ALWAYS MY BABY IN MY HEART

On this day I severe the placenta of care
With the scissors of nonsensical ties
Brought forth by atrocious idiocy
Nevertheless, you are my baby in my heart

II
On this day
I make you a trap
A trap made for heads drunk with bitterness
Living in a forest of no- sense
Should they step a little on you
By Jove they will know
You are my baby in my heart

III
Be the strong you’ve always been
Be that warrior you’ve always been
Never bow to the hurricanes that battle you on health fields
Mama’s prayers add on libations of your ancestry
Because you will always be my baby in my heart

IV
It is just unfortunate I yoked an insane poison to pollute your rights
It is just unfortunate I was bitten by a rabid dog of naivety
To push you into a madhouse of chaos
But Akwaasuamu and Asubone protect you
You are the great grandson of Nana Yaw Agyare
One no knife must touch lest the hand that wields suffers extinction
You are a royal who fits the throne of Abetifi
Oh sickness is a dare!
Even in your loneliness
Know you will always be my baby in my heart

V
A curse hangs on any finger that will point ill your way
Blindness will uproot any eye that will cast evil your way
Let any heart that hate on you try
A blast will put it into the past
Know you’ve always been my religion
And will always be my baby in my heart
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October, 17, 2018

THE TREE OF AUCC

Creativity just walked under the shed of AUCC
Re-echoing its bosshood in thought
Embracing bosoms ready to blossom
Announcing its determination to surpass the fertility its umbrella gives
Time’s tongue is yearning to tell tales of
Inventions, wordy and active!
Visitations thrilling and impacting!
Innovations interesting and glorifiable!
Trains of goodness hide in steps of practicalities, and will
Yield harvests so fulfilling that the globe will stalk Adabraka!

II
Abyss of intelligence has been born!
Resources apparalling fashionistally
Talesomely, tellingly, trackingly oh thankfully!

Sing supportive songs to seal the deal
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 17, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

IN GRATITUDE

There was a rock that knocked my senses
To see hurled life stones
Amidst wincing and weeping
As materials for building in this storm

II
You were the ink that gathered my alphabets
Even when my pages got wet
With rains of my tears
To gather for me a crowd of cheers

III
You are my touch of maturity
Taking off my past mask in motion slow
To make me see how blessed I am
To have featured in your oven of glory

IV
For all the love you have written through me
On hearts of many far and near
I worship in gratitude, head on the ground
Like a pious Muslim

V
Keep my state to walk my fate
Oil my sanity to fill my maturity
Make me love all my rains no matter their torrents
Know I am so grateful
For the shadows that protect
Even in my darkest hours oh King of Glory!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Oct 16, 2018

IN MY BODY TEMPLE

Be in my day
And have your say
Plaster memories so coarse with happiness
Tile failures so humiliating with greatness
Paint tears with infectious laughter
In my body temple

II
Be in my say
And help cut my hay
In this perfect sun
Help me no downtrodden shun
Cover my pain
With the beauty of gain
In this body temple

III
Do bless my sky
For buttering my pie
Whether buttering so good
Or others to brood
Sweeten all life potion
To strengthen locomotion
In my body temple

IV
Let love wash my hate
Gifting fulfilment to build my faith’s estate
Fill my erosions
To fit my emotions
You, my God, is my strongest tower
So nothing should plant cower
In my body temple
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 14, 2018

FLY YOUR LAST

So you are aggressively flying here and there
When most of your heads are hanging
Some in the hands of your owners
As your anger of blood gushes out like angry tap water fighting through a small hose
Masters, fly your last!

II
Ei! Look at the mould on your sense
Disgustingly hairier than abandoned spoilt foods of the gods
Look at the line of your words
Nonsensically crooked as though they come from a filthy sty
Just ask the mirror for the nature of your eyes
You are like a never lived vampire hanging between the power of the gods
And the will of spirits
Ah! Kon kon kon kon kon kon kon kon!
The time is wake-oclock!

III
Wake-oclock at the dawn of many sensible fingers
Holding erasers specially made for outmodedness and stupidity!
Stupidity that some souls must stay in their shadows to model their jittery steps!
The pickaxe of fairness has dug the tomb of misogyny!
The shovel of equality is waiting to clear the soil of egoism
To bury the dark which chained high minds to stakes of domesticity
So fly hither and tither with your last strength
Until you die to be birthed anew
Into the day of sensefulness
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Oct. 12, 2018

ALL THIS LOVE FOR TRUMP

Some whirlwinds come for admiration
Some do come to blind
I have watched you take your world by storm
Conquering odds to stand tall through ridiculous gait
With hooting superseding ovations
Disgust overpowering cheers
All the while asking
Is all this for Trump?

II
I bet you didn’t think of the battle on your way up
I bet you didn’t plan your tactics through all the firing
I bet you thought light of your armour
No wonder you’re boxing difficulties even with peace
I guess the spider has outgrown its web, making me ask
Is all this for Trump?

III
Now you have turned into an “akate”
All farms you touch die in the birth of their blooms
Now you have turned god of drought
All rivers you touch dry
As fast as sand gulps water
Now you have turned virus
All minds you touch need anti-viruses which in turn suggest formatting
Which sometimes fails to work
Calling for abandonment
Which soul can take so much love from its hatred cooked hatred
And stand tall in so much ridicule?
Are you a walking corpse or a dead goat star?
Need I ask
Is that all for you?

IV
You are brave in being that gutter flooding your family
You are a star for being that darkness consuming your loved ones
You need claps of honour
For all the strength negativity has built
For your chosen red road
No wonder appellations of discomfort toe your line
I wish I knew your pillow to ask if your body is a widower
A widower torn from its soul
From the beauty of insults to the hurts of countable love
I ask
Is this all for Trump?

V
Oh nature may have been kind to make you this handsome
With mmefe hair and unique skin
Hidden eyes and voiceful noise
Impulsive thoughts and unrestrained guts
Be sure not to befriend lunacy on your way out
Be careful not to chat suicide on your way down
Just think not of hugging amends in a hurting fall
Stand tall and be sure to win at all times
At least to compensate for the model you uprooted from magazine covers
Into your shadow
You beautiful nemesis of a once great land!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Oct. 7, 2018

ROUGH

Are you a meteorologist of femininity
Reading through its seasons to pick?
Are you a weather so changing a blue
Combing through skies to lick?
Are you a fire, burning through seasons to kill?
You definitely must be a chameleon, reflective of every passing colour!

