If passion’s flicker did take liquor
And whispered these many trials

That hang on every life’s tree

To flower into fruition

To be plucked or pecked, fall or rot

Only to reach a cut, break or an uproot

Many swim fighters might have failed in competition



Yet a real excitement

Like curiosity, hanging it’s neck

In the window of my unformed heart

Might have still pushed me here

Into the belly of this earth

Where many paths lead to the same dark spot

But transient hearts battle in disharmony

Using their mortality as spears, guns, machetes and cancerous words

Only to stand possessed with fear

When their last bells call

What is man in this crooked spot of living?


Man is a mind of secrecy

Ailing or jubilating for the past

Scheming in the present

Without knowing the future

Man is like a programmed robot

Whose lifespan is known to its creator

But hidden from him

Yet he plans every minute as if he is in charge of him

Man is like a blind god’s house

To be used and discarded in a time and place

Yet man lives like God 

With thoughts of who to lead and impress

Even when living plays itself in a sleep world

Oh! Fading dusts battling hardened rocks!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 20, 2018


I live

With the body of a lioness

But walk

At the pace of a snail

The earth; a cruel boiling

The air; a slapping heat

On this road, are monstrous feet

And on the sky’s face, is an annoying grin

Even the dark seems dangerous

As legs with no intent join targeting ones in my hunt

When did you say is your time for me?


I hope your time is not in oblivion

Where moths lay claim on what needs recycling

I hope your time is not in full age

Where old age sprinkles wrinkles on my fallen skin

As joints pull down its locomotive powers with pain

I hope your fires under this very pot

Die not at the total evaporation of its working waters

Your intent have written endorsements

But you know how fast hearts you created move 

When need chases

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 18, 2018

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa)  Chapter 28 (18+)

“If you cut the head of a snake, all that is left is a rope.” I know that was the proverb playing on the minds of Tayo and his cronies. What he did not know was the fact that this snake’s venom was full in every part of its body. I arranged pillows to look like a human in a dimly lit room, hid in the closet in wait with a locally acquired gun given by Manki. Poncho was under the bed while Nacho hid in the bathroom. They had placed ten of their men around the hotel and ten on the way to my room.  The wait was boring and we even started to doubt the authenticity of the whistle blower. At fourteen minutes to two at dawn, we heard light footsteps with slight creaking of opening doors.

Three people entered my hotel room, then we heard gunshots in my hall. The team there were in a shoot out waking many in the hotel. Poncho fired from beneath, Nacho from the bathroom and I, from the closet. We each got them but Nacho’s missed and shot his shoulders. The assassin started shooting anyhow so I had to dock. Nacho, courageously jumped from beneath the bed, hit the wrist of his hand which was holding the gun and engaged in a man to man fight with him. The light was switched on only to see the assassin dressed in an all black tights, including a woollen facial mask. Poncho and Nacho handcuffed and unmasked him and saw a very unfamiliar face. They called out to those placed in the hall and realized we had lost one of our men but all the men in black tights were dead. They were eight in number. We quickly moved through our windows to another hotel which was booked the previous evening.

Manki came to visit early the next morning. He was shocked that we were alive making me think he was part of the conspiracy. We had kept the one alive in my new hotel room, gagged with Poncho as his torturer. He would still not open his mouth but we were not done with him. Tayo also interestingly called me. I received the call with all courtesy demanded of a business friend and gave no clue as to what we had gone through the night before. His voice was unmistakably shaking throughout the conversation but I feigned ignorance to perfection. After booking all the flights,  we went back to my room to help torture the intruder. I ordered a finger to be chopped off at every failure to answer my question. After losing two fingers, he spoke out, telling us about the man who contracted them. In fact, he was the boss who was contracted and was at his wits end because all his people had been killed. He pleaded to be killed too but I would have none of it. The man who paid for the contract happened to be Tayo’s friend. I called Manki after clearing my doubts and gave him my instructions about the assassin who said he was called Mpa. I proposed a recruit and followed through with it even though all my crew were against it. There was something about him I found loyal although he croaked under intense pressure. We fixed him up real well, his fingers and all, and let him go after he promised to follow us to Mexico. I had Tayo brought in for few slaps and wounds which promised to be deep scars and warned him to play with his equals next time. He left with his tail in between his thighs.

We took off five days after our clash with the assassins. Mpa and almost all the girls showed up but three, leaving us with four hundred and ten girls. I left the three for Manki to deal with but asked that he acted gently as some may have had genuine reasons for bailing out. As it turned out, one found out she was pregnant, another could not leave her ailing grandmother and the other died the night before in a street shoot out. It was a safe flight and the girls were comfortable in the dormitories Alejandro prepared for them. Our orientation was beautiful as the girls willingly dressed up for the theory and their first test jobs.

I was a bit beside myself with anxiety after I saw Consuelo. Thoughts of her difference, change of eye colour, body size and speech sounds made me feel like she was a different person but people around me felt she was one and the same person. Fearing they might think few of my screws were loose up there, I shut up and kept my many questions to myself. 

Alejandro visited a week after our orientation. The look in his eyes had changed. He looked at me with a softer touch. Funny, I did not mind at all. “Miss Davids, my surprise is your success. A book’s internal writing colour can be different from its exterior. Si.” After saying that, things became odd between us with neither of us speaking for a minute or two. 

“Miss, I came to check something around this place and decided to check on you. Be careful with everything and everyone and be sure to be alert at all times. Meanwhile, I will need  thirty girls to go and model shoes in Milan next week.” His fluency in the English Language always baffled me.

He fidgeted while talking, making me sense there was something fishy about the modelling bit. It would have been alright if he had said “to escort some high profiled people, but to model when they had not been trained to model bothered me. He might have realized so added “I will bring a trainer to help them get ready for the run way.” I knew something smart was being played on me but didn’t know what. Yet I took consolation in his words to be alert at all times. 

The week saw me seeing to it that selected girls were trained for modelling of shoes. The “ko ko ko” and “ka ka ka” were better than the sneakers which were almost like lullabies. The shoes that were presented were brand new and very catchy but the models who were chosen had long, beautiful and sexy legs, bodies and faces, talk less of smiles accentuated with perfect set of snow-like teeth. So in wearing the shoes, though catchy, the legs, bodies, in fact, their whole physiques caught more attention. They were given special clothes to wear with the excuse that they are models and should look as such, even their bags were sponsored, including hair accessories. I got the surprise of my life when my ticket was added. I was to be their supervisor. A part of me was glad of the Italy visit, a part was just restless, feeling there was something awfully wrong associated. 

