Ao! She has told me blankly

I went to bath my hair

But I ended up staining my ears

Abena, I have heard it all now


She says I have a hole like her

And I need a digger, lest it fills up with dirt

She said she has been studying me like a cat

And has seen no digger’s feet in my compound

So she shyly barks my beauty as she tells me my duties

Abena I have heard it all now


Maybe she wants me to be like her

With a digger still digging her bottomless pit

And digging all her siblings and visitors

While starving her nourishing edibles

And making her fend for the golden dirt he digs out of her

Abena, I have heard it all now


What makes many trashy mouths bold?

Do I look like one dirt is to be sold?

One look at her and I needed not be told

That she languishes in painful ignorant-minded cold

And needs a great mind to hold

Or she will never find her prideful gold

Abena, I am struck into disbelief, my mouth peg-folded

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015



We are like varied but same flowers
Pretty in different shapes, colours and sizes
We are like flowing rivers
Bubbly and dense but burning by rocks beneath
We are like opposing reflections
Speaking in weird deflections
Making dumb demi gods weak
While stabbing ourselves with our double edged daggers
Yes, we are that twisted

I remember when I was with Pee
He asked if I wanted the dress I was staring at
I said no when my head had worn it
And the mirrors of my mind’s eyes
Had caused me to applaud
Although I could afford
I wanted it as a gift from him to worship
So I kept mute making him feel like a child in the wrong for nothing
We parted with tension being our paths
Of course he knew not
That my kind and I are that twisted

Of course I know you are no magicians
But I wanted Kwasi to hold me tight
As I struggled to be freed
And kiss me in style

Saying sweet nothings of assurance

While stroking my hair in play
But he left when I said no
Knowing not that my kind and I
Are so twisted

Akweley told me of her date with Duodo
He had asked if she wanted a party for her birthday
She said she had said no
Hoping he would give her a surprise

Featuring her family and frriends
Too bad, he had no clue
That most flowers are twisted

Maame told me about Kwame
He had wanted to take her to his parents
She had said no
And needed command
Showing he was serious like the knight in shinning armour
But he had said okay
Incurring her wrath
Poor dude
He didn’t know
That we are so twisted

Wendy wanted her friends jealous
Obviously wanting Ofosu to kiss her in their midst

Giving open declarations of their love

To make them know she had her catch
But he felt the pangs of shame
When he touched her and she shouted her no
Poor him, he did not know the formula
That we are twisted in wiring

We are twisted
Tight fisted in clarity
We are damaged
Loving commandments in Lovity
We are dogs who bark
Mostly with no intentions to bite
We are water, always needing our cups
We are special beings
Who know not our own formulas
We are lionesses mostly needing tamers
We are what we’ve always been in denial
We are oh, what is the word?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


We are like hens

Hens are the pens

Which write lives

Hens pave way for cock men

To help write lives

So I tell mothers:

You are the lands

Which keep the well

You are the hands which feed all mouths

You are heavenly gateways

For blessings untold

You are the pores of heavens

Which help the earth with rain

The earth blesses you

And the Almighty who sees will bless you more


Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



They are miracles
Miracles who suffer to give
Giving the world miracles
Too bad many don’t see

They are miracles
Miracles whose love are unchallengeable
Loving unconditionally
Too bad many don’t see

If there were to be a fee
For every second a being stays in
I am sure that work will be more lucrative
As death holds its stick in accompaniment
Too bad many don’t see

They are like mad people
Insanity being their loving traits
Never disgusted by all disgustings
Always there when need be
Too bad many don’t see

They can shout hey!
And still open their arms
Can cry oh!
And still hold all hands
Too bad many don’t see

They are suns
They are moons
They host stars which makes them superstars
They are seas
They are breezes
They keep hope, when hope travels forever
They are everything
Everything that is worth  something
They are mothers
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 201is



It is the cook

Whose blame is booked

When the taste goes bad

Like a stinking spoilt fish

So women! Do cook the lads so right!


You worship your creation

Into demi god-ship

When they seek for worship

From your future yous

As you’ve always worshipped in tears

Book your blame

For you are the cook

Who spoilt your brook


I will always grind thoughts of gender

Empowering weaknesses

In both like thunder

I will always call for decorum

And burn demi godships

Before their seats land

Into heads of the strong


If only the cooks

Will follow suit

The world’s bad vocabularies

Will exclude “disrespect for women”

We breed, we can free

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(I believe men are our creation and so we can bring boys up to treat girls fairly in their future. I believe we can also empower girls to be self sufficient to gain respect from their opposites. I believe disrespect for women started with women and must end by women waking up to quench those, hence this poem.)


images (1)

You are not to blame

Go on and shame

The sheep who offered

Its centre of gravity

To hoard a trash whose sounds are so harsh

Is the one who needs a mourning


You are not to blame

Just go on and shame

Since you have no centre of gravity

Open you trash and foul your environment

I say, the one who wasted nine moons

To bring out a sheep bull

Is the one who needs a mourning


Trashes sound trashes

Because trash is what they are

Trashes dance to trashes

Because trash arena is where they stay

A trash dressed in humanity

Is still a living trash

And by its words and deeds

We get to know they are trashes

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Flowers in colours
What are you blooming to show?
Attraction to your nectar?
By droppings of scents?
“Dib dib dib, dibi dibi di haa
Dib dib dib, dibi dibi di haa”


Flowers with paints
What are you painting to show?
Erasing of age routes?
Concealment of colour?
“ka ka ka, Kai Kai Kai ki kaa
Ka ka ka, Kai Kai Kai ki kaa”