II
You picked me up like sunny season
Only to drop me in season rainy
Like a stale spittle in a royal mouth
To pick but a clone of me
One who fell from your branch by harmattan’s dawn call
Only for your cycle to continue with different specimen in season
Are you a wicked walking sky?

III
I pray
For you to be burnt by a hotter sun
Hosted by you to set at your will
I pray
For you to meet a fiery thunder
After an enlightening lightning strikes your cruel cue
I pray
For you to lose your lining silver
After one hot made clouds!
Pray
No harmattan drains your juices
After your taunting spells
Nature should be fair to call you to discipline
To give you a punishing crown of pain
For all the fallen seasons oh you wicked sky!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 9, 2018

I DO YOU, DON’T DO ME

Mr. says she is evil
Who allows more than a pestle to pound in her mortar
Mr. says she is petty
Who uses the many mortars a pestle pounds into to act same
His reason, pestles go whole and come not less
Mr. says pestles always come to their original mortars
After straying no matter how beautiful their adventures
But Mr. didn’t think of the mind always digging up
Emotions of hurts
In belongingness breached by outside poundings

II
Mr. thought not well through
Mr. spoke, sɛbi, from his pot of selfishness
In a normal world
Mortars can welcome more pestles at once
In this modern world
Nkofie which previously gave us out
Surely can be cleared even days or months ahead
Those questioning eyes should rather look into your reflection
In this modern world
A mortar’s ticklish wishes hide not in chains of morality
Why should “you do me” not embrace “I do you”?

III
By all means Mr. should hold his pestle on his charming forehead
Hammering away in welcoming mortars
But should be no Agokoli building a high fence in manipulations
What is a world of two where one’s explorations forbid the other?
What is a world of two when one fills his feelings and shuts another’s in?
What is a world of two when one’s guttering filth can fill a virtuous temple static in a land of holiness?
Mr. is like a goat building metal fence for a vulnerable sheep
Mr. thought not well through
Does he think himself superhuman?

IV
As for me o
His haunts can’t taunt my hunt
As for me o
His “hei”s hurt not my “hi”s
As for me o
His poundings are tickets for my pounded
As for me o
The sky is one on our earthly pates
So “I do you, don’t do me” is his child play
Made up to tickle my nkro bɔ
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 28, 2018

The Sightful Kareuteurs

Mama, I have seen a miracle
A miracle which walks eyelessly eyeful
An inspirational walking miracle
Whose tail has been held by life
And used as bait to be placed in a jungle of hardships
Mama, but you can’t believe how hardship hides from this soul
On its very grounds

II
Mama, I am in awe
Watching a wondrous in closed eyelids
Go higher than supposed eyefuls
And beating them to seeing
Who turns curses to blessings so beautiful in a typhoon of misfortunes?
Who knows so very much with just a world of imagination?

III
Mama, I am like a stone struck by an awakening lightning
Do I have a choice to whine
When this wonder stands in line?
Do I have a voice to cry
When this black star refuses to sigh?
Do I have the right to weakness
When this soul exudes mountains of strength?
Mama, please see through my shock
The laurels I never see by day in a whole!
I am in awe
Watching a sightless sighting of a great he
A great he who will be all that he wants
No matter the prison bars of limitations
Placed on him by this cruel earth
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 29, 2018

BREAKING THE BREAKING

Let’s break the legs of abuse
And force some heads to conscience use
Let’s break hurt’s defying legs
To put under sanity wisdom’s pegs
For many walls weep in their keep
And many wills break in their sleep

II
See the macho hounding a stick
None will tell you it is a prick
Its are made in anger’s dark
Taking clothes off a man to bark
Odufodufono!
Oodufadufano!
Muscles do need restraints of empathy
To have the beauty of nature’s sympathy

III
So break a sweat to stop an ill
Break indifferences fence to work a will
Mouths can break but hands can kill
Wait not long to see a still
Feel to seal death’s meal in pest
And let chaos remain a laughable jest
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©Sept 30, 2018

GIVING YOU UP

There are plants that grow not in certain soils
There are plants whose nutrients are found in questionable soils
My soil lost to you in nutrients
And age has been a witness
So I had to give you up

II
You might not know but I dug a foundation of hard work
To lay bricks of finances to see you well
I combed nations to get the best materials
And hired masons well vexed to work
To work on you all to no avail
If tears to God could renew
It would have as I built seas just for you
Since naught worked and your half builder chased me with problems so varied
I had to give you up

III
There might be a day when I would be called to your court
A day when you will question me for abandoning your building
A day when hatred built by your new soil will shake our love
But know I know no malice when it comes to you
And all I did was to see you well
Words can only express truths and not all feelings
You would’ve known stories that got me worried
But on this day, I pray for forgiveness
For giving you up

IV
For every second you’ll be on my mind just like a plastering on a wall
For every hour you’ll be in my prayers just like the lining of the sky
Each day will be hell without you
But what can I do when your contributory half
Proved demon to collapse my world
And forced me to give you up?
Rains of sadness are falling in my heart
And blinding my eyes
All I have to say is sorry, so so sorry
For giving you up
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 20, 2018

PRISONERS IN OURSELVES

An angered in a fear
A hurt in a tear
A love in a shyness
Hatred in loving
All throwing tantrums bodies can’t bear to show
So model what suits
We are many in one
Acting ourselves within
Chasing models without

II
If our feelings will show
Like movies through our countenance
It will be a world where one watches another for eternity
We are many in one
Acting ourselves within
Chasing models without

III
If we can take off our clothes of fear
If we can take off our clothes of shyness
If only we can drown impressions in rivers of bravery
Many an unwanted plays of hypocrisy
Will die in the soil of conception
Why are we many in one
Acting ourselves within
Chasing models without?