We went through checks with no problems at the airport. The flight, including food on the plane was beautiful and cool. A beautiful blue black Limousine picked us up at the airport and sent us to our hotels. Although the girls were excited, they were nearly as tired as I was. I mean proper tiredness as they took on five to six men each night and six to seven during the day. On my part, I supervised all the CCTV cameras in their various dormitories to be sure I was privy to all that was happening to them, of course, without their knowledge. I also took charge in pairing men with them. I was grateful the payment plan of our customers had nothing to do with me but everything to do with Alejandro. Still, from petty thefts to sex based injuries, chaotic misunderstandings caused by language barriers to attitudinally sour men, there was never a dull day until the travel. I won’t even mention meetings upon meetings. Will you believe me when I say I completely forgot about sex? It was that intense so I slept like a log at our Hilton Hotel in Milan.

I woke to a scare, a very frightful scare. One of the girls was seizing and according to the other girls, had been seizing for over an hour. I made to call the reception for an ambulance but one of the girls restrained me. She took me to the bathroom and showed me something. A white powdery substance which she believed was the cause of Nthambi’s seizure. She believed they were in the shoes and the girl found them out and abused them. I asked her to get all the shoes of the girls for me without their knowledge. We searched through, even to a point of destroying some but nothing was found. I thought deeply about the whole trouble and decided on what to do next. Cunning were my thoughts, fierce were my emotions.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 16, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics


Varied colours of bees, birds and flowers

Will dance under Cupid’s showers

With soaps of gifts in parcels of hearts

Many in heels on tiles of public stages

In fantasies of crumbling perfect sheets

In the arms of secrecy

Others in sneakers of dignity 

On woolen carpeted back staged floors

Hoping their hearts’ arrows 

Will meticulously pierce and stick into hearts in foreverness

Yet some will wait in anticipation for naught

From hearts of insensitive dust cans

Who know how to eat in bowls of love

 Not how to prepare its meals nor do its dishes

What of those to be robbed in cages of manipulations

By Cupid’s unfortunate curses?

Oh there are those whose tarred tongues of lies

Will spark vehicles of deceit into chaotic accidents

Seeing to death of their couplings

Yet still some will hide in blankets of loneliness

Hoping with tears of need

For a future of fantasy

Where Cupid’s touch will bless

It is a farm of perfected imperfections

Cultivated from a garden of loving hate

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 14, 2018

Photo Credit: Google pics


Flow with the snow and alienate your rain

Giggle in shivers of winter and act coy with thy harmattan

Mate summer and pretend its sun is all you’ve seen

You melaninos pretending to be dark albinos

In strange strange spheres

You are they who hold erasers of the past

Cleaning  footsteps as they go

You are they who join moves of foreign rhythms

Pretending Adowa, Agbadza, Kpanlogo and the lively others

Are sickly tunes from lands of alien apes

Soldier on, you eagles acting in butterfly tights

Model on, you frozen blocks wearing clothes of snows

Run on, you who abhor pictures of your past

Just know frogs stretch in their death

Showing their real heights

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 11, 2018


This morning tastes sour
Making the sun frown at its bitter luck

In throats are melodies which water sores of heartbreaks

A blooming voice has muted 

Pressed by deaths wicked fingers

How I wish death’s father lived in the physical

For her soul to date in his hate

The sensuous figure that worked so well

Driving many into an obsessive hell, fell

At the dawn of her rise

And tears are seas in loving hearts

Regrets are pools in hateful hearts

All the poison whose venom never got its fill

The sponsor whose money gave dilemma for a moral so misconstrued

Look Mother Nature! What death, your son, has done!

One who reigns has been sucked in his drains

I know the unheard melodies ringing through strange lands

Begging for a way back to life’s shores

I know the “hotness” that finds itself in a mythical realm

I know the grievances of an unfilled pot

Broken after a graceful bake

But you were a melody in your short visit

A sweet sweet melody with a perfect pen of words to boost

Writing your name in the history of the greatest our time will know

Sleep well little one

If the world gives other chances yonder

By all means come and complete your mission

Until then, damarifa due!

Due due ne amanehunu!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 9, 2018 For Ebony Reigns.

Photo Credit: Google Pics


A flower of smiles

In a hand so warm

A massaging sun waving from miles

In a sky of no harm

Greets your morning from the land of my mind


The land of my mind

In which I farm happiness in weeds of strife

Throwing stumps and thorns into dungeons of past’s behind

Carving a great team to play the team of life

So create a smile without a sigh


A smile with no sigh

Even if clouds blanket the waving sun

Knowing transiency is its bothersome hi

And impotency carves its tempt like fun

In a garden of your sweet scented presence

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 8, 2018


I can see a time standing far up on a future top
With a sea-like feet sweeping this shop

Acting like a white elephant cop

Watching as beings intensely flop 

And animals, their tamed rights hop


There, I saw a wolf publicly loving a being

All fangs and claws in daylight are seen

All giggles of rights hailed fairly by the green

As ancestors time look in nauseating mean


Even dogs walked on twos

Giggling with beings in “me and yous”

And those who stumbled into public loos

Ended up seeing all furs on and in skin


What of horses who sat to date

Their past bosses in a lucky fate?

