Merge in shadows unmatched

Shadows which swallow shadows

How can they be seen?



Merge in lights unmatched

Lights which swallow lights

How can they be seen?



And let our shadows give their marks

Standing visibly in togetherness

So we can each be seen



And let our lights battle separate darkness

Shining brightly in conformity

So we can each be seen



Will be the sounds which like a messenger

Will send the messages of happiness from our camp

For all ears to hear, legs to run to us and eyes to see

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014















We need to pile our hope, to save our souls

We need to catch that rope, to help our souls

Get up! Get up! Be a book worm

And watch, learn, if you fall, don’t squirm

Wake, ye nations of procreation and love

Get up! Work hard minding not the stones above



We are like new sweet gums, chewed and thrown out

At first we’re wooed with hums, but end with shouts

Stand tall! Stand tall! We need freedom

We need freedom in this kingdom

The ropes of deception must be cut loose

Stand tall! We can never afford to lose




We’re now slaves in kitchens, washing machines

We’re now roosting chickens, from our six-teens

Be Stronger! Be stronger! Fight to finish

What we need is learn to catch the fish

Then we can stand at the finish clear line

Be stronger! We will work until we’re all fine

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014











For a hole to hide its finger

When nobody is watching

It shuns its precious little wingers

And goes hunting in a sunny scorching

It knows it is in danger

But thinks of the warm little hole

It dreams of the finger in a manger

And desires for it with its heart in the whole

“Why will I sit in cold

When there’s heat to mend this soul?

I’ll never my finger fold

I’ll eat in the holey bowl”

And so it went chasing

For a goose whose wings were golden

It sweats with its finger burning

And limps as all beholden


The goose thinks of it as a novice

Who has been caught by the hole

It laughs thinking of its service

And swears to tire the mole

The goose jumps with style

It jumps in confusion

The goose slows and jumps like its on an isle

It jumps tiredly caring not about its intrusion

The kingdom watch its finger

As it bells its greedy need

And watch its small figure

Which they know the hole will never consider as feed

The goose had pity and held its finger

Broke its city messing his whole

To make sure he’ll get no more party for a winger

It flies to the dark and watches its little abandoned wingers grow big in his left hole

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014








She creeps to the shelter of the law

From the pain at the shore

Of fishermen who bore

They promised justice and she waited

Only for her fisherman to come in his glory

Painting a sight of her trait so gory

And get the law mellowing under his charms

So creeping in

And creeping out

Of the shelter of the law

She hangs in the middle

Knowing not the going

And the coming

Until a bird sang a song

A song forbidding her to hang in its world

It said:

“You have no feathers

And cannot stand these weathers

Yours is the beauty of struggles

As you wear their hard made shackles

So be there and don’t act queer

Stand in and all those bear

Know ye not it is the world

Of the man

In your side of the world?”

She cried and laughed in tears

Cringed and crawled back to the shore

Embittered but kept nursing the many fishes

Who were itching to come

To either bully or suffer

If only they knew…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


images (1)

It would be a cliché if I say love embodies jealousy and that the nature of provocation determines its severity but I’ll say it anyway. The woman is different from the man physically but emotionally. I know we have most of the same features including jealousy. A man can drown himself in sorrow when he feels his woman is cheating on him, kill himself or harm the woman all because of jealousy. In severe cases, a man can kill his fellow man when he is seen with a woman he considers his own. This is jealousy. Many domestic abuse cases involving women stem from this. This is the same feeling women habour, the anger, the urge to harm or die from the surface of the earth, the urge to turn into a drunk are also signs of jealousy.  Sometimes, I think men do not understand this logic hence their torturing women. If you think about life very well, you realise that the story of evolution has it that one man was equal to one woman, Adam to Hawa or Eve. That we have gotton to a place where men are greedy for more women to satisfy themselves, I know, is the doing of man and not God.

Muslims have their Holy book which concurs their marrying more than one wife. Mostly, I think that quotation of the Quran is misunderstood. This is because; no one person can love two people equally. We give birth to offsprings, we have siblings, yet we have our favourites. In the realm of Christianity, Jesus Christ was the most loved, Prophet Mohammed (Peace be unto his name) led because Allah favoured him, of course there were many men living on earth during his time. This shows that even God cannot love all of us equally. So for the Holy Book to say you have the right to marry up to four PROVIDED YOU CAN CARE FOR THEM EQUALLY, my mind tells me; it means, never try the impossible because even God cannot love all equally.

But Muslims have taken this quotation at its surface meaning and are abusing it. People who can hardly feed themselves marry more than one in their bid to show their manly powers. Now greed has set in. Many men want women who are self-sufficient to make their lives easier but the Book said YOU should take care of them not the other way round.