Flowers with pen hands
What are you writing to show?
That you are spirits to be worshipped?
gods to be bowed to?
“wu wu wu, wui wui wui wiii waa
wu wu wu, wui wui wui wii waa”


Flowers of bowing
Why are you bowing like slaves?
To stand in shadows?
Be kowtowed in finger bands?
“ah ah ah, aha aha ahaaaa
ah ah ah, aha aha ahaa”


Flowers of sadness
What are you sorrowing to show?
Pain of some tramplings?
Shame of some hurtings?
“co co co, cor cor cor cor’d
co co co, cor cor cor cor’d”


Nectars stay in
Pulling with scents
Drippings eventually empties their barrels
Those paints are inks
Washable by rain
Painting drains
And cost a ton
Pens are mighties
To be used fairly to shine
To spiritize is horror
For its gods are ruthless
Bowing is for God or gods
Shadows are for once livers
Getting one’s shadow
To push another, writes well, writes well
Sadness needs an outlet
An outlet of saintly revenge
To hush the hurters
And rain blood in their hearts
So “pu pu push, pu pu push for betters
Pu pu pu, pu pu push for betters”
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


The widow
Has shut hurt windows
Which need opening in love
Where accusations are rolled into bouncing balls
Thrown and blocked into its little tiny holes
It turns into a bomb
Which blasts to ashes
What little will there is

Please, have compassion
At least, have a heart
Like a mirror on the wall,
She stands
Showing you the future of your beloveds
Take the opportunity and learn
To attract the support for your future generation
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


eggHa ha, hehehehe, hmmm

“Akosua is a ‘kosua’
A ‘kosua’ which needs a holder
A holder with veins feared by the earth
But she fears palms”


Oh elders like shelvers!
Elders with clippers!
Elders with machete tongues!
‘Odomankoma Ahunu Abobirim’ is a generous God
So generous as to make Akosua legs, hands, a head and brain
Why will she act like an egg wasting those?

I say this to you;
Eggs do break
Sometimes with a little shake
Some do bake
Some are fried
And they are eaten, forgotten, and another sought

She is a queen
Needed to be respected by a king
Not a thing to be eaten
Nor a thing to nurse to birth
Only to be reared and killed

So don’t shelve her
Take away her cages
And concentrate on the tickings of your clocks

Maybe empowerment will make her;
Your legs, when they wobble
Your hands, when they struggle
Your eyes, when they blur
Putting stomach sustainables where they need to be

So Akosua is a queen
Akosua is strong
Akosua is not a thing
From the anus or with an anus of a delicacy!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



My blood boils like water on fire!
Who steals from a sacred temple
That once gave him sleeping space?
Must be an it!

Who acts evil
Grazing holes that hid him from his enemies
When they chased his formation?
It must be an it

Who embarrasses a goddess
Whose tears turn into rains of curses?
It must definitely be an it!

Who shows a gate that looks
Like one he came from in his vulnerableness?
Must be an IT!

Rain of curses
Come down in forces
I join your horses
To chase these causes
Keep them in loses
As pain be their bosses
Taunt their pulses
And make them end in their worst!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c)2015

This poem is dedicated to all who have seffered rape and have had their nakedness shared in public to tarnish their images. I say this, any man born of a woman who will be that callous to disrespect a woman is cursed and will forever be cursed. My prayers are with all who have suffered. I feel your tears. I feel your pain, I share in your embarrassment. So whenever you walk, be proud and know you did nothing, feel no shame because you are not to blame. The Lord God knows those who did so wrong. And those sharing those pictures, please, in the name of whatever you hold dear, stop sharing the pictures from the Takoradi gang rape saga. Have and show some decency!


When the hands of night embrace
As sounds tell of mosquito hunts
And beds cry for their weight
And rains fall on benevolent roofs
Loneliness sit close to this bedside
Marking time in loud tickings

Then thoughts become restless
Walking on the mind of this old maid
Whose society deem useless because it has no shade
No shade to tame its light
Causing poor eyes to stay vigil

Who are the shades?
Are they trees to get all the sun?
Then what do I do when I need vitamin D?
Who needs a shade in nightfall?
How can they call humans cold roasted plantain
Forcing minds to see time as an ‘alikito’ wheel?
If only the Gye Nyame symbol had magical powers to tame thoughts!

Now I see the writing on the wall
Societal teachings do call
When night whispers its presence
And sends heads onto pillows
I just wish these pacing thoughts will lie
So these poor eyes can close
For its showers to wash them clean
But black hearts born onto golden lands
Make it impossible
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



She left her smiling alter

Knowing not she was going in for a slaughter

Oh why is she being pounded in a mortar?

Somebody’s precious daughter!


I hear she had the greatest court

Knowing not those days were for her to be bought

Now she sits in thorns smiling but hot

Can’t say what problems lie in her cot


She was revered for the pampering

Loved particularly the attentive tenderings

Spoke of all great the great embracings

And how her heart’s wheels were always racing


She got all her needs

And needed not any feeds

All that was great were his deeds

And all her instructions she said he heeds


After the alter, she fed his cot

He told her his “winning her heart deeds” all left his pot

He said the pot had no hope in dot

And that they must live in each one’s lot


Pampering turned to shouting

Buying turned to complaining

Listening turned to nagging

His pleasantness turned to hurting


Oh a precious daughter!

Why are you in a pounding mortar

Hurting and earning many a suffer?

Living like a starved-in-ove pauper

It isn’t proper, oh somebody’s daughter!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015



Who are the flowers

Wearing their thorns

Calling for fairness

Hitting and biting admirers hard?


