are filth
Even in quilts
Causing us to wilt
Amidst all spilt

III
What dies today?
Breaths are taken
The world is shaken
Most are awake
And can change bake
But what dies from our rots?
What dies from our filth?
What dies from our ills today
To feed fat our lean progress?
Which monster within do I aim to kill
To pay progress’ bill?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 9, 2017

IN THIS SEA

It is funny
Very funny how fishes muddy
Toy with
Waste
The water in which they live

II
They create their storms
And shake their grounds
They reject the right rains
And dig for tsunamis
They heat their waters
But stay therein
Is there a thought to point that out?

III
Oh big fishes!
Digging all sea dishes!
Drying up your waters!
Can’t you please mould a thought
For your little ones?
Your little ones who chase and are chased
Knowing nothing but growth in splatter and play
Knowing no difference between bearable and unbearable waters
Sea sands fan you now
But are waiting to choke you and or your descendants into death
When the last drop of water evaporates
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 8, 2017

THESE CROSSROADS

I was born with nothing
No fangs
No claws
To talk of clothes and rings and slings to cling
Look at me now
Looking at these crossroads

II
I was born like mixed flour
So light
Does the sun boil me like heat
Which fans the buttocks of pots
As air stirs my content to grow thick like banku?
What do I do with these crossroads?

III
I am like a thirsty owl
I hoot as nature wrote
But other living things call it witchcraft
My eyes; calling for bullets of brave spirits
When all I need, is not greed but nights to feed
What am I on these crossroads?

IV
I have to choose a side
Always
From the loins which pieced my halves
To the groups bonded by blood
To factions at each other’s throats
To beliefs!
Beliefs thought, fantasized, felt into believing
Geographical roars unmentioned
How many breakages does my heart need to have
On these crossroads?

V
Every moment is a choice
Every thought holds a voice
Every step makes its noise
Who am I?
Who at all am I?
What added soil to a soul in blended stones and claws?
Who mixed need and greed to feed on our breed?
Who am I?
Who are you?
Who are we?
Are we worth this struggle?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 8, 2017

A NEW SUN (CRAZY STANZAS)

Image result for pictures of akufo addo

Dawn is clearing the path of the new sun
After filling the hole of the old
Its tears are of hope and despair
Could the new be a replica of the old?

II
The old sun died with time
The earth pulling on it the cover of darkness
Pushing it to set prematurely
Aided by some clouds who cushioned it
What are palms concealing in a fist
Concerning the future of the new?

III
Dust say the old sun insulted it
Calling it mud even in its dryness
Heating when rain arrested it
Helping not after its stir into mud
So helped to pull on it doomed curtains

IV
Water says the old sun stole its coolness
Turning it into floating air with no known space
The little left of her becoming homes for insects
As its citizens were haunted and hunted to feed monsters
Others murdered to sink into rot
All through, the old sun shone brightest
To give its enemies visibility

V
Some clouds claimed they were footmats
They lived in the sky but were threatened with pushes
What was their trouble to hobble while gobbling curses?
What was their crime to be treated less than silver lining?
So they too helped to pull down the curtains of the old sun

VI
There are expectations churned into over-jubilation
The new sun in its dawn is overwhelmed
Most of the earth stay by its side
Other worlds watch in anticipation
Looking for the duration when its popularity will fall
Looking for times when its light will soar
Looking for the time when all elements will gather to pour their displeasure
But for now, a new moon rises
And many hope for a vitamin D favour
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) January 7, 2017

(PHOTO CREDIT: GhanaPoliticsOnline)

BRIDE AND BURDENS

On egos ride
Sits pride which is cautioned to hide
Like two in one in a stride
The groom rides the bride
The bride feels dry even on the side

II
Cleaning to gleaning
A leg on a leg
Washing to cooking
Newspaper blessing eyes
Sweeping and weeping
Eyes glued on women’s butts parading on magic boxes
Running to work after doing dishes
Left to work after eating wishes
A woman in odd
Man in even