IV
Prisoners in small cages created by societal norms!
Prisoners made to love their cages enough to kill the free!
Prisoners ready to bury their bones in protection of their chains!
Prisoners sadly happy to call bile honey!
Listen to the buried voice that shakes the grounds of your consciences!
Life should be more
Way more than this
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 2018

IN PARTING: Honouring Atukwei Okai

Clouds hang, umbrelling the earth
To lure the perfect air to lead
To lead your gentle soul to rest
The sun partnered in the sky
In shining dryness, to warm
To warm your beautiful spirit to leave
To leave this venue in happiness
Words form in the sky of minds
In appellations to honour
To honour your immortal talent in thanks
In thanks to your charming muse
Which blessed in wits
Wits which shook hearts, corrected ills
And antagonized change haters
On this day, this day Logoligi Rhythms milk our sadness and
Force many more angels of greatness to guard your steps
Uncle Atukwei, walk in shoes of pride!

II
As you journey to sleep leaving many to weep
Many more will keep your words so deep in their hearts
Long after your clay dusts the earth
Many many many more in generations to come will know you
Even before the ingredients of their favourite meals
In their loving mothers pots which lick fires to greet their mornings
Are made known to them
Aren’t you in lullabies through to dirges?
Oblivion has nothing on you!
Dissatisfaction is sand under your discarded chalewote!
From Ayi to Zuweira, Attaa to Zaara
All eyes see your flag flying like a kite in the embracing sky
Your rainbow of wealth left to us
Paints pictures of the fallen palm tree
Who will forever serve till eternity
Uncle Kwei Da yie!
Yaa wɔ ojogbaan
Rest in the most perfect of peace
Till time merges us to join in the pot of history
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Sept. 14, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

THE GREAT OVERSEER

At all times, in all places
God is aboard my ship
Through all challenges, in all pain
A rock oversees my dock
A storm can overthrow my form
A rain can drain all my strength to strain
Many a mile can feed me bile much like River Nile
But at the bend to the end
He will drain all stains, and clear the bane
Oh God is on board
A fortress and a trustworthy mattress overseeing all deadly falls
Fears can pile all tears
Hurts can bet to play pet around my net
Hate can hammer my fate’s pate to create a bait
But this Doctor knows all doctored
And will all fractures manufacture
So I sail through these tormenting trials no matter how frail
Because my God is really on board my ship
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 13, 2018

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 16

Nyamekye felt strange looking at the lively Kumnipa and happy Ama by her bedside. Boadu sadly looked on not knowing what to do. Nyamekye intentionally closed her eyes and feigned sleep, they had no option, they had to leave. Boadu could not hold it any longer.
Nyamekye, I know you’re not sleeping. Tell me what is going on. Are you now in love with Daakyehene Kumnipa?” She opened her eyes and looked at him surprised she had been caught. “I am your husband, secretly, but still your husband. I am the one who knows you even from within. You think I wouldn’t notice? From lighting up to sadness when he comes and leaves to acting funny when Ama comes with him. Listen, I know your parents do everything you ask of them but this is not right. You set the parameters. You chose me and forced Ama on Kumnipa. Imagine tearing into pieces three hearts to fix back the tantrums of one. Are you more human than us? If it is royalty, know Kumnipa too is a royal, if it is talent, know Ama is more talented than you. If you see me as no human being, I respect that, because I gave you grounds to shift your love from me but my half is breathing in you right now. Please don’t do this. Try, try looking at me. Haven’t I changed? Please give me another chance and let us fix this.”
Nyamekye broke down and cried.
Boadu, do you think I love feeling this way? Can’t you see the effort I am making in not being caught with my true feelings on the seams of my clothes? Can’t you see I hate myself for the feelings that drive my being? Can’t you see I am tearing apart? I am not a spoilt brat to let it out and destroy another couple. I am not an unfilial daughter to disappoint my parents who went to lengths to fix what my heart desired. Believe me, I will never tell them anything but do not push me in feelings I have no control over, do not taunt me and leave me be. Don’t push yourself on me. Can’t you see your presence repulses me?
Boadu, with eyes full of tears, for the first time knelt and bowed to Nyamekye in chambers. He cried out loud and left her presence. He asked her best maiden to always be by her side and resolved to sleep in the hall. He too had his ego to protect, for what has a pauper if you take away his ego?
The Ekom Festival was underway. For a week, the people of Apemso rejoiced in their ability to beat hunger since days their ancestors suffered near death at the hands of famine. They pounded lots of fufu with cassava and plantain, prepared soup with bush meat, different fishes and goat meat with chicken or duck meat. It was always a marvellous week. The palace overflowed with food during the Ekom Festival. Volunteers went there to help in the preparation of food and every person from Apemso was entitled to their privilege to go and eat there. The herbal doctors rushed to Nyamekye’s chambers. She was in labour and it wasn’t an ordinary labour as she was bleeding profusely. The king got the message at the main durbar, spoke quickly about the need for togetherness, communal labour and abstaining from taboos. He felt sad mentioning the last one and refrained from throwing more light on it. He asked permission from his elders and together with his queen, left to wait with Boadu, Nyamekye and Ama at Nyamekye’s hall. Boadu was more anxious than everyone there. Ohemaa Abrampah showed signs of dislike for Ama, and everyone there noticed. She refused to bless her after greetings, refused to join in when her husband made conversations with her and refused to look at her. Kumnipa felt sad but just looked at Ama, pleading with his eyes for her peace of mind.
The doctors finally finished their work, came out, knelt before the king and announced the death of the baby boy even before it landed on earth. Luckily, Nyamekye was fine and responding to 1treatment. Boadu sunk to the ground wailing. Everyone tried to make him stop. “Don’t you know it is a taboo to cry when you lose your first born? People without proper upbringing will never know this.” Ohemaa Abrampah wailed. Everyone turned to look at her. “I am not in tears because of the death but because of how the princess will suffer at the loss”. Everyone bowed and took their eyes off her. Ohene Asaa just simply consoled her, they went to look at the sleeping princess and left. Ohene Asaa watched as people worked hard at cooking. “No fufu will be pounded today. Who eats their delicacies when death visits their home?” That said, he left the people in sadness as he led his wife, following his entourage to their chambers. The people didn’t know whether to cry or not, they didn’t know if Nyamekye was dead or her child. Many sent messages out that the princess was dead until the announcers announced the death of the first child of the royal successors.
Boadu could not be consoled. He knew the death of his child would definitely shake his stay in the palace. Since he had lost the love of Nyamekye, it would mean he’d have to live on needles until the end. He was full of fear in tears. “Daakyehene, who patronizes the grounds on which a potable river once stood for water? Who recognizes the importance of a huge stump of a once shading big tree in the hot sun? What does a broken bowl do after serving royals and thrown on the rubbish heap? God must be a royal! God must definitely favour royals.
Ama left them as she tried to think through her fault with the queen, the meaning of Boadu’s similar proverbs in succession. She felt odd too because she remembered the distance in Nyamekye’s relation to her. Something was not right, something, was definitely not right.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