Who are the roses

Burning opposite noses

Claiming they’re bosses

And hitting hard in doses?


Listen to a fellow say;

Every rudeness has a pay

You’re not superior in any way

You fight for fairness

Then be fair

You fight to be a pair

Act perfect pair

Your pride goes with an ego

An ego needing stroking

So for your needs to be met

You need to be a proper set


Even roses with thorns

Can never fight boots

A little trampling turns them to goods

Goods which only coffins hoard

So be on the respectful board

And attract fairness

Roses are nothing without its audience

We aim for freedom,

So do all other hearts

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(This poem is for all those women who think themselves superior to men. Be yourself, love yourself, fight for respect with hard work and good deeds but never think of disrespecting men, they too are humans, humans we deliver and so must cherish)



In this era

When there is a war of gender

Which seeks for us to surrender

Who are those calling for cheap smiles to be rendered

To climb societal ladders?



Who is acting like a chameleon?

Changing spots in gender reflections

And using ambitious temples as cheap brothels

For gains?

This is insane!



If we are things to sell

We’ll need no hands

We’ll need no mouths,

We’ll need no hearts, similar to the sellers

If we are things to sell,

We’ll feel no pain

No one could feel our disdain



Riches in hand

Ostriches in conscience

Please stop this mess

Or use your own temples!

And let beings untainted,

Roses in bloom,

Live right

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Weak? No! Never!

Flowers from Ghana are never weak

And I’ll tell you why


Long ago, while warriors were killed

And the king was caught

And what bravers  there were hid,

Yaa Asantewaa stood tall

And she was a flower from Ghana


Even those who raised their hands

And flagged gender opposites as lords,

Mostly birthed, farmed, domestically worked

More than the lords,

Could those flowers be weak?


Beijing helped

As shadows brought their beings

Into the spotlight

Pursuing the freedom fight

But let me not hear you say

We are weak flowers,

We are bold flowers

Flowers capable of all

If only all subduction will die off

In minds of our wilting flowers

We can fly like planes

Even in bad weather


Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



We are fire

And your desire

You make us tire

Pushing us into situations dire

Yet we are still the fire

Which goodness require

A few pushed may desire

To burn some blues

But we’re still the fire

Which breeds warmth in this empire


Know we are the world

Know, we build the world






Positively wicked enough to brace the pain of birth;

Imagine being fried like a naughty tilapia,

That is the pain of building a world

Yet we thrive

We survive or are survived

We arrange the blocks and pamper them to boast

We are,

We really are

We really really are

Beauties physically and in abstraction

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(Happy Women’s Day!)



You sit and watch,

The hands which has a fenced mouth

Through which your disrespectful sermons walk out with ease,

Touch and caress your sacred temple

As its legs kneel in the tightly closed doors of “mock to” ears

And you do nothing?

Shoot him! Shoot that freaking son from a rabies dog!



You think he, oh, pardon my manners, it, is fine?

What good is an attractive bottle

When it holds poison as it smiles?

Believe me, there is no greater danger

Than attractive frames holding horrid contents

So I repeat, shoot him!

Shoot that one who has made its gateway hole a sorry gutter!



Each of its touch

Spells insults, and holds knives

Which dig into the insults

Wishing to pull your heart out of your bones.

It won’t end there; another will step into your shoes

When you taste the tasteless fate of the hungry pythoness death

And it gets worse, so shoot him! Shoot that excuse of life and let the world be free.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015




When farms of greens are cultivated

And the farmers are without harvesting tools

And the farmed lack the strength of nutrition

Chaos abounds

How these farms get farmed

By allowing the farmers to farm to harm

Beats minds which care for ready farms

Please get green farms to term

Please get green farms to grow

Both the farmers and the farmed

Must be enlightened on readiness

To get all greens to term

Terms ready to be farmed

For bumper harvests

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(This piece was inspired by the reported high rate of teenage pregnancies in the Brong Ahafo Region of Ghana. Please farmers (men who indulge in having sex with teenage girls) help the farmed (teenage girls who indulge in sexual activities ending in teenage pregnancies) mature in growth to avoid the canker)



I need to rap

No one should tap

I’m not on laps

When impressed, just give some claps


I’m now a bird

I’m not on a bed

So why are your eyes red

When I’m building my shed?


Let me live like an eagle

And soar like an eagle

No need to act like an angel

Nor direct from an angel


I’ll give you a tap tap and a tap

To get you out out out of your rap

You may not be on a lap

But surely you need to give a clap

For the one who fed you until now to rap

For the one whom you’re telling not to tap

For she moulded your head to wear a cap

And thought not about her sleeping gap

Before your birth, she could rap and rap

But your intrusion gave her the tap to “stap”

Just take it from me and read your map

Or take a break and get a nap

To think of your thoughtless silly rap

So you can call your life into a wrap

After knowing you really deserve a tap

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Wrapped in beauty

Are the rots with shiny eyes

Booting goodness

With their long legs of deceits and fancy


Wrapped in the rots

Are the goodness sent to hell

By heads doped in the rot

Into the reverence of its essence


A world, so harmed

By bad, so wrong

Yet minds, don’t think

And hearts, are captured


I need that heart that works so great

I need that head which thinks so great

Not that which see factions as tools

To be used to breakage and dumped for new


I’m calling

Why is there no voice?

I’m calling, why do I get no response?

Like an echo roaming in rocks

My voice reverts after decades to me

Poor, poor them and me

We were brought to many things see


Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

What is the Delay Show Turning Into?