Traditionalists are polygamous. I like them for one thing, they have no clause attached to their greed for women. Provided you want to, you can marry as many women as you wish but you may pacify your wife if you see the need to do so. Again I say, women and pain! They must always be made to experience what men themselves can’t stand; jealousy and in some cases, are forbidden from showing it.

If you read this, know that women are also human beings with the same feelings as men. Recently, I have come into contact with two Muslim women who are crying their hearts out because their men are going to marry other women. Who says the pain is less because the Quran which they believe in says so?

Men, when you look at another woman apart from your wife, be the spectator in your mind’s eye and see your wife looking at another man with the same intent you have, feel the rage, the heat, the intent to kill, and know that that is just how much she would feel with every step you take. Women are not mere wood, they have as much feelings as men and suffer more than men do. That bit about women being more than men on earth hence the need to marry more is unjustified, it is just greed talking because many men tend to love one women, and if polygamy is active, polygyny is also something that can also be made active if ever there should be another Beijing Conference. Please stop making women shed tears of blood and do unto others as you would want others to do to you, what is good for the goose, is good for the gander.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


His fitting nomenclature for her was Bitch

She felt his pocket

It was to her satisfaction so she accepted

Knowing too well she’ll end in a ditch

Embarrassing garnish on cakes of parties

Was her

All night usage after possession of medicinal potency

And she was the target of unbothered sorries

In minutes of contact

All her friends were made her rivals

He prided in parading his conquests

But she remained the bitch to receive the hurting contact

Anger in contracts

And she was made the punching bag

To release tension and anger

His horrible thoughts were facts

Her womb was his private water closet

He defecated things with hearts in her

And flushed them at will without a second glance

And never thought of any planning set

In short, she was it

His it and she persisted

Until the it couldn’t fit

Into the bin of her seat in the kit

The life was sucked out of her

After a night of high possession of aggression

The master of the bitch saw not

As he forcefully took her precious her

There are signals

There are always signals

Know the signals

And stay on the safest track

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014




Our seeds are sewn

In love and growth

We land on the hands

Our seeds are sewn

In love and growth

We land on the hands

Of the earth with faith

But mostly attract frowns on faces



A little angelic animal lands in the cradle



Human expectation has been breeched to the core



Inheritors must have huge sticks



Because they need to tend to us cows


So we join the herd

Being trained and flogged

Being used and dumped

Being trained in pain

Being hands of houses

Being eyes with corneas of rivers

Which must always act like the sun in the sky


When humans hold cutlasses and guns

We hold brooms and extend our bellies

Like balloons with an opening being filled

By a never tiring mouth until it burst

Leaving us with a brokenness to be tended



Our eyes have been uncovered


I say,

Let’s say no to being seen as only hands which cook


I say,

Let’s love brains and shine so bright in the books


I say

Let’s turn our hurts into gain and make our gain the earth’s


I say

Let our flowers wow and let the world bow


Leaves and flowers may be on the same plant

But flowers attract relegating leaves to the background


Let’s strive to put smiles

On the faces of human donors

When they see the paths instead of the sticks

They crave,

We are super humans,

We can never be classified

Under less humans

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014




From painful smiles

The mouth burst

Scattering  blood, breeding relief and pain


Like an overfilled drum

Hurt pushes to be free

But the harder it pushes, the tighter it closes


Oh soul of hunger! Soul of thirst!

I’ve exceeded my danger! I’ve exceeded my pain!

Get the pain seamstress! Get the hurt cleaner!


Sow me to purity! Help me forget,

As the world wheels

And the time twirls.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Pity messed with her head

As glittering living urged him on

His ego was tingled by passion

As his eyes strayed from her


Was it her apparel?

Could it be that her flowers are wilting?

What could it be?

These and many more walked in an excursion on her mind


Her resolves were none

Seeing as her rival, like a bloated loaf

Walked like a zombie in an unfamiliar ground,

Her pride  and heart sustained the highest degree of burns


She left a thousand times

Through many speeches prepared only for him in her mind

But words flew to an unreachable tree

When his face graced her environment


“Go, if you can’t,

A man must prove he is a man by owning many”

With sweat stepping on  her burns,

She left to her roots


Months hardly walked into the house of a year

And his knees, as his feet, painfully crawled

To her root, a palm in a palm

Tears streaming down his face


All she had to show was her scar

But her scar was not visible

As the heart hid comfortably in its enclave

So the elders pushed her into an abyss of death

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014



A skirt

I smartly wear my work desire

And look forward to success acquire

But they all say that is not what they require

They look down my skirt with eyes of fire

And guess what they require


I have two soft things they want as pillows

I have some talkers they want as toffees

I have a body they want as toy

No competence of mine can clear their heads

Neither will talking stop their obsession


If female is fail

Why will they be the gateways of life?