A LIE

A lie is “ei go and die!” on ordinary tongues
But turns a pie on extraordinary tongues
Boos, jeers and anger for the former
Laughs, claps and cheers for the latter
Smell it, the stinking rot in polished seats!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 9, 2018

BARK TO BRIGHTEN

When poverty chains you in life
And calls on need to put you in strife
Even in the chains do continue to bark
Look and see even in the blinding dark

II
When whips plant on you some aching sores
Which cease and freeze your airy pores
Never kneel to your chasing flies
Never sing your failure’s cries

III
There sure will come a day you’ll hunt
And given a time to pull your stunt
So do rehearse even in your chains
To shock your master out of his sanes

IV
You’ll dance even in their trance
As your hard work will you enhance
So never think yourself a dog for life
Just try your all in all your strife
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 7, 2018

THE TREE OF HOPELESSNESS

We have reached the tree of hopelessness
On whose biggest stool branches sit foolishness
Who order for your beautified abode
After their worked thoughts rode
In gains of power
And a presence many will cower
Odomankomah gye wo man!

II
We are wearing clothes of indiscernible thoughts
Our minds with manipulations bought
Advertisements of a heavenly earth
Demonizing even struggles of dying breaths
Miracles on hard work
Loving of high jerks
Otwereduampong gye wo man!

III
Have you seen the magnified Jesuses in limousines?
Seen self gratification in grand scenes?
Have you seen the clothes of magazines
Against your hungry stomachs with no luck in beans?
Oh the suffocation for their little means
Against the tightest apathy of your peoples jeans?
Okasapreko gye wo man!

IV
You see the blowing lollipops hiding in working podiums
You know the dying paupers sipping their poisonous sodiums
You know the stinking rot covered by your worshipped fame
Don’t you love your name enough to name and shame?
Okatakyie gye wo man!

V
We need no umbrella with gully holes in this insane though rain!
We need no hope plane with an obvious crash on these plains
We need a map from which generations can tap
Not chaos that will our generations trap
Awura mu Owura gye wo man!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 9, 2018

ONTO THE NEXT

So I craved a properly shaved
Well chiselled face
To be in my face and check my pace
His fine red lips in loving sips
His hairful hair
In a fine trimmed dare
I thought I had seen the perfect one
Until he got under one bright lit sun
Oh where is the half of this fine man?
I guess in the box of God the fox
So like Ananse in an unsafe flight
I jumped and fled
Onto the next

II
I saw the perfect black skin in a just luck sin
Whose breasts did speak
In muscled peak
His fine fine fingers in finished fins
Oh how would it taste in between those arms?
So like a hare in an air carried hair
I rushed to try to win the heart
His hi got a punch so strong it hurt
A halitosis knock out hurting my nose
Why? Are you Azumah in his knocking prime?
Onto the next, wai unto the next

III
Oh perfect moons do dig out swoons
A fair in wear
And tall I swear!
Oh toffee like lips give perfect tips
The hairy chest is my pillowing quest
A magnetic pull and a loving stool
A tasty kiss and a perfect bliss
The bed did laugh at my horrified look
A chalk in the place of yummy pestle!
Mtcheeeew! Even famished monkeys
Will run like donkeys
When they see this needle on the queer big sack
Where did you drown the rest?
Onto the next, ah unto the next!

IV
Personality and fame and me as a dame
That perfect voice
That sought for choice
I watered my pot just thinking of the spot
A closer look and a sorry book
Fingers of tens and thousands of fans
Serious Traps Dicey surfaced
What if there are worms to rape my health?
What if I am made to take the shelve?
Unto the next, chai unto the next!

V
Unto the next hopped onto the chest
Falling and wrinkling is not the best
Opened arms with closed eyelids wait
Calling for any in decades of four
Bald or bad, poor or sore
Short or sad, sick or maimed
My onto the next now plays me like a ball
On a field I built with my youth’s hard time
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 1, 2018

IN THIS NEST CALLED EARTH

In this nest called earth
Minds differ in colour of thinking
As others sit to pray, plan and stand to tan
Under the tough skies of hard work
Some weave their traps like spiders
To get hold of some hunting flies
Others look for pliers to take out the knots on others barrows
Okukuseku! Nnipa ho yɛ hu sene apataku

II
Why do visions differ?
Legs seeking impact have hands seeking their fall
Eyes watching out for others
Have minds selling them blindness
Hearts rooting for peace
Have heads building chaos in their pumps
Ears listening for progress
Have teeth clattering to disturb
Hands hoping to work have mouths selling them as plagues
Okukuseku! Nnipa ho yɛ hu sene apataku!

III
It’s amazing why the sound of ghosts
From the voice of our own puts our muscles in flight!
Funny how fear of the unknown sets fires of panic in our veins
When the known are its architect!
We yearn to to-to-to and ta-ta-ta
On the burning fires of our hypocrisy
Okukuseku ei! Nnipa ho yɛ hu sene apataku!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 1, 2018

JUBILATING SADNESS

Oh you tears

Feeling like streams
Because sadness feeds your source
On this heavy pillow
Think again
Even your feeder tires in abusing

II
A sun will shine
To dry you out
Even rains from skies have their exits
So be not prideful
Your today can be erased by a happiness tomorrow
Your stains can easily be washed even by Azumah Blows
So do all you can
Wobble and paint my eyelids
Swell and bloat my eyes and face
Your time will surely gather dust
On the shelves of my history
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2018

OGUAN-PATAKU

Why don’t you show
The frown you keep beneath your smile?
Why don’t you show
The fangs you keep and present as teeth?
Why don’t you show
The claws you keep as nails in my greeting?
Why keep a friendly body in daylight
And release your natural haunting shadow in my dark?