Phot Credit: www.nigeriashowbiz.com
Phot Credit: http://www.nigeriashowbiz.com

Television hosts in Ghana hardly impress me especially when they host interview programmes but The Delay Show blew me away the first time I watched it. I felt the host had depth, could push, could intimidate, and knew how to get the answers she needed (And she still does) and so hardly a session pass me by. Now I feel the show is turning into a prostitute parade show, a show which fuels the whims of bad girls or better put, a show which is a bad influence on girls who need motivation to soar high.

Being a teacher whose aim is to motivate student girls to aspire for greater things other than being housewives to big bosses, I feel very wronged whenever I see platforms meant to motivate and inspire promote women who use their bodies as baits and men as wallet to move ahead. Many women have proven and are still proving that girls inspired can aim and achieve anything they set their minds to. There are now many voices chasing that freedom of mindset for the girls and women hitherto forced into submissiveness but Deloris Frempong Manso, who is actually a woman who has made it and is still making it by working hard in this African zone, coming forward to offer her platform to high class prostitutes and women who use their bodies to get what they want, so they can teach girls how to go about the art of prostitution and luring men actually drops jaws. This is a shame! Seeing Mandy Afriyie Acquah or whatever she is called, telling tales of how her boyfriend bought her a Range Rover at 18 is despicable.

People who aspire for greater things abound in Africa. Women who have studied and succeeded are here, women who have toiled to the top are also here, so why must a platform like that be given to gold diggers and high class prostitutes?

As a female teacher who seeks equity for women, I am working hard and of course, I know many who are also working hard for girls and women to rise. Only God knows how difficult it is to put boys on the sweeping roaster up here in the North, only God knows how difficult it is to make the girls understand that their place is not in the kitchen and that they were not brought to school to do domestic chores for their male colleagues, only God knows how difficult it is for some of us to live in areas like this where self proclaimed superiors in the form of men think they are gods to be worshipped and speak anyhow to any woman they come across.

I am entreating Delay to rethink about the goals of her show and if possible rate it. If Delay cannot help motivate young ones to work hard, she must not break the walls of “can do” being built around them and for her own sake, she must listen to this voice before people begin to rubbish her show.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia


Mum C

I no want be man

Why I go dey want be man?

Woman dey be waaa



Them no dey fit cry

Them always dey shave shave beard

Wet dreams, na wetin?



I no want be man

Africa pressure no small

For man, them sweat pass



Them always dey beg

For dark dark then flex for light

For them worship hall



I no want be man

Woman dey accuse sotaaay

Na all curse don gas



If a man hungry

Wey kind man go give am food

If im face biabia?



Africa man tire

Dem chase chase flexing woman

Wey dem lose money



A barren woman

No dey shame like man whose

Gun no have bullet



Man be room, no gate

Man be room, no get window

Man na suffer bag


I no want be man

So so tire tire be man’s fort

Why I want be man?



Woman dey suffer

I no go lie, but them live

Dem dey dodge pressure

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015





Phot credit: webneel.com
Photo credit: webneel.com

When dangling bells

Sound to their importance sell

My chest pots do bell



They do bell and tell

Of trees of God’s perfection

Seeking reaction


Do they produce fruits

No matter their hoarding years?

My heart calms its fears



I’m the only house

Of mobile humanity

Made by the ’Deity




I’m the only tree

With two ready hot pots full

To serve new ones full


My house monthly cleaned

And emptied for visitors

Of the creator who mentors



All dangling fruits,

My kinds do the production

So why their actions?



Oh all known ingrates!

Please do get locks for heads

As you lie on beds



You might have visions

Visions of all your missions

To right decisions


For this glorious art

Refined in life’s compassion

Is a sensation

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015




Maame told me not to wriggle

Because it will make many eyes do the tickle

But a step from leg come with a wriggle

And I saw no eyes do the tickle

So I wriggled my wriggle

On my many leggy workings


I met Apia on the way to farm

One Monday and I saw no harm

He looked at me and said damn!

You look so much like your beautiful mum

He touched my hair and said to calm

For he would never do me harm


He touched my neck

And gave me a peck

He said that was the white way to remove a speck

Mmm aaaa, I want you on deck

You’re so important I can’t call you on beck

But please calm my ways and keep me in check


I didn’t want to touch him

But his countenance was dim

As he lay in pain under the tree called nim

So I lay beside him 

To calm his whim

But a snake stood from inside of him


I made to run

But he had on me a ban

He held me like a ham and told me he was a man

And if he so desires he would throw me into a can

I felt my blood boiling like a coke’s gas run

After a while I looked for a bite and did find none


A snake rose from a man’s farm

And did me harm

But I felt I wanted more of that fine harm

Until mama caught me looking harmed

She looked so angry I couldn’t keep calm

She said damn! Now I’ll cause you harm

If only she had explained to me the harm

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Even without the cock

The hen does its wake

Pecking and pecking

For its children’s sake

Opening its wings

When danger does bake

A piece here, a piece there

An angel in the wake


When sticks are coming

It does shout for all to run

When chicks need afternoon roosting

It sits and forms a house

When people are chasing 

It stands with its cutlass beak

A hen is a ten god

Familiar with the rod



Cocks just crow

Mate and glow

Showing the shoulders in a mane

Which flows

Growing the muscles

Like scary crows

They are super models

To be emulated by men

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Don’t you bother telling me much