If female is toyhood, then my joyhood

Remain in the chaotic hood

Snap out of it, you beasts!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



I am a woman

And I’ll stay a woman

I won’t be a foe to another woman

I won’t be a tool to hurt another woman

A man is a man but a woman is my own


I am a woman

With everything woman

I’ll stand tall and work to be a stronger woman

I’ll never see men as job opportunities

Pride is a beauty I’ll always aim to achieve


I am a woman

And will never covet another woman

All hooked men I’ll forever see as expired species

Because the tears of a woman I deem a curse

I’ll work to portray the beauty of  women


I am a woman

And will never abuse a child

Child abuse makes me a farmer killing my produce

All species must be treated fair and square

Because I am that woman who makes the world


I am a woman

And will not stand to be called a thing

Marriage is golden but will never be a bondage

To force my mind and make me a sinner

Or claim my heart and make me bitter


I am a woman

And I’ll forever stand as a woman

A word against a woman will be a word against me

I’ll look out for all women in all spheres

And help with crisis no matter how hard


I am a woman

And will never act like a chameleon

As I am, so will my image in the mirror be

Because I am a woman

And must always stand tall


I am a woman

Which makes me no boxer

I’ll never pick a fight I can never finish

An abusive man will forever be banished from my heart like a slave

His words will never find a path into my ears


I am a woman

Who worry flees from

No matter its nature

It will bounce back into its hole

So never will I cower when trouble stares



I am a woman

Sensual, beautiful,

Brainy and compassionate

No matter what anyone says,

I am a woman who is a woman and will forever stand tall as a woman

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014



Now I indulge in chanty duets

Not painful pushy frets

I ascend the heavens,

Pass cloud nines to the elevens,

Held by potent electricity

Lighted from my sternum, cursing my chastity


Smooth cheeks take me far

Bewhiskered, and we are at par

The delectation of each brush

Grants my vehicle a fuel stash

To move with the tempo of cupid’s passion

Making tingles a great sensation


Don’t I love this?

Every part of me is in the fix

From the standing hair

To the tips of the feet are being treated fair

Gentle strokes’ tempos are to be followed

Hard rough drives are to be explored


We’ve come this far

From our mothers’ being serviced like many a car

Their chairs being sat on

Until the destination of the drivers are chanced upon

They had no complains

And had no guts to set restrains


Now no shivers

Means no swimming in any rivers

No electricity

Means no strolls to any city

I live in love

When I’m done, I sigh like I’ve been blessed from above

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014




Theirs was to be the cooks

And shy from books


Theirs was to the weights

Of the night and be baits


Theirs was to be the incubators

And be great spectators


Theirs was to till the farms

And protect little ones from harms


Theirs was to be clear of dreams

And fetch water from streams


Theirs was to be the punching bags

And end up as old hags


Guess what? That was theirs

And not mine


We have passed that time

When in the dark, we used to you mime


We have passed that time

When our dreams cried in graves


I want my dreams to sing here

Here in Africa, here in Ghana


Female cannot do without male

Male cannot also to without female


But the world would rather retain female

Than male


So suppress not my thoughts

Make me no cots


Be with me or without me

But leave my wings to help me fly

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014

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She’s like sapphire

Transparent in feelings,

She blabbers about her dearest

Embracing her absence

And wearing her yearnings like a beautiful gown


I feel I’m watching a weird movie

I live like her, if not more occupied

So why does she try to taunt me with names?

Could it be her loneliness is more attractive by the cover of a name?

Is the world treating her better because she has a name as her blanket?


Why can’t the world love reality?

I am unaided and I don’t hide it

But I’m free, free to live

I never wait in tear-jerking anticipation

I live waiting on me, that is sincerity


Being sincere is the best way

But the world condones lies to one’s self

I don’t want to live that way

I want to live making love to the African air

I want to live being caressed by the African sea


I cannot live being whipped by its deadly societal customs

Let the superstitions and bad treatments flee from me

Let those who lie to themselves get mirrors of truth

Let those who carry issues of people to the market

Buy real goods for sale


Mine will sell

But it’ll sell without returns

And I could care less

Because the seller gets beaten in the end

I’m living like a true African, not like one bounded by heavy societal wires

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


It’s a man’s world

It’s indeed a man’s world

Although we give them life

But let’s face it,

We give them the maximum offerings


There are those of us who sell for pleasure

Without measure

Their treasures


There are those of us who covet

Without regret

What our peers have, an open secret


There are those of us

Who act helpless, yes, as weak as

New borns who wish to be treated thus


There are those of us who speak

For men and help them reach their peak

Helping them get the chances to peek

On others to gain favour


There are those of us who cheat

Branding it our greatest feat

Loving it and taking seats

In the land of the cheats


There are those of us who hate respect

Curling wings in all aspects

Killing views which might help


Shall we take our cups of thoughts and stand

To all these disband

To pave way for our rights?