II
Fight squarely
On a battlefield where eyes can see
Fight like you do the rage you keep under wraps
Even when your heart throws tantrums of explosion
Fight like a hungry lioness in its zone
Not a mosquito in a disturbing dark
Nor a snake in its matching coloured grass
My back has no eyes to see
And no head to think
Let’s fight a frontal

III
Hate in dignity not in cowardice
State in clarity not in hiding
Fold the skin on the smile and reveal the famished fangs
There is no prosecution in expressing feelings
Act out the burns which make you an acting friend
On the stage of my life
For I have no fee for that difficult role
And certainly my audience have no legs for a standing ovation
In congratulations of a villain whose opponent knew no battle
Even in my skilled fall
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 25, 2018

A PRAYER

In this cold
Do me hold
Even when sold
Make me bold
You who did me mould

II
We are in grasses filled with rhyming snakes
We are cut weeds being chased by sharp rakes
We are vehicles with destructive brakes

We are bread death busily bakes
Why won’t everything cause fear shakes?

III
Build a hell around my well
And not a heaven to sell my shell
Build a strength to surround my fall
And not a weakness to sound shame’s call
Build determination around my vulnerabilities
And not pessimism to water my disabilities
You know the formula for my clay
So hold me till I decay
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 24, 2018

FOR BUSUMURU KOFI ANNAN

We have lived to see a fountain of example seize
After watering many a revering
We have lived under the disinfection of a lotus
Even in this menopausal mud
We have seen the rise of an oak even in thirsty soil
And we have learnt to dream even in our wakefulness
Busumuru, yɛdawoase o!

II
It takes just a being to change a state
Stories of Kofi Babone splattered satires
And mirrored our flaws
Until you blossomed through a Friday
And overturned it
You were the great Kwaku Ananse
Who wove his nest to house the world’s struggling
You were the soft worded tongue
Who balmed wounded hearts and achieved many a global stability
You were that one icon
Whose breath exuded peace
Personality called wars to their ending
Extended hand placed ties between nations

III
You were the best black star
Which led nations for years on end
Combing the globe from its hair to its toenails
To take relief to those in dire straits
You were he whose life was a gift to the unfortunate
Those arms that embraced the sick and dying
The hungry and thirsty
Orphans and the dejected
None knows the tactics of judgement
But it seems clear Odomankomah’s right hand called
Your soul to rest

IV
There is no need for tears
For even death tears at the empty mud
You left in its saucepan
You gave your all
Before heeding to His call
Atribal you in a tribal space!
Loyal soul in a perfect temperament
Sweet personality in a careless world
Ya wɔ ojogbannn
Agya pa da yie o
Do rest well as you walk on our red carpet of thanksgiving
And celebrations of your highest feats
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2018

NNAASE NKOA

Shame has turned into a cobweb hosting my soul
As I look at my once rubbish bowl
Sitting in gold
Receiving rains of blessings in many fold
Odomankomah, forgive this body which sat on its foresight
And battled you on a crowded site

II
The vulture whose best saucepan was the rubbish heap
Is now an eagle who paths a dessert for many to keep
The bin of problems transforms
Forcing many a respected to adjust their forms
Why did these eyes fail to see
The blessed egg of polishings with the worst pain yoke?
Oh forgive, I was the acting joke!

III
Otwereduampong a yɛtwere woa yɛpong abremponteng!
Odomankomah a yɛdan woa yɛ nyɛ ankonam!
Ototorobonsu a nsu ne awia yɛ wo asomafo wo abrabɔ biara mu!
King whose crumbs of knowledge equip the best earthly kings!
A zillion tongues won’t do justice to this thanksgiving
Cementing my heart
Naase o!
Shida soong
Akpe kakakaka
Thank you for being who you’ve always been and not blinking this ingrate into ashes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2018

THIS MATHEMATICS OF DATING (Crazy Stanzas)

We have travelled through riddles
Where subs were added in set fiddles
Who at all broke the middles
To bring us to this confusion of lonely needles?

II
We knew familiar binary numbers of hearts
In fractions birthically laid out in charts
Now positive and negative integers are left to try out
Spark fires of hatred and crowd shout
To lay bare trignometries of trickstering timbers
In root fingering into vaginominal embers
Before a day’s rain marks a day
Of their loving decay

III
Which bin houses the filth made out of logical reasoning
Which graphed spiritism in the fear of sexual seasoning
To cut its percentages of obedience to naught
Buying through variations of statically stylistic taught
Causing vectors of expressions to snake through tinglings of transformations
Through body rotations and translations
Which collage visuals of reflections
In a future of happiness and or dejection?

IV
We know about the use of menstrual mensuration
To run through circles, then angles in hopeful construction
Of beautiful storeys of relations
Many a sine, cosine and tangent have crushed
On staged stages rushed
And have received many a bash
And societal tongue lash
Swish, showoff, put out, walk no talking
Planes of dramatic surds in absurd stalking
Then sequences of grieving
Logarithms of hypocritical I-Am-Doing-Better-Than-You-ing
Until another fish falls into the net of either
Who acts not in pleasing of neither
But to dig hurts of the audience

V
This mathematics of dating
Has lost its rating
Just as Ananse’s wisdom tickles slates of minds
It just sits in danger of shelving on stands of behinds
Harvesting pa-hwim in body sparks and offing
In a pay as you go body satisfaction
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 15, 2018

PASTOWEALTHISM

It was supposed to be farm stool
That every tired farmer could sit in rest
It was supposed to be a river
Meandering across scary deserts
For tired travelers on paupering roads
To quench their thirst
It was supposed to be a fruited tree
For all in hunger
A calmer for all in anger
A shelter, for all to treasure
A moral wholesale, for all to measure
A priceless home for all troubled, struggling and happy
But what do we see?

II
Money has bought the foresight of all
Trashing morals in clothes of fecal wealth
Trashing help in pants of corruption
Throwing God’s love to the wind
Like ashes in a tsunami
Why won’t masses push for an overthrow?

III
We build our forts on trust
In blinded googles
We build our thoughts on worship
On mis-sighted men in arranged accoutrements
We bank our hope on foxes in wool
Thinking others sinners
Fearing the devils in space
Locking our doors with our enemies
And sleeping so soundly
Of what use is God’s man who stashes food
When stomachs cry in thunder of famine?