I know in times past I was nothing as such

Eight to eleven is a huge gap

I think I need to give you and I a tap

I’m no longer in amoasene

You’re no longer in bente

Like the spider inspired kente

We have all covered our asene

I know I don’t need to stay for seven days a month at the mfikyire

And you don’t need to roam all day in the forest

For my every gain you see as signs of kaakyire

You have also had your rest

Now I try my best

Doesn’t mean you should totally rest

If your hands and legs have no posts

The kitchen awaits your timely toasts

Saucepans know no gender

So don’t put your head beings asunder

If I carry yefunu

And you know I can turn into efunu

Why can’t you lay the eponu

To make sure my death won’t be in hunu

Mmarimma adwene! I think w’ahunu

Mmarimma adwene! Epue if you get yefunu

I’m me doing my me,

In a world I met, to fit what I see

Take me not back where my kind paid the fee

To roll to this state by crossing many a blood sea

Do your do

Let me do my do

Or move forward or backwards

And seek no wards

True words need no pardon

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



She saw him

In the light of innocence

And loved him

For she housed him nine moon travels

But time showed his flaws

Earth conquered his will

And society came to see

“Ei! What is this?

It could be an ancestral curse!

It could be the result of her prostitution!

It could be the curse of family which needs the couple separated!

This can’t be a human being!

This is a pure evil child!

Panic grabbed her heart

What are they saying?

She wept, but still held him tight

Then the ultimate voice came from one

Who bears her maternal blood

“This is a snake reincarnated to bother you to death”


She is no snake

And although he may have been housed

By a snake-like dangler once,

That is so different from a snake

He can’t be

And she’s not taking him to be turned into a python by any deity

So she was neglected!

But her will was her guts

A mother is she who hopes

A mother is she who loves

A mother is she who prays for the better

A mother can never be a murderer

She looked keenly and saw his soul

A soul so pure like snow

A soul telling her

“Mama, I’m here

Throw me not away,

I am no snake

And definitely not evil”

Then technology echoed his soulful words

Truth his eyes told

Although his mouth could say not

Hope is all he needs

Hope is all she needs

Love and patience are all they need

Let nature decide their fate

You are no God!

I am no God!

None is a God on earth to decide fates

Listen to the souls of these and help

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015







I marvel at the way

Taunters justify and say

tis a tradition and needs no reaction

Sad! With today’s intellect and technology


A pox on all those thoughts!


Veins are connected

A running blood goes through it

Gayly working with other organs

In feelings of ecstasy and 

Never wanting to die before the whole

Ah! But superior and low confidentias care less


Now! Please stop!

Overbearing beings, please feel

Taste their shoes and feel the death of their pleasure


A stitch in time, they say, saves disgrace


Shiver and quiver

Nets are for fishes

Africa needs a light

Kill those thoughts

Emancipate your minds and let the clits be

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



I live in a skirt

A skirt zipped tightly to seal

To seal as a present for the deserved

I’m not renting out

Definitely no to-lets


I know in rat holes

Many moles can be placed

To trap the hole lords

But this zipped hole is not a rat hole

Serving as a play ground

For hunters


I am a woman

People say “a woe to man”

Amazing how man still chases to woo

Please set your mind free

Ask and get permission

But know defeat

And stay away


I’m a temple

A temple hoarding many blessings

For the deserved

A temple, a temple only for one

Not all, so you can try to see your fate

If you are bounced, step not onto holy grounds

For you would be cursed then

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Cooking pots

Please stop the rots

When you are on fire

As you get hotter

Your steam must attract through smell

And your pot must be hot to scare

You need not break down

Sending ladles down town

To get many hands to carry you down

Pots, it is normal to be hot

For the fire is your glorified stool

A pot with many complains end up being broken

Or abandoned in a dusty corner

So work well in heat

As you stand on your feet

Or sit on that seat

For that is your destiny

And your ticket to awesomeness

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

(This poem is a reflection of pregnant women who complain about many things and neglect their jobs and responsibilities using their pregnancies as excuse. There are genuine cases but the intentional ones must seize before we lose face completely)


Mama mused the amused

Breaking through the used

And getting to the abused


Abusers were clearly charmed

With thoughts of the harmed

As the abused hoed and farmed


Sleep whipped them in sleep

They woke to their own weeps

And taunted their beings of keeps


Share the dreams

Of many who scream

To those who cause the dreams

Like mama did, please!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Mercy! Thought killers!

Mercy! Women boilers!

Mercy! Mere phantomers!


Bright! This earth is bright!

Bright! Because of our rights!

Bright! And you give us frights?


Sorry! Beaters and slappers!

Sorry! Taunters and killers!

Sorry! You have no faults, we are the birthers!


If your mothers sat on your heads

As you came out from their sheds

None of these would have been heard


So go on

So add more upon

Your opposition to your own blessings

Are obvious!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

(If you disrespect a woman, know you are disrespecting your selves. Life begins with the woman and ends with hope thanks to the woman. Know women have rights and are humans just like men, in the same vein, women, respect is given to who respect is due, know this)

Women: Warning Signals in Abusive Relationships



Since the beginning of time, women have been known to be possessions of men. This trait is waning thanks to the emergence of Women Rights Activists who cry for the emancipation of women but this canker still persists. Although there are good men out there, there are many men who think it is their right to marry as many women as they want provided they can afford it (and some do it though they cannot afford it). Let a woman try this and they get so defensive and try to harm the women and sometimes the women’s men. It is not a good habit to cheat but the same way a man can fall out of love with a woman; a woman can fall out of love with a man. Jealousy nurses bad intentions, when these intentions grow because of lack of the discipline herbicide; it turns into a dessert of thorns which can pierce hearts and kill instantly. (I don’t have any intentions of being biased so I will add that a jealous woman is like a time bomb capable of exploding anytime, not healthy. For the purpose of brevity, I would stick to the signs men exhibit). The here are some of the signs.