In their bitter and litter state

Their curses loudly fly in debates


I watch as fishes fight for their rights

To swim in air and get their share

Of the pleasures which humans share

To the creatures whose meat now act skins

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 7, 2018


A knot needs fingers to be

Just as groups need a head for sanity

As the earth looks upon the sky

And the sky cries and shines upon the earth in fertility

So must the relations between a leader and the led

The leader built by positive sides of great animals


A leader must be a lion in serving

Fierce for roles none wants to take on

With paws for tackling its challenges

Be it shame or difficulties

A leader must be a peacock

Proud of piecing diverse heads into one

And stitching different hearts into rhythmic heartbeats

A leader must be a hen


Always home or around the home of the office

Bringing all broken wings, tired legs, hurt chicks

Under its wings

Always watching out for the hawk of division

And working to have a pecking fight even if its strength is in the low

A leader must be a cat

Always ready to listen

Mostly holding its tongue

Mostly blinking away gossips

Which wild dogs peddle

Only using the guarding trait of dogs for the good of all

A leader must be an ant

Wise in troubled waters

Looking for leaves when his army is faced with a drowning

Always honourable even in a chastisement

A leader must be a goat

Stubborn with risks

Accepting defeats with grace

And cheering wins with motivation

A leader must be a sheep

Obedient and approachable

To all no matter the emotions of approachers

A leader must be a dove

Looked upon like a star by her led

Pure in their hardworking sights

Setting examples where equations seem difficult

A leader must be as presentable as an antelope

Even in a forest of thorns

Observant like a brown snake under a brown lawn

A leader must be a horse

Never tired to trot

Even when sharp rocks stare meanly with knives to battle

A leader must a nightingale

Whose voice mellows the fury of even a dragon spewing hell fire

A leader must be a vulture

Always picking up the dead pieces no matter how they stink

A leader must be an eagle

Whose wings never tire from flight

And strength is enough to always light teams

With eyes like that of a potent seer

Seeing the future before it happens

A leader must be the biggest tree in the desert

Always ready to house all in branches and under its skirt

A leader must be fierce like a David

Even when a Goliath chases

A leader is the donkey whose back never breaks

And the horse whose chariot is his to pull

Even through thunders and storms

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 30, 2017


Baby mine

Do not, for the attention of these storms pay a dime

Life in suns and rains rhyme

So let’s let these storms, their time chime

You beautiful sun of mine


You were picked from the world of passion

With wishes of building for you a happy nation

Breaking backs to give you a perfect station

But life’s travel shows no future action

Hence my sorry reaction


I wish your ails had a walking bell

I would have sheltered you like a shell

And taken its guns regardless of its pain’s spell

Even if it meant arrest of my soul in death’s cell

But its talkless sneakers teamed with my unaware gel

So you innocent soul in running fell


Even as these storms roar

As our needs soar

In many an eye’s tour

And many a mansion holds no door

For our weary feet to talk less of a floor

Our sethood changes not even if Satans in conventions abhor

So fight even in this poor


I will always you cheer

Even if tears blind in my fear

I will always your guns share

Even if ammunitions of injections and medications cost in queer

I will always stay here

Where your fists blow death’s steer

Hoping and praying for a win, my dear

But if this breaks your gear

Know you will forever be engraved here

In this heart and always be near

For this journey is of us

You and I 

And our God whose existence shakes my mythical confusions

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Feb. 2, 2017


I see the hollow hole

At all sides

How even this air turned mole

And the earth dug all my sides

Makes me feel like one who stole

From Satan’s slides


The mouth of defeat sings piercingly

Being cheered on by the drums of fear

The laughter of failure resonates across the dept of doom

If only I can see a ray of cheer

From a sky of sympathy

If only I can feel a stray air

Blowing in smile from these unfriendly breezes

If only I could get wings of a fowl to hang in mid air

To find an outer space

If only…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 30, 2018


On this dead branch

Carried by water, I thread

Each step, a shocking surprise

Interlaced with fear

But like a blessed cat with nine lives

The soul carries this body in moving on


My only cocoon is you

This poem, where my bed of peace is laid

My only home is you

This poem, where my cool waters pamper for a swim

My only shade is you

This poem, which arrests the murderous sun

And serves a breathing seat amidst all the dying

My only shelter is you

This poem, in the midst of perilous snakes

Which hide in trousers of life to defile my happiness

My only saviour is you

This poem, which baptizes to cleanse my soul

From the daily dirty stones pelted by life’s criminal side

My only hope is you

This poem, you, a perfect diary keeping my mind in

In you


I am so far from home

Carrying a load which directs my path

Directing dusty even when tarred roads beg for a drive

Yet I live in you, this poem

You who promise to take me back

Back to the perfect place I belong

That perfect place, where moths can’t pimp me

For the pleasure of the earth

Masking my life into a walking ghostship

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 29, 2018


A star that annoyingly glitters

With just a 26 alphabetical order

One whose words are like blows

One whose words are like lightning

Striking bad clouds and digging goosebumps

One whose words can draw beauty in minds

One who has arrived in many towns of the nation

And continues to charm

That may be the words on your mind

But what about those you don’t see?


A skeletal build

With veins of neglect

Blood of stress and thirst

Meat of hate and pure hunger

Skin of punches of cold in a harmattan visit 

And bowl of heat in sunny days

Nails which have tasted the hammer of many quarries

Eyes which have joined the run against death

Legs which have collapsed and been whipped by need to a wake

Why do I see them so well?


In every glitter lies a story

A story that can reflexively call for your sorry

And may even unchain your worry

To get on your sympathy lorry

So clap not in jealousy

Bite no tongue in a revenge challenge

Think of the worry within the glitter

And applaud its shine

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan 27, 2018


If I had listened to maame

I won’t be stuck in the middle of this road of life

Carrying a burden that my shoulder breaks

One that has taken over my sanes

Farming bloody rains around my once starred eyes


She did tell me not all that glitters are metalsmithable

And adviced I cleaned, bit into, burned

To verify authenticity before singing the Hallelujah of worship

No matter the wings and shine of my find

Did I listen?


The sun preyed on my fancy

And connived with all the garbage in shinning stones

Winking in blinking into my sinking

So I picked what was not

Thinking it was what was

Now I stink so bad

On a heavenly road whose scent mask me out


How can youth so blind

Making this head turn behind 

Even when legs pull?

How can age not be shed

Like skins which outlive their time

To fetch rightness in the past?

How can perfection so wrinkle

In time’s deadly exploration

In giving surprised heart attacks?

How can remorse not be a magician

To right all wrong in all that is strong?

How could I have been deaf to youthful exuberance

Letting maame’s voice go

With the deadly winds of the past?


If I had

If only I had

If only I had listened to maame

If only I had honoured the words of my vehicular womb

Earth would certainly have been kinder

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 26, 2018


If my tomorrow never comes

And my end’s vehicle lands

Will I, like a legless eagle with broken wings, soldier across

To my ancestral land with a smile

Or throw tantrums and be dragged there like a prisoner?


If my tomorrow never comes

What will I be on tongues of others?

A chewing gum whose sweetness would be sucked in few seconds

And spat out after I reach earth’s mouth?

Or bile, which would for sometime stay 

In tongues of some unfortunates?


If my tomorrow never comes

Would a kind heart take my crippled chick

And hen it despite its current hopelessness

Would it be fed like it needs to?

Given warmth as it needs to?

Tended to as it always needs to

Even when hungry hawks chase?


If my tomorrow never comes

Whose intestines would thunder in pain?

Whose eyes would swim in a bloody sea?

Whose mind would be stirred by a ladle of sadness?

Mouth would call for an explanation train from the quarters of God?


If my tomorrow never comes

I wonder the teeth that would open its shop of happiness

The spirits that would pick up my soul in gladness

My deeds that would sum up my fate in the court of death

Above all the hearts that would break into million pieces

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 25, 2018


There is a summer hut

On the roof of the moon

Which all prying eyes cut

Waiting for us to swoon

So do those problems shut


We need our hands threaded in symphony

Our feet running in a perfect dance

To tickling sounds of harmony

Our eyes writing our thoughts in each other at any chance

Making our tongue’s pools our sweet and ever tasteful honey


Let our laughter rise from our souls

To massage our feet

And strengthen our soles

As happy songs follow through our street

Through our glowing hollow holes


Oh gracious holes, where jumpy songs metamorphose into cool

Only to our fluttery hearts soothe

Who cares if we merge into a fool

With a heartbeat oh so smooth

As long as we end as each’s perfect loving stool?