IV
It is sad that the world has seen this day
Where holes live on holiness
And every ant has a choice to lead to feed
Or sit to be fed on
The heart of God is really bigger than man and his beholdings
Indeed!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 11, 2018

AREA PESTLE

Maame Menka!
Call Owusua and Akosua
Yaa Bruwaa, Ama Serwaa
Afia Adutwumwaa and Eno Boowaa
Selikem and Elikem
Hasana and Husna
To come to my compound now
I have seen the area pestle
Pounding and breaking mortars of our land!
Including the newly built, ones in building

And ones whose trees are in the watering stage

II
When two pestles clashed in Agyekumwaa’s compound
In just three minus two years back
Hands clapped
Tongues wagged
Ei! I never knew eyes could do a 360° horror dance
As mouths spat only to drive the area asanka away
Poor mortar who had the capacity to contain several pestles even at once
Was never allowed a moment of peace
Until she wore the clothes of darkness
And took to her heels

Before another daylight
Holding a merciless mfeawa woke!!
So why is this ordinary pestle
Made from a baked kwaabrɛfrɛ
Parading the street like a hero?

III
Let’s chop him down
For firewood is a rare commodity of late!
Let’s burn him down!
Lest he takes little of all sicknesses,
Makes them grand
And distributes like a clueless manufacturer!
It could even be a bitter serving!
Let’s not watch like idiots,
Humming dissatisfaction in our choked oesophagus
As the unfair society sits solemnly
Like an elder who knows his fart would be blamed on the children!!!

IV
Times have travelled and we must so move
Our eyes have been opened
We must close all zips hosting greedy snakes
To save our young generation from their venoms
If a monkey who works can be driven from bowls with meals
Surely, it should be easy for the baboon to be dismissed
With just a one-voice tool!!
What sweetens the goose surely will pamper tongues of the gander!!!
Now let’s get him…
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 31, 2018

IN THE CHEST OF THE OLD HAG

Oh how complex is age?
Known to have initially been tagged with sages
Until dawns saw kings living above sages in new pages!
Oh what is the coupling advantage?
That a lone femme traveller is seen on rampages
All her ails needing attention seeking bandages
One who spoke no sane languages
Until her garbage can is given as death’s wages
Tell me you on wisdom’s stages!!!

II
Does life come with a mirroring path?
Do partners fall like rain into cans of blooming femininity?
Each has fires of passions regretfully turned ashes
And sent into memories never to be revived
Each has a fantasy stuck in make-belief
With an ever hopeful prayer never to be answered
Each has a dream always cut short by wakefulness and baked sweats
Each has a flaw barring doors of chances in all enhancements
Why should pink be my crime of failure when many a blues live like me?

III
It is a baton of blessing since age
For one to have caught the eyes of cupid through adowa
Through to delicious preparations of fufu and lapeewa
It was graciousness for princesses to be handed princes and or warriors
On golden platters in exchange for their doll-hoods
Age has travelled west in jester-field
So I am an old cargo
A can needed to be booted with unseriousness
A hag with a harsh harsh-tag
A societal sheep flawed by not having at least a bully of a billy goat
But what can be done on these stakes?
Nothing but a lookout for the inscription of foolishness
On foreheads of the favoured
Lighting the fires beneath to have me roasted
When my meat is nothing even beasts like that can devour
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2018

KRONOLOGY

I saw a sun in your heart
That I stole to light me up
Your proximity is a key
Which sparks a playful arrhythmia
In the sealed contours of my chest
A thief prays to never be caught
So why do I steal daily from the same spot?

II
I believe it is time to graduate into an armed robber
Wearing camo of braveness
With an armour vehicle of shamelessness
Guns of affection
Handcuffs of interest
Boots of attention
Bats of charms
With a skill of invincibility in operation

III
Oh thoughtful I in this thoughtless me
Raise no eyebrows
You know beatings of shame
Jailing of indifference
Shooting of animosity
And lynching of rumours
Aren’t exactly hells you’d want to experience
After all, we all share a fuel tank of breath
And these palpitations are known in these seats within

IV
Oh how fair the hair of stares!
How bright the sight of tights!
How right the might of height!
How fast this heart runs!
Say no more!!!
There is a madness in this house!
One that puts together mismatched words
Through the ink of one bitten by Cupid’s arrow
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 24, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

ROTTEN NUTS OF THE LAW

It is sad
Very sad when a rotten nut
Destroys the sweet flavour of a whole pan of soup
Who can; tired legs,
Needful minds and broken palms run to?
A whole tree thought to be Odum
Ended up as a beautifully rotten pawpaw tree
Waiting to murder an unsuspecting leaner
Who made the laws
Punches
On unarmed faces?
Who drove assault of innocence into heads of protectors?
Who programmed an enforcer into a robotic abuser?
Who killed empathy in books of the strong?

Can I blame a cruel fist without noting its roots?
Oh poverty!
You are a violence which needs Osama’s bomb to eliminate!
And I am weeping that your funeral mocks my mortality
In confidence of your immortality!!!
I am hurt that your existence’s grey hair cuffs my infant wisdom
On the ticket of your old age!!!
I am saddened by your rotten teeth
Which bites to turn full humans into harmless beasts
To suffer at the hands of originally harmful beasts!!!
Poverty! You need a suicide pill

So computerized law enforcers can punch in their sorry heads
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 21, 2018

CRUMPLING HEARTS

The lightless sky smiles with doom
This heart’s sigh responds with gloom
For you are the lie which walks the night with no moon

II
All the promises made in fantasy
And all the raw wishes saved in fallacy
Still battle these stitches binding this heart

III
Yet you yell in my deepest cell
Still selling bane for my hottest hell
But mouth’s bell can none tell

IV
We are hearts which speak best in hate
We are hats which are worn best in bait
We are hurts whose remedy is in our late
And I am breaking, breaking down with every knowing
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 3, 2018

THIS IS ACCRA (Crazy Stanzas)

I love Accra
Which exist like heaven to a village dreamer
But in reality, is a cane soaked in kerosene
And smeared with pepper
On the skin of a greener pasture traveler