III
He dreams of those to rear
Her front suffers with her rear
He wishes for a pampering
His weight on her pain
What she gives out needs no praise
The little he dishes needs loud praise
Wronged, her tears dig trenches in her throat
Soldiering criticisms stand with bulging eyes
Making sure they do not walk through mouths
Let alone hit the road of knowledge
From a white veil
To the slave in work trade
What is the essence of this labour?
A woman is woe onto herself
A man’s body brush at best
Used to clear his dust and cob-webs
And his rag at worst
Used to clean mud, stepped on like a bug
Was Odomankoma bias in black feminine moulding?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan 4, 2017

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

For all that is fair
All that we share
All that life makes us bear
I hope for you strength to dare
Even when storms of life glare
Hoping for you speed of the hare
To go through and success pair
This New Year and beyond
Happy New Year to all followers of amoafowaa.com.
Thank you for your continuous support. Blessings.

TAKING OFF THESE CLOTHES

I cry for you
You whose time was set before birth
Shaped by fixed days
Rounded by a set of months

II
As your seconds tick into your minutes
I know your heart sinks
As you fall into the arms of history
But do take these
These flawed claws
Which have arrested our fingernails
And are causing such sores to our souls

III
Burn with the clothes of troubles
And help us walk into the clothes made
By your new born

IV
Maybe those clothes may have thrills
Which will fill our quill
To rewrite our scripts
Or make us porcupines to battle
To keep well our field

V
Vanish with your garnish of tarnishing
Die with your sighs and cries
Round up your lions and lionesses
Shredding pride and egos of the righteous
And burn together

VI
Clothes of shame
Headgears of corruption
Un-needed gloves of destruction
Crippling boots of greed
Burn with all to have us freed

VI
We did all to walk you safely to your grave
We have noted every second you did breathe
So burn with all that is unfair
And shine us clean to rise above our clouds
As suns do through the fall of dawn
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 31, 2016

REWIRING

They imagine Christmas in snow
When our feet greet the dust of harmattan
As morning cold bites into skin

II
They imagine a pot-bellied-red-apparelled-man-myth
With goodies for children
In this drop of cold and heat
Blackmailing children into submission for a short while
Preparing them for rebellion after years of disappointments

III
They imagine a tree with gifts
When the birthday boy was said to have been begotten
In a stable
Gold, myrrh and incense
Turning into expensive worldly material wishes
Failure, breaking bonds, families and friends

IV
They imagine kissing under a mistletoe
Did the young Canadian Bieber slap our thoughts
Through a simple song?
Or is it simply the blind holding the cane of a trickster?

V
Indeed Christ’s mask
Replace Christmas
Black men living in white delusions
Worshiping the gods of white living
Instead of words of faith
From the chimney to the snow
White Christmas charms most
You are idol worshippers
Your symbol: anything done by a human in white skin
You whose faith are cheperoned by movies and tales
And experiences of different cultures
You need rewiring
You incurable copycats
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 2016

KNOW THE HERODS

A story told millions of zillions of times
An occasion whose infectious smile
Blesses the lips of all celebrants
One baby cried for the jubilations of the heavens
And the knowing on earth years and years back
Still, Herod hated his herald of high hierarchy in heaven
Hunting him in his zone

II
A celebration of deaths amidst that of a supreme life
Boys upon boys upon boys
Had no pleasure of draining their milk
From breasts of their mothers
For Herod heard his honour
And hunted him like the only game in the worst famine

III
Whirlwinds carry dust
Who knows of a wicked little stone there?
Dancing in its circling is calling for blindness
Dancing far off is looking before leaping
Is that not the best way to learn?
Eyes which join fingers to fetch peppery food to mouth
End up changing their colour and size
Know the Herods who await all follies
And laugh to the happy cries of the newborn
Whose tidings tell tales of redemption
Know the Herods
Herod of deception
Herod of over-celebrations
Herod of fornication
Herod of adultery
Herod of stealing
Herod of over speeding
Herod of trickery
Herod of drunkenness
Herod of seduction
Herod of rape
Herod of disrespecting the holiness known
As the newborn sleeps in his manger of cradle
To honour the newborn called Christ
In your Christian attires
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 23, 2016