After tickling ourselves silly

Like magical eagles, let’s fly to moon’s roof

You in me and I in you, even better in the chilly

As we each laugh at our many a goof

Climbing through the hardened even through the hilly

You are after all the angel of all my hidden goosebumps!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 20, 2018


Worms wriggle

Dogs bark

Cats mew

So be careful of birthed promises

When his pants are down


I know of flowers who have lived on clouds

With plucked stars and moons

Bedding in chariots of all their fantasies

Dancing to the tune of Cupid’s best

Only to fall as rains

Into a hell of fire whose ashes flew

With airs of regrets

Into deserted forests of disappointments

So careful of dishes of promises

When his pants are down


They build believable mansions with words

For their tongues are the pencils of architects 

Whose sheets need crumpling sizzles

And tails need your wet wiggle

In their burning passion

Whose lifespan is as short as the shine of fireworks in the sky

So oh beware

Of the sound of holes of deceit

When his pants are down

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 19, 2018


Sitting in the past with the wrinkled

As my time’s stars stood in the greenest twinkle

I heard of eyes, potent in closure

Even in most secluded holes

Seeing hectic moles who fates stole

In the near tomorrow

The near tomorrow which garnishes my feet today

Yet I laughed like a wise soul hearing the voice of the foolish


Running in the past with the “cruel”

A cane spoke of love with corrective scars

In gift of a future with no blemishes

Maame nodded and applauded her brother

Papa got another to join in

All eyes sparkled 

Hands clapped

I felt like a Jesus never welcomed in his own home

The present now looks at the past with glee

Gifting its long gone hands unmeaningful late handshakes 


I dined with the past whose children had ears

Soft ears

The past whose children had no mouths 

In elderly presence

I dined with the past where young ones vanished

Like myths in elderly visitations

And did feed respect on plates of good upbringing

Nana would cry in happenings of today

Watching through spectacles of ancestorhood

Glad I have no lenses to see his countenance


I wonder where all the magic canes of path direction went?

I marvel at the hard ears with sharp mouths

Which toddlers clutch as blessings

I wonder how words put together to protect

Handcuff wills to correct

I wonder

I do wonder how far this belly’s fruit would go with its generation

In madness of rights

What I see in closed eyes of the future

Hell fire so heatedly hazy

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 17, 2018


In this cave of pain

Where insanity is in rain

Planting needless disdain

Like that felt by Cane

Be the light in my train


You know thoughts which sit in the main

Driving me insane

Oh God of my brain!

Break these haunting chain

Which my good waters drain

Can’t you see I am in pain?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 14, 2018


At this crossroads

Where good leads to bad

And bad leads to good

Stands the whip of fear

At all ends


At this crossroads

Righteousness begets pain

While cruelty begets peace

Yet conscience acts judge

With a gavel of suffering


The lioness in me battles the sheep I am

The tears in me drowns the heart I have

Weakened nerves promise electrocution

Of wits and sanes and love and suns

Yet this crossroads have no pointers


Is there an ultimate judge

For an afterlife trial in a life’s dilemma?

Is there a hell fire for a righteous crime?

Is there a punishment for a sin of love?

Life’s rhetorics butcher like a savage, at these crossroads

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 12, 2018


In the wake of this breaking

Where the world lives a touch away

There is no need for a shaking

Of wits and hurts and hate to stray

For the world goes round and round


Today the best sit in an earthquake of disagreement

Tomorrow a small island

Might hold the reigns of power

Riding a great fallen like a horse

In a rough road of gravels,  broken glasses and piercy metals

So there is no need to dig out supremacy

On plates of subduing many

In a championship hunt


Oh what beauty will show

If all fingers of nations hold! 

Oh what beauty will show

If genuine hands of nations extend to each other

In a festival of diplomacy

Oh what love will bind

If unbeneficial power’s throat is slit

In a farming of togetherness

We are what we choose to be

In what we choose to do

In this global village

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)  Dec.  5, 2018


There is an insect town

On this beautiful living lawn

But all passersby see

Is the beautiful grass and its fee

Yet night planes their insecti-flight

And day takes them from sight

It is like sweat in a fluffy wool

Or vampire ants in a crown stool


What is seen may not be

Once roots are brought to be washed on the head of a plain sea

In the ground many bites abound

On land much pretense surrounds

Even though our hearts know in capital letters

We wear our hypocritical matters

Acting in dancing even when we’re being bitten like sweat in a fluffy wool

Or vampire ants in a crown stool


My teeth line up

Even when my voice shuts up

When I see eyes turn red

In a covetousness hidden in singing and begging to be heard

What can a hiding ant say

In a convention of hunting lizards on a pay?

Human bodies is mostly like sweat in a fluffy wool

Or vampire ants in a crown stool

Shinning royalty, feeling pains

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Jan. 4, 2018


I saw your birth

And I feel your dying heartbeat

You are a babe who came with the birth of many ambitions

And like all babies, you had your needy conditions


The footsteps of time has seen many changes

From many ranges

Plucking down hopes like ripe oranges

And hanging hopes like fake bells on Christmas trees

Yet our needs pile in readiness

To travel with another you


It might be greed to our prides and egos feed

It might be seeds to our ambitions and targets lead

It might be fire woods to our dreams and aspirations 

Turn ashes in the passing winds

Yet our eyes stand open

Like a needy church in a sin zone

Waiting to embrace another in your wake


The tears of thanksgiving

The promises of stoogehood in indefatigable working for your new born replacement

In churches and clubs and houses and streets

Will let you know about human loyalty

But take heart in your death

Knowing you were like this new born

Whose fate tallies yours

Taking time to brush your vampire teeth

Which chewed many in the happiness of others

And clouded to rain on eyes of many

Whose curses justify the happiness at your cruel wake

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec 31, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics


I am like a peacock
Feathery in coloured beauty

All eyes see is the pride that hides my painful ride

All mouths rap are rumours in parcelled fancy

About my stretches which naught fetches for their eyes

Most ears love the sound of my wrong in the spit of a tongue

None sees the scar beneath the feathers

Funny, they watch from a blurred distance


I am like a goat

My fur milking my sweat dry

Confusing my audience

Even when life hits in thundering strikes

They confuse my jump of pain and shake for sanes 

For stubbornness

Claiming disobedience when I walk on live coals

For things of my interest

None cares to know about the scar which drives my need


I have a scar 

Which has bought for me an expensive and durable insomnia

A seed freezing stiffly, shaking painfully

In jerks of spittles and fecals

In the town of sleep

Caring not about time

Caring not about place

Caring not about an occasion

Always fighting with swords to light its wounds

Why can’t they see?


Why can’t they see the tears which drives my fears

In a dark tainted expensive limousine of no salvation?

Why can’t they hear

The heart which stops to beat and beats to wail

In a heavy wall of loneliness situated amidst the taunting chaos?

Why can’t they see my fall on the bridge of success?

Could it be they are too low to see?

Why do heavy boots kick my name

Into gutters of shame

A shame they are hunting for keeps?