II
I love the name of Accra
Whose birthed names can fill the Korle Lagoon
And litter its centre
While its pregnant ones churn in heads walking unnoticed
On bodies mostly outlawed

III
I love the taste of Accra
Where landlords are Gods of destinies
House-lords are gods of wages
Kiosk-lords are gods of bodies
Street lords are gods of lives
And selves are sorries hovering from maybes to will-of-God

IV
I love the zeal of tricksters of Accra
Whose suits speak truths that its bodies pest into falsehoods
Fingers act faster than minds
Tongues mesmerize better than wines
And whose trustworthiness beats that of priests chairing confessions

V
I love the state of Accra
Where bigger fishes reach smallest holes for even the slightest delicacies
While smaller ones struggle in the biggest space for their trash
Don’t I love that bigger birds rest
On tired wings of the smaller
Just to fly higher?
Oh I love that guinea fowls rule domestic ones
In feathers of eagles
Served all there is at home and sleeping in their Burkinas
To be safe from ambush

V
This is Accra
Where your dreams sit in your head
As your poor feet struggle to stay soreless
Your bright eyes need your hands to see right
As your fair mind blame your heart for a preposterous push
This is Accra
Filled to the brim with wholes of desperation
Stifling aspirations in utter damnation
This is Accra, city of all you can and can’t be
This, this, this is Accra
Close your ears to sounds of hunger from weak mouths
Shut your eyes from street beings of boards with countable bones
You might be them in time’s time
If eaters find you not or vice versa
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © July 2, 2018

IN THE END

All are folding
Folding into touches of feelings
Eyes will see but won’t know
Ears will hear but can’t translate
Minds will sit, only calling on feelings
To search
To seek and tell
In the end

II
A crow may turn vulture in spirit
An eagle may look the part of a hen
A bark may be a mew
Only living thing which would stay true to self;
The chameleon

III
A wise head will ask for definitions
And not define
A wise tongue will shut its teeth gates
Until bills find their feet in law
And not kick only to turn future monster of rights
A wise nose should sniff no tell-tales
To keep fingers from rising
The end of everything makes and unmakes heroes
Feelings will definitely rule
In the end
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 23, 2018

FATHERS WORTH CELEBRATING

A good farmer tills his land and digs out stumps before planting
He is sure to protect the planted
Until germination
After germination, he sees to irrigate
Makes sure the sunlight and air are all apt for the farm
He wards off weeds
And fertilizes to ensure smooth growth
Pesticides are provided to make sure the farm yields its best
To feed communities in nations in the planet
A good father is like a good farmer
And by all means needs to be celebrated
For their sweat and callouses
Care and tendering
Happy Fathers’ Day to all good fathers!!!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 17, 2018

GULPING SQUEEZEOHOLICS

Meet me there
There
At the blue kiosk right by the street of Nyansakrom
For sips of sympathies which sink unfairness in oceans of insanities

II
Meet me there
There
To fathom with the power of kabi kyerɛ w’ase
Why thoughts of society seem more complex than man
Man who is their sole author

III
Meet me there
There, at the blue kiosk wearing socks of dust
To dig beneath bottles of dead egos
For hidden fears
Which drive needs in vehicular materialism
Causing accidents of victimization through overtaking and wrong turns

In a nation of love

IV
Meet me there
There, in that small blue kiosk pregnant with power
To change our walking styles to suit societal morsels
Fit for a night
To change perceptions from serious to comic
Won’t it break some of these chains of pleasing insanities?

V
If we meet there
Bring your calabash of failure for breaking punishment
After all following the crowd to sip on calabashes of dirt gives life
Come let us wash our uprightness
And wear new clothes of skepticism
Funny how thoughts can make one drunk
Before blue kiosk’s power
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 14, 2018

PUT ME TOGETHER

Your talented fingers
Can make wholesome my figure
From arms to thighs
Neck to knees
Vein to vein
Help, help put me together

II
All the feelings of yesteryears
Bottled and dusty
All the failings of months past
Suffocating and harming
All the brighter routes
Missed in blindness
All the calling stars in the clouds
Unheard and unseen
Help, help put me together

III
Put me together
As potters make their wares
Piece me together
Like carpenters build their roofs
Fill me to fullness
As a rare painter paints to shock
Strings on guitars only need fingers to sound
This scattered me is an eyesore to itself
Making beauty unattractive in its mirrors
So help, do help, please help
Help put me together
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 2018

THE PRICE OF BREATH

In this myth we live
No matter who conceived
All that we believe
Is the magic of breath

II
It lights the eyes
So let them look
It opens the ears
So let them listen
It opens your mouth
So let it say
All that it needs to say

III
It powers the heart
So let it beat
It fixes your stomach
So let it work
It strengthens your hands
So let them work
It powers your legs so let them move
To everywhere they need to be

IV
It opens the mind
So let it think
It channels the nose
So let it smell
It awakens the skin
So let it feel
All that it needs to feel
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 12, 2018

A NEED TO HAVE

Fireflies glow to charm the night
Darkness always playing their best partner
From the intruding moon right down to its stars
Charmed eyes only see targets
Relegating others into nonexistence
I am the one you need to have
Not one you have to need

II
Hearts speak even in separation
Minds bond even in absentia
Syncing heartbeats need no lighters of resistance
Matching thoughts need no hoes of pessimism
A need to have is a must have
I am the one you need to have
Not one you have to need

III
Fetch a well for a thirsty soul
And a balm for an aching sore
Fetch food for a thundering stomach
And a seat for the weary feet
A need to have is a must have
I am the one you need to have
Not one you have to need

IV
Laced fingers on a dancing moon
Sparked smiles scintillating in digging swoons
A merger in a larger one
Dissolving each into the other
Send your thoughts on these thinking journeys
To know I am the one you need to have
Not one you have to need
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 8, 2018

WHEN THE LAW CHASES

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

II
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!

III
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
Few sympathisers
Oh let’s see the bright side
No fecal matter sits in caught bellies
When the law chases

IV
Shame for honour
Rags for respect
Hate for love
Kin for stranger
Friends turn enemies
Crushes start crashing
When the law chases

V
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

HIDDEN SCARS (Crazy Stanzas)

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

II
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

III
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

THROUGH THIS WINDOW

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

II
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

III
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?