  1. A little jealousy is good but being too jealous can turn disastrous. A man who is overly protective because of jealousy is like a fetish priest worshipping the god of jealousy. Once he gets possessed, he is whipped to the realm of jealousy and may do un-repairable damage, damage he may regret when his god dispossesses him. Life is one, just one, who wants to play with hers? When he begins to suspect you by asking you questions based on his intuition and your answers do not satisfy him, you need to start putting measures in place to protect yourself because he can get angry and harm you. Stories are told of men who abuse their women based on dreams of infidelity.
  2. When you feel he has set spies for you: so you go to the mall talking to an old school mate or an acquaintance and he calls to ask you where you are. When that detail generates extensive quarrels, you need to start thinking of securing your life and being alone with him when the heat is unbearable is very dangerous.
  3. When he hits you because of a cheating argument, then you need to pack out or pack him out immediately.
  4. When he starts getting offensive to your friends and tries to set you apart from them, you need to gather your thoughts and leave or get the authorities to let him pack and sign a bond that your life is in his hands. Antagonizing your friends and destroying your friendship puts you in the place they want.
  5. When you tell him it is over and he threatens you with suicide, you need to immediately get a restraining order. Chances are, he will really commit suicide in your space and put you into trouble or commit suicide leaving a note that you are the cause to generate enemies for you.
  6. Funny enough, some men with bad intentions tend to use analogies. They tell you stories about men killing their wives because of their infidelity. These stories may have no connections with your conversation at that particular time. Please be wise and try finding out what is going on. He may have information that you are cheating and so may be planning to harm you.
  7. Some also use emotional blackmail. I went out with someone who told me if I ever cheated on him with another man, his family deity would strike me dead. And he had histories of his family members whose wives and girlfriends lost their sanity or lives to cheating. All these stories are mostly baseless. Sometimes they are just meant to scare you into staying with them no matter what they do. Trust me, relationships like that end very badly.
  8. Women must also know that when some men begin to cheat, they assume the other parties are also cheating. So yes, they get overprotective and may harm you due to this.
  9. Some men would also try to harm you based on past experiences. If a man knows women who have cheated on their husbands either with him or other men, he would be sensitive to cheating. If you love this man and talking to him does not help, please try staying as far away from him as possible.
  10. When he is bold enough to tell you that he will kill you, you need to calm him down. Do not antagonize him at all. When you feel safe, report him to the police and let them put measures in place to protect you. Your life is of vital importance to yourself, your family and your community. Please do not let an angry man take it from you.

There may be more, but these are the obvious ones I came up with. So ask yourself, are you in a healthy and safe relationship?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014



If tears and fears

Could be called to tell

I know much women tears

Will rise from the grave

And whine at the unfairness

That sent them there


Tears of those who suffered

Extreme jealousies which

Were interpreted as witchcraft

Tears of those beaten and stoned

To death for following their weird passions

And tears of the neglected and rejected


How much tears the earth has drunk

In the quietude of darkness!

In the bosom on hatred!

In the airs of many eye!

Who knows how most women cry

Until the sweat in their bodies

Are forced out by coffins’ oven?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Leg on leg

A lady never sells

Her farm or pride


Leg on leg

Even in love, there is

A knock before enter button


Leg on leg

Head and chin up

Are her greatest tools yet


Leg on leg

Lowering eyes is a

Defeat sign


Leg on leg

Owning the kitchen

Died with days around shakespeare


Leg on leg

Thoughts distinguishes

A WOMAN from mere women


Leg on leg

With this huge power to grow and feed,

Who needs to bow to fertilisers?


Leg on leg

Like a rainbow all ends must bow

For real beauty


Leg on leg

I am a WOMAN

Among women


Yes, so leg on leg

I’ll sit like a queen

And act, work and think like a sage

Hey woman! Is your leg on your leg?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014









I cannot wish to be anything else


And no one can force me to

Mentality drives beings to their wish lands


Femininity is superiority

Elegance of beauty coupled with rooms and locks of

Mankind holds me, I have an intelligence which makes me phenomenal,

A power to make man kowtow to me mostly

Leaving his societal powers for sunlight

Even to a point of begging for what I deem pleasurable



A box of gift for mankind

Narcissists even attest to this fact

Down or up, in work or play, a child seeks me mostly for a hug


I go the extra mile to make the world smile

ven if I’m dying from within

Mine is mine and my mentality drives me positively past oppressors


Pride of womanhood

Rearing peace for the resentful

Open minded to lie low for fools to flow and show

Under no circumstance will I waver or fall

Dare me and the anger of God overshadows you so why will I waver?


One thing reigns supreme in procreation

Female womb after conception


It transcends all of natures pride so

Till I lay my hands on my chest as the last wave, I’ll cherish me

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014





Ghana is a state known for its peace, we have a few scratches here and there but of course, we are revered for our achievements as a peace loving nation. That women are relegated to the background most of the the time is a known fact, but we are actually working very hard on it. There are the feminists who are working hard to battle men whose sole pleasure is to terrorize women but I think they are tackling this the wrong way. They must fight against minds such as Honourable Nelson Abudu Baani’s who is the Member of Parliament for Daboya Makarigu. Let me rephrase it thus; feminists must fight against religion for that is the handcuff many men use to imprison women.