I wish they see what drives their greed

So they can be freed from their shackles of inner and outer battles

For in this rattles of horror

I am trying

Trying hard to hold my own

Mending my scar the best I can

Even in its taste for swords of woundy rekindling

But then again

Why is this dramatic mind confusing few for all

Buying sorrows in my precious vault 

With currencies of over thinking?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 30, 2017


(Merry Christmas to all! Have the best of the season)

We wake with will of a win

Cling to the song of Christ’s birth

Flinging all that carries burdens in a bin

His birth signifies sin’s death

Oh Hallelujah, the king is born!


We whistle with warmth wherever

Knowing our lows will never flow with the ending 

Of the river of the year, never ever

And every broken soul will be mending

Oh Hallelujah! The king is born!


We work our wrestling within

With hope of eloping any pending traps

Which seeks to wear us out thin

In the hands of the leading as maps

Oh Hallelujah! The king is born!


With or without

Let feuding hands shake

In or out

Let all pain break

Slim or stout

Let pride and egos inflated, roads of healing take

For oh Hallelujah! Christ the king is born!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©Dec. 25, 2017


Many minds have different layers of thoughts

Superstition leading their mental institutions

Abena, I believe in human fallibilities

We are mostly like stubborn goats

Pushing to the very places whose whips

Still lick their mouths

From the burst skin they plucked from our bodies



Some drivers have turned fishes in alcoholic seas

Driving like swimming in a shark hounding

As passengers hold their seats like cowards

Hoping their hold saves from any incident


There are those who think to be late is to be LATE

Flying in the guise of driving

Some love challenging fishes in seas

Pretending their skins have fins 

Going places marked in danger

Some indulge in bacchanalian orgies

Their noses turned noticed rat holes

Lighted into smoke-hood

Their minds heated by hard drugs

Their egos inflated by alcohol

Their daring enhanced by reckless madness

Why won’t accidents and deaths be attracted?


Those who visit temples

And temples who accept congregants without scrutiny

Dweebaadweebaa is not written on foreheads

Neither are its neighbours of infestations

Know you are an egg

Whose shells can’t tempt death by falling on its hard grounds

Know you are a glass

Who can’t play pilolo with death

Know you are mortal and a very breakable doll

As happiness beckons on this festive season

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 24, 2017


When the crowers of today turn peckers at dawn

Feasting on feeds of hens and chicks

While time walks without turning back

Their future in saucepans of history will be painful

As the only spices on their bodies would be pepper of frustration

Ginger of hurts

Salt of under development

Tears of penury

And cubes of curses

Let earful cocks clean their ears

As they stand on pedestals of high repute

In their youthful dawn

And heed to the call of change

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 22, 2017.


Let, let your kindness walk

In sneakers on these slippery tiles of need

Let, let your kindness walk

In knighthood in this festival to feed

Let, let your kindness walk

Like Santas who give to goodness lead

Let, let your love walk the talk of giving


There are bodies living in nakedness

Walking in paupering madness

There are stomachs of roaringness

Living in pain of weakness

There are hearts sitting in loneliness

Hoping for a smile of humaneness

There are hearts living on bitterness

Hoping for acts of kindness

So let, let your love walk the talk of love

To please the celebrant above

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 22, 2017


Eno Bowaa, Akusua Duku, Ama Afarewaa eeei!

Kofi Amoabeng, Opare Kusi, Agya Obuo eeei!

When the sun travels east in settlement each day

My thanksgiving becomes as tall as fading shadows

For your smiling teeth which held daggers in the dark

And worked on a battle with my back


Is it fair?

Is it fair that you pair my kindness with a cross

Meant for thousand Judases?

Is it fair?

Is it fair that you greet my right palm with your dirty feet

After feeding you in your haunting seat?

Is it fair?

Is it fair?

Is it fair that you plant a lion in my hen coop

When my eggs feed our town?

What philosophical madness holds spirits so vile

That its possession makes you drunk in hatred?


Eno ne Agyanom

I have landed on my buttocks at your feet

Kick with your feet or your sticks

Send your spittle to rain on my honour

Shoot your words like poisonous arrows 

To pierce the heart of my sanity

Blast any hope walking to my rescue with bombs of your falsehood

Otwereduampong is not a blind seer

Asaase Yaa is not a conniving mermaid who can cast a spell

To make you immortal

So use a gutter broom to sweep my importance

Life is but a clone of faults

Bouncing on walls of Karma

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 18, 2017


You know the spine of every palm frond

Holds it firmly 

Even in the slaps and blows of the wind

You know a seed holds the future of its fruit

You know divinations of norms

Twist paths of stories

I am on this drive which the winds of life turn

Abrempong mu Obrempong

Lead my drive!


In a vehicle where I am a passenger in a bit

A mate in a bit

A driver in a bit to be turned into a passenger again

Only to get off at your appointed station

I need you to perfect my seed

I need you to fix its all

I need you to hold it into independence

So I don’t turn the alighted not so delighted

Anyame mu Onyame

Lead my drive!


This road is filled with claws and pores

Yet my tyres have no where else to thread

Every puncture fills the fun of fickles

Every stop digs the greed of pushers

Every break oils the need of the unscrupulous

Every empty tank calls for even thirsty gallons

So Odomankomah!

Odi Asaase yi so ahenkan!

Judah mu gyata!

Please lead my drive!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 17, 2017


These eyes still have their seals

Primitive living

Oblivious of a world on wheels

A cup for mouths and animals

Like Abels in a Jesus world

They live laughing in loving misery


I have seen anuses feeding their soil

At the full glare of many

As flies chorus the pushing

I have seen the flies following and dining with hands

Blessed with brains

I have seen a going and a coming 

With nothing to show

Tired muscles screaming through showing veins

At the injustice done them

There must be blessing in ignorance!


They give with no knowledge of benefits

They chant with no knowledge of duties

They thumb with no knowledge of implications

This must be the dream of politricks!


You beautiful hearts in an unfortunate place!

Arrested by need!

Punched by greed!

Entrenched in the past!

Intoxicated by ignorance!

How I wish modern literacy were a spell

Under my helpless grasp!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 12, 2017


Many a steps are forced by need

Many a man’s need suffereth from greed

One’s seen need is another’s goldmine

I am that hen

Looking for the feet of the mythical hawk

Stepping on the wellbeing of my chick


All many eyes see

Is the flower with different colours

Standing tall in the wind

Blown here and there

And still stands unshaken in the calm

But if pillows could talk

They will tell secret tales of hurdles

Which suck sleep from the honey bed

I am that hen

Who has escaped many a cruel machete

From the hands of greedy celebrants

Using the helplessness of my hen

In the abattoir of healers


I have danced naked on many a hopeful ground

Shown my weaknesses which grows with days

Paid have-nots with money of my blood

Fed on biles of failure and disappointment

And felt my intestines beg a tear closure

I am that hen

Whose soft end sits in its innocent chick

Imprisoned in the cage of a disorder

One that brings me silly orders


But I go on

Jumping from here to there

Hoping a good wind will send me THERE

THERE, where redemption sits in the mass of deceit

To free mine from the shells of life’s unfortunacy

I am that hen

Hopeful with every new day

No matter the deadly punches of their previous

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 10, 2017

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 15

​It takes steady legs and a determined heart to climb the ladder of success. Since the world felt powerful associating with already made personalities, each day served me a plate of zeal to change my life for the better. Aunt Aba bought back my fabrics at a good price and I decided to work less to allow me space to learn for my basic exams. Two days to the first paper, I felt some fear pangs in my abdomen. Ntwanu visited when he could and brought me things he thought I would need.