WHERE SHED BLOOD WEEPS

There are walls around a nation
A nation fought for with priceless blood
A nation whose beauty, like mud fish in muddy water,
Hides in walls too high in ugliness
Walls of corruption
Walls of deception
Walls of greed
Walls of power-drunkenness
Walls of ridiculous stunts
Walls of begging
Walls of tribalism
Walls of labeling
Culminating in walls of poverty pictures
Plastered from social media to foreign watch boxes
Yet many live in eyeless villages
With no ears
Not that they care
Living peacefully in walls of ignorance
Through a greater wall of illiteracy
Their pair of glasses too busy in high class comfortable cinemas

II
It is funny how birds cry for this nation
It is funny how the sky frowns through the sun
In the mirror of their eyes
It is funny how hills and rivers wait patiently for a climb
To show them the passions their sweats have bought
It is even funnier how the fields grow
Under the matchetes of hands uncountable
Few flowers weep for their land
While the weeds murder ones with loud cries
Four annual steps
Mostly turning into eight in laying more bricks on
Has been a painful fate
Who will break his feet by breaking these walls?
Who will break her fake nails
In breaking these walls?
I fear for the curses of tears from ghosts with closed eyes
Ghosts who lost their souls in the nation’s purchase
Time travels
And so does this nation
My nation
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 21, 2016

WORDS

Image result for pictures of mouths speaking

Like water
They seep through rocks of hearts
Engraving themselves as reference sources
Marking themselves beside their makers

II
Words…
So powerful that elders analogise
Their retraction to spittle thrown into gutters
Which have seen no cleaning for decades
Branding royals servants of poor tongues
Pushing crowns from heads cemented by fate

III
Words…
Ordinary but can break down personalities painfully built
In seconds shared between desperate beings
Plain but can create vengeance
Whose fires have no figured-out fighters
Possess no armoury
But can cause wars
Destroying the world in a split blink

IV
Use them well
And you can cut through deserts of thorns
Into a den within dens of evil
To find consciences well hidden in cages of ruthlessness
Use them not and risk seeing no growth of greatness
Use them carelessly and be the rag of failure
One used to wipe vomit of sick dogs
None sees time and honour
When words work within whims

V
In its vile exchange stay safe
Watching
If attempts to mute mouths at play fail
Love thy thoughts as elites love their pens
But work on them as goldsmiths work to refine gold
Before they see the light of your pages
Words fuel when lighted
Knows no water nor fire fighters
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 20, 2016

Photo Credit: Google Pics

DEFINITIONS

When Christ was born
Riches were myrrh,  incense and gold
Kings and farmers owned them most
Poverty was hunger
With no discrimination for food
Times have traveled
Elevating riches to much of infinity
Upgrading poverty to little from none
Let the scribes note

II
When Christ was born
None sought gifts but him
Fists owned the sole rights to boxing
Days had no hand in their affairs
Now boxing shares space with day
Placed in a birthday celebrated in the stables
Presided by materialism
Cheered on by greed
Little Christos hunt for a master who needs not
Times have really traveled

III
When Christ was born
I am sure hymns ruled the heavens
And not the earth
But solemnity has been booted by papping
Those who walk in opposite paths to christ
Celebrating more in clubs than churches
Claiming belongingness and shouting in daylight at Satans
Times have traveled

IV
Paths turned roads drink from glasses of souls in accidents
Thieves so skilled bless their fingers
In the midst of eyes so visionless
I know time has traveled
Turning straw into needed stars
Killing Herold in his own reign
And replacing him with deceit
What upgraded definitions!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 18, 2016

WHEN HISTORY GNAWS

We remember the claws of yesterday
After feeling the smooching of palms today
A new dawn easily sheds its night
And falls into nothingness
If it records no history
And acts like a boring copycat
Yes, believe it or not
History has teeth which bite through memories

II
Whichever crown graces your head
On the ticket of teeth with graceful smiles
Know the mind can easily alterate mouth
To hide smiles under cloths of bitterness
So remember to tread cautiously
Holding dear hands which pushed your rear
Regarding bards who now sing your fair
And blessing fools who clean your smear
Forgetting not hands which fan your heat
Happiness needs no bureaucratic ticket
To a miserable future

III
We are who we are
Flowing minds into muddy legs
Into thrown rocks
Into immovable mountains
With corners and caves hiding fears untold
You disregard your ladder through comfortability
At your own peril
Especially in these times when royalty is a shadow in ceremonial cloths
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 17th Dec. 2016.