This is an arena where even Christians practice polygyny but it becomes an abomination if a woman happens to cheat. And I will say this, it is not religions which some people abhor in this present world, it is the behaviour of people who practice the religion that makes it unattractive. Misinterpretations to suit greed is the order of religions in present times. If a member of parliament gets up to say a sharia-like law must be added to the Interstate Succession Law which parliament is deliberating on (to relieve women and children who are disinherited) before passing the bill into law, then I’ll say we have failed as a nation.

Here we are trying to free women from the metal web of unfair culture and a learned person trusted enough to be mandated to help represent the region where most women are treated as less humans gets up to throw a rope of barbaric religious law and asks his peers to make it a death trap to strangle women. I think that man should know the difference between his religion and his position. Ghana is a country, it is a country which does not belong to any religious sect. So if Abudu Baani is confused, he should be tutored to know the difference.

How can we be pushed into the fire as we are getting out of the frying pan? No human is to be stoned to death no matter his/her transgressions, no human being must be subjected to forced hanging no matter the atrocious deeds committed! What is most ridiculous is the fact that he thinks it is unfair for women to cheat and so when they are stoned to death or hanged it is right. I ask, what about the man who cheats with the woman? What about a man who cheats on his wife? I say this always but I’m saying it again; Muslims misinterpret their Holy Book. If it tells them to marry as many as four, loving all of them equally and taking care of all of them equally, it is supposed to be interpreted as an impossibility! No man can love two people equally! No man, absolutely no man! That the Prophet Mohammed was chosen to lead when there were others before him must say it all. Even Allah cannot love all equally so Muslims do not have any justification to marry more than one let alone trample upon the rights of women.

Let women have equal opportunities to live. If you cheat, be prepared to be cheated upon without sentiments. Parliament is not a preaching ground. I hope the women who voted this Baani man into power realize that he does not belong there. Next time they are casting their votes, they should envision him holding a huge stone aiming at them or holding the ends of a rope ready to strangle them. Women in Africa have seen enough, women in Ghana are tired of it all. Let the chains of terrorism against us be broken! Can’t we be left as birds to fly for a change? We are humans, humans who gave all men their lives, nurture you, love you and so if you have nothing for us, please respect us and leave us be!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia.




Sing songs from the great voice of truth

Sing songs which will equally soothe

For songs bright for all get most dance

Songs for the half put half in trance

Let the songs from Africa call

For the ones made to take the fall

Since time was, up to the present

See it as atonement present


Make women who are the paths brave

Stop sending them to early graves

You’ll gain if you good living paves

And will be as breakers of slave caves


Days of chains of smoke in kitchens

Days claimed witches were killed as chickens

Days of females sent as presents

Days when female mouths had no contents

Breeds of humans and animals

Seize! No factions are animals

Please see the way and freedom pave

Let us out and our lives save


Make women who are the paths brave

Stop sending them to early graves

You’ll gain if you good living paves

And will be as breakers of slave caves


When one who craves for normal life

Happens to be a normal one’s wife

What’s the message being sent across?

That the wife bears his heavy cross?

Wake from the slumbers of surety

Save the world from a calamity

Hear children weep for their mothers

And save the day as their fathers


Make women who are the paths brave

Stop sending them to early graves

You’ll gain if you good living paves

And will be as breakers of slave caves

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



We are like corn

We give and give

In many shades

We can be roasted

And can be boiled

We can be grinded

And can be broken

But we keep on replacing

Ourselves and others

Feeding world’s hunger

Helping the poor

Women are givers

Of tall and short

Of slim and fat

Of rich and small

Tend to these maize

And maintain the world

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Plugged to the socket of deceit

Swished till the view of defeat

We are getting used to electrifications of shame

But no!

Let us not!

Let’s be no plugs

Neither must we give any shocks

Let’s root our voices in sense

Battling the unfairness of being plugged

The pain of being electrified

The fear of being blasted

Costing us our lives

Costing them grief

Wake from the drunkenness of electrification,

From the pain of shame

And merge our voices

In battling unfavourable mentalities to freedom

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




Like goods, they’re transported in goods

Like firewood, they are bundled to alien homes

They are things sold in barter trade

Oh Africa!

Oh paths of lives!


Like tools, they are used and left

Like the headless, they are shunned in decisions

Like crumbs, they are swept as rubbish

Oh Africa!

Oh paths of lives!


Who travels nine moons for humiliation?

Who nurtures a lifetime for ingratitude?

Which light  brights in fright of night for the night?

Oh Africa!

Oh paths of lives!


With paths being blocked and fenced to desert

With paths dug and covered to trap

With paths left weedy with thorns, which legs go through in safety?

Oh Africa!

Oh paths of lives!


Wombs of Africa!

Paths with glowing light!

Beautiful eyes of Africa!

These eyes are not for rivers of tears

Rise up! Put up a fight! A fight for freedom!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




I walked into his senses

Through his lens

And broke all his fences


I walked into his fences

Through his many lens

And  damaged all his tenses


I walked into his senses

My perfume taking him to heaven

And tossing him painfully to hell


I walked into his senses

Through his digital lens

Driving him mad like a mad cow


I walked into his senses

And saw his exasperation, fear

And burning longing


I walked into his senses

And saw his passions erupt

And his thoughts corrupt


I walked into his senses

Not my intention

And through no fault of mine


I walked into his senses

Although I sought my sustenance

He yearned for pleasures


Yes pleasures!