Shai called me to come to the Glory of God Church and just ended the call around mid morning. I got worried about her frightened tone. Between my books and new family, I felt like I was walking on needles. I just put on a shirt and mini skirt and headed to the place in my car. Dido, my new bodyguard, followed in another car. Upon reaching the church, I saw Shai draped in some white calico (stained in blood) from head to toe and tied to a pole in the middle of the church. As members of the church closed their eyes in loud prayers and clapping, the man of God was pouring some kind of water on Shai. His disciples were hitting her with canes and she looked really beaten with marks and swelling on her face. 

I wanted to understand what was happening so asked out loud:

“What’s happening here? Why are you abusing someone’s daughter like this?”

The pastor took a bell and shook it and the whole church became quiet, then spoke:

“Let there be quiet! There is another sinner in our midst. Even her clothes show she is working as a devil of the night too. I told you getting one will bring another, didn’t I? The Lord never lies! Great Mazuka!”

“Mazuka is king!” thundered the church.

Before I could say “hey”, I was in the grips of his disciples with calico being used to cover my body. I was sent to another pole, tied and the ritual began. Whipping and torturing words:

“ Pray for the demons of lust to get out of this person. Shoot the devil of prostitution from them, be sure to throw the catapult of stones on the demons possessing these two and finally, shoot them with the Holy Spirit in prayers. Now start.”

I was shocked at the pain supposed men of God could inflict on their fellow beings but could not think straight because of the loud voices with the added claps and the strong scented water. One woman had the voice of a loud guinea fowl.

“Yehowa you are Yarweh! Show your mercy to these sinners and let them be free from demons of prostitution! As I clap, trap the evil spirits within them and make them flee. I throw the catapult of Mazuka on these demons, I bind them with the rope of the All Seeing, I shoot them with the gun of Almighty and I bomb them with the fire of the Holy Spirit. Yiri maputu! Yiri uzani, yiri nara, ibei adula.”

The woman, tall, huge, bleached and rewarded with the colours, orange, red and green kept clapping and repeating same words for over thirty minutes. I felt somewhat scared anytime she ended with the strange words. It was as if she was chanting. I didn’t know what was keeping Dido but it sure made me feel unsettled. Just when I was about to ask them what we could do to be free, the men barged into the church premises, Ntwanu leading. Those I knew and those I did not know. They numbered about 30 wielding bats and sticks with few holding guns. 

Ntwanu fired a warning shot and I was surprised to see the pastor kneeling and shivering like a leaf. The church scattered as all church members kept running helter skelter. Some calling on God, others calling on Great Mazuka! While some of Ntwanu’s men untied me, I watched as he dealt the pastor some slaps. I had never seen him so fierce and angry and in action. I saw a different side of him. One disciple urinated on himself after watching his leader slapped over and over again. The pastor was fat with a huge stomach, dressed in a red robe in a barefooted mode with eyes almost popping out.

After disciplining them for two minutes, I realized the others handcuffed the leader and his disciples. Ntwanu and Dido took us home. I didn’t say anything on our way home although I wanted to know what was going to happen to the handcuffed. Ntwanu was worried about my silence but I was concerned about the new Ntwanu I saw. Ruthless and cruel! When we reached home, the family doctor was waiting. He attended to our wounds and gave Shai some injections with some infusions. I sat by her bed and watched over her, my wounds barely visible and relevant to me. I had failed the girl I swore to protect and I felt so bad. Mimi had travelled with a client and Shai was in charge of our underground business. How she ended up tied and tortured by a supposed church was besides me. 

“Baby girl, aren’t you going to talk to me? I am dying of sadness seeing how you are trying to avoid me.”

Ntwanu’s voice took me by surprise. I thought he had left. 

“I am not avoiding you, I am just in shock. The ordeal was a bit shocking” I partially lied through my teeth. 

“I know there is something more. I hope you know I will never hurt you? I love you so much baby girl. I will give my life if need be, to make you happy”.

I hugged him at that point and saw him off with a French kiss that I did not put my heart into. 

Shai woke up a little after midnight and narrated her story.

“All the girls had been booked so when the order came in for 2000 cedis for an hour, I decided to go myself. Upon reaching there, I was ushered into the church. I thought it was the fantasy of the man to have sex in the church so I stripped and started making advances towards him. I kissed him and after enjoying for a while he started calling Great Mazuka. Some people came, caught and attacked me. It was in the morning they asked that i spoke to my mother to come and see my salvation”

I asked myself what a church was. Why it believed in casting our demons of sins. Why that particular one ordered a prostitution agency to send a representative only for them to pounce on her. I just didn’t understand the kind of salvation they as individuals wanted to give and the kind of thoughts they had been brainwashed to have. Questions about them kept running through my mind. How do they perceive God? How do they walk around without fearing their shadows. (Because clearly, sin is part of our daily struggles.) How do they live? Do they ever live with some form of happiness when they can’t stand their little sins? In a world where a sin today is the win tomorrow, how do they accept the change? I knew prostitution will always be bad but isn’t it part of our lives? Even men use their sexuality in exchange 

Well, I had examination just lurking around the corner so fed Shai, tucked her in, made sure she was sleeping and put her phone by her side, then went to my room to study. Life’s battles have stubbornness embedded in their hearts but they surely are the center of living. I swore never to lose out and to live fully, loving and protecting loved ones.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 2017.

Photo Credit: Google Pics


The fallen is like an egg

You kick with an intent of destruction

Variety in lacking, is perfection of His creation

So let your feet be kind


Consider the legless and help the hopping

Consider the struggling and help the ill

Consider the suffering and bless the helpless

Please let your feet be kind to look

So as not kick the fallen


Let your feet be kind

For there is no shaking grounds

Let your feet be kind

A down today can be an up tomorrow

Let your feet be kind

Tomorrow’s history is today’s mystery

Let your feet be kind 

On this slippery earth

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © December 6, 2017


You have cut the ribbon of shyness

From our very eyes

All contours leading to remorse

Have been made comfortable

From the slippery slope it was


Because sins grow into norms with time

And you are the programmer of the dramatic brain

Which engines us


I wonder if you peep through the anus of discos and clubs

To see sins dance in varied sneakers and heels

I wonder if you see through the “drosses” and “trousers” of fornicators

To see pestles in pleasurable laughter

And mortars in needful beckoning

I so wonder, if your eyes reach

The joints of high points in smokinghood

To know how deep nostrils reach

To fetch the line of smoke from lungs

Oh! Do you follow their steps into darkness through to your temples?