I BE BUSH WOMAN?

Dem say sukuu be all
Woman no be kitchen maid
Woman be queen wey need worship
I see say I be stupid for dis world

II
I get respect
I cook for my big man to chop
He no tink say I go poison am
Im dey trust im life for my hands
If dat no be respect
Wey tin be respect?

III
I know some tink say I be bush woman
No be bush all medicines dey?
No be bush person turn cities?
No be bush all animals dey hide?
I know say bush be life ankasa ankasa

IV
How city queens dey live?
Demma finger nails be like animal claws
Some say dem dey use glue to stick dem
Wetin person fit do with animal claws?
I see why dem hate cooking so

V
I no understand why dem wear shoes
Wey im back be like sharp bones
Dem say hill dem be
If person climb demma hill and walk in demma hill
How she fit tink like person
When im mind be pain pain pain?

VI
Wetin kill me be dem removing skin
Saying dem dey turn abrofo
Wey fashion be peeling skin like snakes?
Abena, I see all
Dem mouth, different different paint every day
Dem dress, small small rags
Catching buttocks, holding breasts
Dem too go fit born babies to grow?
Wey cloth dem go use strap babies for dem back?

VII
I know say I be bush woman
My private things be private
I no see shame for der
I know say I be bush woman
But I wear slippers and feel no pain
I know say I be bush woman
I no challenge men when dem no want challenge me for my kitchen
I be bush woman
I be bush woman
I be bush woman but I no be counterfeit
Looking like fake paint for morning
And ugly old woman for night
All dat ponce dey destroy skin
Tweakai!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec. 15, 2016

WHAT AM I?

I sit in comfort on my bed
With head carrying fires of hell
What could I possibly be to you?
A fling in a sling on a swing?

II
I think with my heart
Which beats like bass in a loose speaker
I hurt like a bird with broken wings
I can fly to no tree
I fear to walk,
Lest a hungry hunter of loneliness swallows
All this while a voice keeps asking within
What am I to you?
A fling on a sling in a swing?

III
Fragile hearts need no hard enclaves
Fragile souls, need no shadows
Which connive with darkness of commitment
To leave them stranded
When monsters of uncertainties chase
I am a lost child in a lonely old body
My tantrums being my walls
Walls you have broken
But what am I to you?
A fling in a sling on a swing?

IV
Love me some
Or leave me crudely
Living in the middle is living like a goat
Strapped to a tree on a great occasion
Whatever my fate, sinks my soul in seconds
What at all am I to you?
A fling in a sling on a swing?
Poor little me!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 29, 2016

BLESS ME WITH SEED (For those in need of blessings of the womb)

There is a farm hidden in me
Although sunlight feels not its land
And air pumps through thin tubes
As rain never get to muddy its ground
It is fertile enough to grow

II
Bless my land with a perfect seed
Help it blend in rot to live
Help it grow as seed to show in its pot of a flower
Help it mature to be harvested into itself
A land this well faces many problems
Without the blessing of a good seed
Please gift me one

III
Close all ridiculing mouths with awe
Let all pointing fingers shiver to show
Let all eyes pop open to be whipped by air into tears
For I am a farm ready to feed the earth
More food never threaten famine
Look at me too

IV
A farm to grow a seed to grow into a farm
Or to grow into a seed
The earth thrives on this
Farmer of unseen farms
Look down on me
Poor me, strapped on societal public pole
With shame ropes and incompetent clothes
And tend to mine
For I am but a wreck in wait
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Dec.14, 2016

A PLEA FOR ALL

Hope

Dawn is opening morning’s doors

Freeing beings like birds to fly

Look keenly and see the lie

As some with feathers tower above legs

II

Birds are known to fly to seek

Food they peck with oh their beaks

Crippling birds do seem so weak

With their dangers so in chase

But what of the blind and lonely bird?

III

As we prepare to step out

With mythical loads of problems so weighing down

Cover our sadness with great smiles

With our weaknesses polished down

No head is carried with no need

Do ensure that we all do feed

And like a grateful nightingale

Our thanks will surely bless in tunes

Our Maker

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) December 14, 2016

(Photo Credit: Google pics)