Wanting to damage me in the most horrible of ways

Making me his toy for a short while


But too bad

I saw his senses dangling like rotten wood about to fall

And I just had to duck and watch it break into pieces

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


Real Men


Wright works well to wreck

Well, we wish he works well to rock

Like a chicken, he pecks, and scatters

Leaving no trail of his intakes

He believes a real man

Uses muscles to tackle women

Subduing them into fear

He believes one who makes women cry

Is the real deal

He believes, even his mother,

Must kowtow to him

Because he has the power of a male

And he parades his ignorance around my arena


I believe

He, like a huge rock, 

Can never get into my sieve

And he’s in shock


My real man

Must apologise knowing not who wrongs

My real man

Must worship the temple which gave him life

My real man

Must be a realist who is dependable

My real man

Must be able to depend on me without shame

When the need arises

My real man

Must never think of hitting women

Let alone disrespecting his life giver

My real man

Must give respect to the real makers of the earth

My real man

Must stand for what’s right

And stick to his guns

Not with abuse

But with brains gained through wisdom


So parade not in my arena

I am who I am

Simple but with a choice

A choice to choose right

And not wrong

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




“Let’s talk about toys

And forget boys

Mortars do cover

Pestles never do” Akosua says


“But I do boys

And don’t like toys

What’s with all the coys?

They can’t produce any joys” Amina replies


“But think of toys

They never break hearts

And do as told

They never  break rules too” Akosua emphasises


“I believe in natural creation

Many drown but we still drink water

So I’ll chose the right norm

And face the storm” Amina concludes

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




It was a taunter’s dream

To have a cook and a washer

His dream has changed

Into a cook and a book


It was a taunter’s dream

To have a ride and many cries

His dream has changed

Into a hot ride and few cries


It was a taunter’s dream

To kill many to show his wealth

That dream has changed

He wants more I must say


His pay is free, he thinks

Because his cook is dusted, he knows

If women emancipation does something

Then I’ll say, it financially liberates men!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




It is for sons and sons

The paths are blocked

Amazing how the machetes still need the paths


It is for sons and sons

The paths have thorns

Amazing how the machetes walk on without clothes let alone sandals in their vulnerables


It is for sons and sons

The paths are no good

Amazing how their rivers give lives and their hearts save


It is for sons and sons

The paths are punching bags

Amazing how givers get chewed by the coup of the given


But we shall survive this!

Our hearts shall survive this!

Our zeal shall fight this!

We are the paths of life after all, paths chosen by God!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


false preachers

The sickness, her life craves

The preacher promises a god which saves

So her mother leaves her in his care

At night he gets his share

He, like the preacher he claims,

For her beads, to pray, aims,

Gets possessed and damages her more

Gaining more pleasure and leaving her sore

His nightly prayers continue

Her sores become more

Sickness raves mad

Sores eat her

Her mother fasts

Passing through many roads of prayers on an empty stomach

Leaving her walking in bones

But the situation deteriorates

Devils in veils of the perfect parody of the Messiah!

She is human

Human needing humane hands

Stop counting her beads in prayers!

And get real religious beads

Then, and only then,

Will the hell fire you preach of

Seize to taunt you with consumption in your sleep

And stop your beds from witnessing you weep

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



doormat2 Grandma was no doormat

She had three husbands

Husbands she gave three lives each

And the earth took one from each


Mother was a direct opposite

A doormat used by three

And taken by one who stepped harder

Through her journey of five lands

In nine moons apace

The three lands she had journeyed

Gave her three gifts

And her weak nature

Coupled with the irony of giving the world eight gifts

Weighed her down 

Here I am

Thinking of what I am

Certainly don’t want to feel the pain of being stepped on

Certainly don’t want to be the traveller of many lands

Certainly don’t want to be the traveller with no aid

I certainly am me

Oh ye creator of earth paths!

I scream and cry in pain of my path

You should have given me a machete

So I could clear any path I wanted

Paths are burdens immobile

And I feel the weight of immobility

Please help me if you hea

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




Unripe fruits, abused

Weak seeds, used

New born plants, deflowered

What are these?

What are these?


Full blooms, seek

Beautiful grooms, speak

Strong hearts are weak

So they abuse their strength

They abuse the weak


The weak weeps

With broken hearts

They hide the fears

You imprint on their souls.



Living cowards! Bow

Your shameful heads, low

Your egos are dead, throw

And purge your consciences

Please do purge your consciences

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

(For those who abuse children and the weak in society, know there is the prize nature gives. I believe in Karma. Please repent from these inhumane sins and be a protector. Abusing a child lasts forever on his/her mind. For those abused, I feel you, I know your pains, I know your fears, so please take those clothes of pain off, and shine through.)


(This poem is dedicated to all women in all corners of the world who are being mistreated by men who think they are their properties. It also goes to women sold by their own families. I pray with you because I know it can never be easy living and being used like an object. Forced marriages should be banned, with your prayers and my voice, I hope we will live to see a world without domestic violence against women. If you fall within this category, know you’re not alone, you can always start by trying to speak up and letting the world know what heinous crime this is. Blessings always)


Being brought bought

After being caught like a fowl

Makes me no hen

Please have mercy this night

It’s been nights and nights of hard labour

Carrying your body load like a tipper truck

Even trucks need servicing

Do have mercy and give this truck some rest

Whoever buys a car to drive to destruction without profit!

I do not blame you

I blame the makers of this truck

Who sold it cheaply caring not where it was being sent to

Instead of four tires, I’m left with two

But it’s alright

Next time, I might have to come as goods

Instead of a truck

Or come in a state where trucks are equally valued

So I can live to breath

Not live smelling things which will send me to my  early grave

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014