Are you regretting our creation?


I know you know the machetes

Which cause some hands to sin

You do know the poisons which will cause some minds to scheme

You do know the words which will make some vocals turn villains

Yet, you sit and watch as many perish

On the eve of your worship

How delighted are you watching the path to your glorification?

Disrespectful me!

How dare I? How dare I taunt you on the grounds of my sins?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 25, 2017

​WHEN DAYLIGHT SLEEPS (Adult Poetry, 18+)

When daylight sleeps

Prepare your foot to heed to the call of my beads

For surely

You must dance in my wet ground

Whose rains began at the first tear of dawn


Mow your lawn

And clean your gun

Load it to perfection

There sure must be a fat game of pleasure

At the end of the hunt

Yes, a dance in a hunt


Be sure to borrow the air of freshness

Around your red towel

Which will be on my plate as one toffee

Whose sweetness never fades

Of course I will add that to the lollipop

So be sure to prepare your all in pleasing scenting


Actions for passions

Reactions for hyping

Matching for matching

Hanging for hanging

The eyes of our darkness have a lot to expect

In our unholy confines

And so must yours

When daylight sleeps

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 24, 2017

Photo Credit: Google Pics


When chains police beings

In hollow caves of innocence

At the audience of  culprits

Who like sheep giggle with eyes of a lionesses

Fate sits on a slate of unfairness!


Sounds of feet with rifles!

Sounds of breaths with struggles!

Sounds of deaths which plant fear

Watered by self mourning!

Sounds of freedom of the lucky

Fertilised by covetousness!

Fate, why sit on a slate of unfairness?


You are a king of your domain

You are the captain of your ship on a sea of life!

Why can’t you navigate truth from mouths of lies

Into ears of justice?

Why can’t you order conscience to sun bathe

In the full glare of the populace

To cut loose the shackles of victimization?

Why can’t you defend the poor defenceless

In your fearful court?

Why can’t you?

Why can’t you?

Why sit on a slate of unfairness planing the credibility of great personalities

And painting them with guilt

At the full glare of unforgettable eyes?

Ah! Why sit on an unfair slate? Oh fate!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 23, 2017 


Let the hen dance in the midst of hawks
To the appeal of the vast sky

Its bones would never fail to lie naked

Before their beaks

So sometimes, it’s best to do nothing

Let the snail run as fast as the rabbit of its fantasy

In the angry survival of the hippopotamus

It sure would taste feet to its death

And lose itself in a mud coffin

If rains seek asylum from the sky

There and then

Sometimes, it’s best to do nothing

A mad hungry dog hears no excuse

Of a sick cock

Neither does a vulture know an impoverished corpse

Sometimes actions wake threats and hurts

So I dare say

It is sometimes best, to do nothing

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 20, 2017


Many a pain holds no stamp on bodies

Many a pain stems from sight and hearing

Many a pain give no pleasure gain

So place no insensitivity on this anger

This anger you feel towards you


Every pain in your being plants my insanity

Every stain on your life

My very frustration

Watching death drag and taunt

Dangling your being like a thing

In dreams of a grave

Is no pleasure trip

So pardon if my temperamental trips


No heart that loves feels no perplexity

At the hurt of a target

There is a reason the hen shields its chicks

At the sound of a hawk

Love binds in happiness and sorrow

So even at your low, do know

This hard looking me feels every fibre in your body

And its unpleasant vibes

Just like an electrocution burning the wires of its veins

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 20, 2017


Chant me into dispossession

Ye who held my navel

And crossed to the shores of earth

As my voodoo watched your fragile steps

With no evil stone cast

Chant me into dispossession

Ye who fed through the clays of my pot

In the dirty dust you now so abhor

Deliver me from the spirit of my ancestors

And baptize into the ways of alienation

But remember this eraser might leave no trace

When your uniqueness calls tunes of your intrusion

Chant me into dispossession

Ye who was healed by the leaves of this land

When the heels of death chased your infancy like a hyena

Weed all the fetishes and cast out your blackness

Into a bleach of civilization

I am sorry to have been the curse which birthed your existence

Chant me into dispossession

For I see the me in you screaming at the lashes of your rejection

And the hurt of your hate eroding the very soil that did you plant

I am only sad that plants can’t do without their roots

Still, chant me into dispossession

Chant me into dispossession

I am a filthy animal with a crude tail

You are as white as the dark with a soul as black as snow

So chant me

Do chant me child!

Chant me!

Chant me into your suitable possession!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 18, 2017

Ashawo Diaries (Tales of Adwoa Attaa) Chapter 10


I have seen many a moon

Wrestling suns as I acted their baboon

I have craved for many a dark cocoon

But here I watch the sun and swoon

As it sings “didn’t I tell you it will be soon?”

Yes you did, and it is not even my life’s noon”
Ms. Barwuah was not only impressed after reading my poem, she was happy for me. Obviously love was written all over me. If anyone had told me I would find love in a wicked looking, tall and well muscled black as ebony man, I would have sworn on my life it would never happen. But there I was, with butterflies and bubbles playing tickles in my stomach just at the thought of Ntwanu. He called more than three times everyday. Saw me at least in every two days.  I thought of marrying him, having multiple children and living happily ever after until Mimi asked me to wake from my fantasies. 

Mimi had never liked my association with the trio who were cultists and armed robbers with the worst and most fearful gang in Kumasi, according to rumours.

“No matter how much you love him, know you have no future with that armed robber. The earlier you start working, the better for you. No matter how much you have in your account now, sitting at home and daydreaming about an advanced thief and cold blooded murderer will deplete your account. A word is enough for the wise”

As much as I hated Mimi for pointing out the obvious, as much as I failed to apologize for the slap I gave her for stating the only thing I did not want to acknowledge, I had to agree with her after thinking deeply about it. There is no great future for children between prostitutes and robbers. I knew I did not want that life for any child of mine. So I decided to go to work a week and two days after my lovely holidays with Ntwanu. I felt bad considering his pleas for me to stop prostitution. He even asked me to marry him but I politely declined and promised to think about it in future. I was sixteen and had seen too much to make any hasty decisions. What I felt for Ntwanu scared me but I was not ready to let go. 

I called Guru to tell him about my plans and told him not to tell Ntwanu. We thrashed our differences. He was angry that I had exchanged him for Ntwanu but told me he begged him to let him come into my life. His problem was that I accepted. We settled on he still protecting me as we maintained a civil relationship. So I went to work. 

My client for that evening was a depressed man. He looked like he wanted to cry. I sat opposite him in his huge hall and tried to cheer him up. 

“I have been in serious problems for sometime now but the sky is clearing. I may not know what you are going through but do pull yourself together. Your friends contracted me to be with you for a reason”

“I don’t want anything. Just leave” was his only answer.