IV
It breaks this heart to see the colour of her clothes
Smeared in violence
In hopelessness
In crime
In death
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 HUMAN COOKS (Celebrating Mothers)

The starting point of every race
Births successes
The rising point of the sun
Births light
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?

II
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?

III
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?

IV
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

ELECTRIFYING TOUCHES

If structures could turn see-throughs
In these cold powered days
Many would find what stands true
In this raining May

II
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

III
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

DAY WAKES

Now the day is awake
The sky is serving light
All that hands will take
Will base on a heart so bright

II
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

III
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

THE WEED THEN KILLER

It slowly rose like smoke
Making eyes teary and red
Baking minds like loaves for their feed
Then became the weed of love
Making many kowtow with their all
Presenting their successes and their falls
It has now graduated to opium and cocaine combined
Building addicts out of thinkers

II
High on this drug-like serve
Many a reigns face ruins
High on this troubled flaw
Many a coffers cry emptiness
High on this monstrous flaw
Many a leg cry on knees
High on this bitter flaw
Many a mind sit in dozing

III
Catch your miracle
Shed your pride
Catch your travel
Be no patriot
Catch your breakthrough
Jump like a fool
Catch fertility
Crawl on your knees
Grab your loved one
Drain your blood
Get your fame
Just be the donkey
Catch your wealth
Be a cushion
Slay your enemy
Just pay a fine
If only the metaphor of ridiculousness
Were models on stages in the eyes of men
And fashion on minds of women
This mind will have no need
To paint this worship as the deviant congregant
In this hounding church
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 29, 2018

DRESS NOT THE EARTH IN YOUR MESS

Imagine your feet on no solid ground
Your ears, no tree in sound
Imagine your shelter in a hanging
And life without farming
Now follow the reasoning

II
Dress not the earth in your mess
Even if you are a pig thinking it a sty
For you live in the borrowed
And should leave it unsoiled
Oh be a thinker!

III
Rob not the earth in your greed
Even if, like an ingrate, you forget your feet’s support
The body’s bones are its pillars
The earth’s minerals are its support
Oh be a lover!

IV
Create no murderous monsters in your revenge
Even if your mortality promises an unshaken immortality
For the future belongs not to your ghosts
And the present, like a realm, is shared
So be decorous!

VI
Feed no waters with your rear phlegm
For if any pickaxe can dig throats
And pluck hearts in a hurry
It definitely wears the heels of thirst
Oh be a carer!

V
The earth is our hand that feeds
Our cup that quenches our thirst
Our medicine in our sicknesses
Our wools to clothe
Our place of rest
Our bind to leave behind
So dress not the earth in your mess
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 21, 2018

UNDER THESE SHEETS

Just as socks are made for feet
Hats are made for heads
This night, my apparel is beadly
My walk, a gracious call in passion’s voice
For our touches will be sparkly
Under these sheets

II
Clear your eyes
For every step will be a language
Every shake pointing to treasures hidden beneath pores
Clear your ears
Because every sound will be a code
Codes only your concentration can decode

III
From complains to blames
Requests to stories
Differences to references
Let’s all banish
To sure the cure of needs that seek to feed
Under these sheets

IV
Prepare to sight to track
Touch to spark
Massage to mark
Embrace to embark
On journeys beyond the moon
This night, under these sheets
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April, 21, 2018

Photo Credit: Google pics

SHEs IN TROUSERS

Culture is like a cloth
Washed for its stains only to develop other taints
Time has travelled to see it merged like “nsaasaawa”
Making living confusing in acceptables
Making flaws contorting in reprimands
Time has washed the myths of trousers
Now shes freely live therein

II
Days which picked females like banku
And dipped them into okro sauces of men
To be swallowed and defecated at want
Days which built shadows in men for shes to live in
Soundlessly
At best putting on clothes of unsung heroines
Have almost parked their vehicles

III
Since minds in fem-lands were explored
And platinums down to bronze were discovered
Since strength from soul stood on stages of hardship
From the spirit of motherhood
Since light and darkness confessed their fears in talents of lasses
Many have broken free
From tails of stale digging pleasure for leisure
Bragging rights to treasure
Gifting shame without measure
So who coughed “gyantraness” for all shes in this golden coast?

IV
Lucy Quist to Patience Akyianu
Maidie Arkutu to Wear Ghana’s Agyemang
From Justice Theodora Wood to Naana Opoku Agyemang
Dr. Ama Ata Aidoo to Dr. Mrs. Nana
Ama Pokua Arthur
And all the numerous women in the power trousers of forcefulness
Live in this realm where Obaa Yaa Asantewaa led men to war in colonial times
So who spat the gross spittle of prostitution in adultererhood
On all the fine brains with clothes of decency of this land?

V
Tell me not that patriarchy paved this thought of insult
For real decency was a thread
Don’t tell tales of the weakness of a society
For many a lass live on their pockets
Don’t tell me that an existence of an anomaly
Is right to call for shame for real vectors
Common sense speaks in the sentence “Choose your words carefully”
But what even happened to the moral of the proverb
“Wash not thy dirty linen in public”?
Do you know the fecal matter in that of mockers?

VI
It is a sad day
When a woman definitely feels the pain of childbirth
From the nonsense that walked through the mouth
Of a nine moon traveller schooled to go wrong
A thought stamped non entity without a pounding hole
Bagging all including her travelled womb
In a gutter sack of naughts
Selling us out in a print on minds of some ignoramuses
Whose brains will forever keep our tag
In annoying reminders
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2018

THROUGH THIS STORM

Here I am
A hair on this blessed earth
With weak roots
Being played by winds like a piece of kite in the sky
And watched by eyes as to how far I can go

II
Here I am
In a fearful storm
Blinded by the dust of pain
Shamed by the clouds of need
Pelted with thunders of directions
To several places at once
With far eyes watching for how far I can go

III
Here I am
A naught in a sought
A caught for a bought
All by life’s strong hands in a tight hold
Suffocation calling for my termination
Jeers of antagonists strengthening my yearning for survival
But the spirit keeps blowing my womb
Making my body ask how far I can go

IV
Unexplainable are these tides
Torturous are the continuous waves
Whatever ropes tie me hither
I pray it holds for I need to see the end of this road
For all to see how far I can go
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © April 13, 2018