Shall we clean our home

And make it shine bright

In order to let visitors step in without their dirty leg wears?


We are women

We are the world

We are the very essence of life

Without us there is no world

Shall we then stand to clean and fight for our right?

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


They hear “fuck you bitches

You ain’t shit, damn you bitches, am ma fuck you”

But clad in skimpy clothes

And shake their properties

As overdosed dopers slap squeeze them like unripe mangoes

How can you betray your kind,

Insult them and brand them useless

By dancing to your insults and theirs?

Tears of disbelief trickle

As I watch these beings parade in what they think is their fame

Huh? Fame? Hilarious!

If I had the powers,

I’d say “a pox on you” to cast the most horrible ones on you

So you can hide away and let some of us

Have the peace of going out with smiles on our faces.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


Atia the tailor met a sailor

On a dreamy angry shore

He made his scissors his siren to call

The coiny pocket of the sailor who toured


He got what he wanted

And won the contract

Of an oldy tattered shirt

He cut away the hands in broad day


The sailor saw he was no tailor

And picked a stick to kick and kill

He fled and shed his treasured machine

And ended up a security at a school


Atia the security got the impunity

To sleep and let the robbers keep everything

He woke to a stick that broke his back

And fled forever to serve his wife


Being a man who craved for 

Power over his woman,

Atia lived the rest of life

With his crooked head always bowed.

  Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


It is a perfect creation

A machine to sieve and produce

One to give pleasure and satisfaction

Not an imperfection calling to be perfected


It is a machine of perfection

Which cleans itself with every growth

And has the decency to close and open

Under the instruction of a mind on top


There is no need for the knife

There is no need to inflict pain

There is no need to shed blood

And to give infections


Hear the cry of innocence! 

Hear the cry of the womb!

Its gates are crushing

Crushing for nothing!

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

Note: Please stop Female Genital Mutilation, it is barbarism to the highest order.


In countless words told

I could easily break in a thoughtless hold


For many cagy stitchy words

The machines kept busier with their mouths than hungry birds


To paint the picture of my frailty

Interfering with my mental agility


Your back must please in a pleasurable bed

It doesn’t have to be soft, your back is all you need to be led


I lay in a bed in time

And felt the pain and the bloody slime


I lay in another bed of roses

And end up with chronic bruises


They then talked about the hurts

And warned to not look up to the whites in trousers and shirts


For they are untamed and lack veneration

And get worse from generation to generation


Now I look at close quarters

And the untamed are better in shatters


They are free to bellow

And have a choice to discard the shallow


Now I want to break free

They say maintaining the bed of thorns is a decree


Break these chains

Please break your chains


And free my wings to make me fly

I am tired of the usual cry

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014



Whispers of the walls

Connive with whispers of the ground

They in turn seek the attention of the mouth of the surrounding

And scream in whispers

“Be in the dark, blend with his shadow

Shadows like yours cannot be seen

It must always act like the backing vocalist behind the screen”

What do I do when I also have a shadow that seeks

To see its height in the sun?

It is not fair

But the eyes of the earth blinks for my quietude

As the ears of the world closes to my plight

As those who pretend to listen bite with no teeth

I remain lost in his shadow

A shadow whose bearer does nothing commendable

Oh pitiable shadow of mine.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


Under the veil

Sits filth which is being washed to no avail


Under the veil

Hides a naughty machine which is always on a sail


Under the veil

Cries a toothless path shouting for a mail


Under the veil

Lies the deception, which when caught cannot be bailed


Under the veil

Ruthless hunters search fervently to shoot a hidden quail


Under the veil

Is the pathway turned rubbish mill which none aims to clear


Funny how every existence

Is made possible by the hidden mystery under the veil.


Under the veil

Lies deception uncensored in a link with the brain.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




Dear Steve

I am no Eve

And have no deals with a snake

I am me

I don’t seek to be anyone else

I just aim to be me

I aim to be the me

Who needn’t crawl at the feet of men

In broad daylight as insults walk

On my face like its natural grounds

While the same feet kneel in front of my temple in the dark

Will I ever get that same respect in the bright face of the sun?


I just aim to be the me

Whose gaze will not interpret into disrespect

For humans

I just want to look into eyes without fright of offense

How wrong can that be?

I just aim to be no incubator or washing machine,

Neither a punching bag nor a slave

I just aim to walk seeing my own shadow

Without it being clouded by another’s

I just want my light to shine in the dark

Without winds holding hands to put me off

I just aim for veneration and reciprocation of my good deeds


What did I do so wrong?

Coming with a productive path

Instead of a walking stick?


The humiliation of forced submission

Must end in my world

The fire burning in me sure needs no quenching water

It aims not to hurt, maim or kill

It aims to light its path for me and others

Please do not see it a sign of sorcery

Condemn me not to the prison of societal thoughts

I just aim to be what I already am: human.