I did not leave. I went to his kitchen, boiled some water, poured it into a bucket and with my additional towel, called him authoritatively to the bed. He was taken by utter surprise. I massaged him roughly, then gently. After the water went cold, I used his shea butter to smear him from his bald pate to his soles and gently massaged him with my fingers. When I got to his crotch, I gave it a proper palm to skin massage, he came without intending to and felt very shy. I laughed it off, kissed his crotch and proceeded to sit on it when it woke up again. All the while, I continued to massage him as I rode him like a needy horse.

By the time I was through with him, he had warmed up to me.

“They all died in an accident. They all died!”

He broke down. This time, I listened without any form of interruptions. 

“I was always busy with work acquiring all these things. My wife complained but I did not mind her. I did not do anything she wanted. All she wanted was time with me. Quality time. She also wanted me to enhance my penis a little but I did not mind her. I learnt my lesson when I met her with our neighbour’s twenty four year old son in bed. I felt small. I felt little. A powerful man like me felt like an ant. I left home for a while to think things through, came back four days later to find a letter on the centre table.”

He paused to cry for a while. 

“The gateman told me they had left few minutes before I came in. The letter asked for a divorce and a fair child support for our three children. She was never a materialistic woman. Barely ten minutes had passed when I got a call that they had been involved in an accident. When I reached the scene, they had all died. Grinded into paste in a blood mess by an articulator truck on the Tema Highway. I don’t know how I have been living since then. It’s been two years! Two whole years young lady.”

I understood his pain then. How do you comfort a 54 year old man who had lost his entire family in a ghastly motor accident on the ticket of marital problems which stirred from wife neglect? I went to stand behind him and massaged him from shoulders down. All the while singing:

“When peace like a river

Attended my way

When sorrows like seas billows roll

Whatever my Lord

You have taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul”

His tears subsided so I sat beside him. He coiled himself like a short millipede and laid his head on my laps. I left when he fell asleep because his friends had paid me beforehand.

The next morning, he called to thank me and invited me to lunch. He took me out and bought me a car. A brand new saloon Toyota Camry. I tried to decline but he would not take no for an answer. He said I gave him back his life. I gave him hope for tomorrow. I gave him the needed peace, I woke him from the sleep of living dead. That night I slept like a baby, feeling glad that I could, through prostitution touch a life in the positive. Of course, everyday is a unique day and comes with its varied surprises.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 2017.

Photo Credit: Google Pics


When the same breast nurses many mouths 
From stomachs of greed and or promises

Milk evaporates and calls for the blood of the mother

Showcasing paleness of her body

Awo Yaa!

May this portion of yours change for the better!


This building which has seen the palms of many masons

And still suffers from foundational weakness

Due to stolen cement

Unbought stones

Unpurchased water

Which are all buried in the belly of pockets

Housing blood of the land

Is to be pitied

Awo Yaa!

May this portion of yours change for the better!


This vehicle whose driver and mate

Dwell on the monies of passengers

But do no servicing

Even as it creaks in painful destruction by the day

Rebelling here in concerns

There in embarrassment

Needs a different story

Before it breaks what it protects

Awo Yaa!

May this portion of yours change for the better!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 16, 2017


Videos keep playing

Where you shyly, with roses

In sweat, called Holy Moses 

In proposing


How a perfect vehicle

Zoomed into a thorny bush

And saw itself in an empty desert

Has opened my sky of tears


The video of you playing horse

In the shore of peace

Me, playing sheep

In the shores of settlement

Begs to be born

But alas! Time’s driver refuses to reverse


From electrifying kisses

To enemy hisses

Touching Blisses

To sad misses

Painful disses

Which threw in the hard pisses

I wish it all did rhyme


Where the road is long

And pair needs to share

Do come back

I sure will be the smile

Which will go the mile

And the knot which will end the flow of chaos


These sheets have placed me

And the phantom you in a court of blame

It so does me shame

And I wish you could see

Do come back if lateness is not the arms of another

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 16, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics


Dust for powdered pepper

Or powdered pepper for dust?

Which blows now with the air of Mugabe

In the Zim Nation?

I see chicken to hawk, hawk to eagle

In a devilish transition


Destruction sure needs some action

From any faction with an apt reaction

But the leg of time shortens celebration

And or “frownation”

For already made shoes of fame

No matter how tattered presents a choice of ease

Deleting zeal and placing seals on power

Sometimes in the worst forms

Oh careful!

You might be running from a worm to a cobra!


Political eyes are pious only in opposition

Greed stamps most signatures in the highest seats in all lands

Great tongues of sages are caged by enmity

We are in an act of jubilation

Probably from the land of the Pharisees 

Hoping to get to Israel without thoughts of hardships

Reckless risks rip ripe ribs

Throwing chances into hide and seek gutters

Let ears with wise holes sip the wisdom from this scribe

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©November 15, 2017


Since age knocked its understanding tag

In my infantile brain

I was given a telescope

Whose only visions were of the past

A telescope which killed the zeal of laughter

Planting in its stead a vile rage for revenge

Watered by society’s hails at my target

And its many chains of laws for my kind


Like a bull with a target

I charged at a decade and eight

Towards a fine breed of its demigods

Pouring all the gold of my ancestry at his feet

And disrespectfully asking that he worked his waist

Into my pleasure into my treasure

At my leisure


His teeth showed a blessed awakening

And like a goat, he held my coat of cloth

The dark little hut which stood in the compound of many

Promised me no privacy

The bed’s posture whispered a higher creaking

A pound and another and another and another

My resolution, no tears, no show of pain

Until he lost his all and started to call to be saved

I envisaged his shame!


An hour and a half

My energy grazed out

My field had turned muddy

My little opening had been manholed

His screams for my well being pushed the listeners in

What they saw brought in society’s law

Burying me in the shoes of my wronged ancestry

With the antonym of a gigolo

Planting trees always loses to waterers, I guess

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © November 14, 2017

Photo Credit: Google pics.


Day has broken from the clutches of darkness

Aiding eyes, like a pathfinder

To see all in clarity

If breath stands at post

And health is on wealth’s coast

I say “anyame mu Nyame”

Nhyira nka wo din!


I can see hens leading their chicks

And cocks looking for stocks

Through the warning of wings

The insults of crows

Through the biting of beaks

And the uprooting of feathers

Through a run and a chase

Life sure says a lot about onlookers

“Ɔsoro soro Nyame, nhyira nka wo din!”


Let minds in mine know the miracles of thinking

Let hands in mine know the blessing in working

Let tongues in mine know the worth of silence

Let legs in mine know the advantages of walking

And let all stomachs in mine

Know the importance of selectiveness

Life is life because strive is rife

“Omintinmirim Nyame, nhyira nka wo din”

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 13th Nov. 2017

(To all non speakers of Akan, the quoted versions mean “thanks be to God”)