THROUGH THIS STORM

I know
That this land on which you stand
Shakes you into no understanding
As to how these clouds got onto your sky
I know your space and how you pace
Even when you stand in just one place

II
I know
Right now, nostalgic feelings
Fetch memories, happy memories
On screens of uncertainties
Begging the questions
Were they real or unreal?
I know your space and how you pace
Even when you stand in just one place

III
I know
The future seems like a monster
Forcing to chase you into a history
That faded upon your sudden jolt
I know your space and how hard you pace
Even when you stand in just one place

IV
I know
You’ve seen your soul in an arrow
An arrow from your angel of protection
Nothing beats death in pain like the blood
Oozing from your heart
Unseen by eyes
Flooding your spirit
And tearing your body apart
I know your space and how you pace
Even when you stand in just one place

V
What should I do now?
What can I do now?
What will I do now?
What must I do now?
Rhetorics with no answers play your mind like a haunting xylophone
I know your space and how you pace
Even when you stand in just a place

VI
I know
You see happy teeth even with your eyes closed
I know
You see the pointing fingers even in your sleep
I know
You feel the pain of many arms
Encircling your whole world and carrying it away
I know your space and how you pace
Even when you stand in just a place

VII
Trust that you will flourish
If you see beyond the clouds
And feel the soaking of your rains
Trust you
You have a strength in store
Waiting to float onto your body
For all to see
Trust you’re the boss of your ship
The goddess of your whip
You’re the Jesus of your storms
All you need is a decision to muster courage
To ORDER!
And all will stop, even evil spirits that chased, to follow your lead
A heartbreak is like a strange manna in hunger
Your greatness starts from feeding from it
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 6, 2018 for a beautiful lady after my heart.

WHAT IS AMOAKOA TO DO?

What is Amoakoa to do?
There is a tuber of cassava growing in her mound
A tuber which hid itself
Like a thief hiding under a vehicle
In the depth of her mound
Failing to stand in the way of flow
To be pictured into a capture
Swerving Amoakoa and beating her to winning

II
Now everybody is watching
Everybody is curious
House faces are furious
And Kwaku’s beautiful wits have been soaked by bile
Oh those huge eyeballs of society rolling like rollercoasters!

III
Society is raining curses in ridicule
Yet have many outlined errands for the growing cassava
Its huge carnivorous cane chases Amoakoa
One who never planted her cassava alone
But is on the spotlight of hatred

IV
Amoakoa can’t breathe but must breathe for two
Amoakoa can’t eat but must eat for two
Amoakoa can’t sleep but must rest for two
Instruments are threatening murder in crooked healing hands
Home threatens forceful ejections
Kwaku threatens abandonment like thunder and lightning
What is Amoakoa to do?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 28, 2018

MARRY A MAN

Marry a man
Marry a man and not a boy
Marry a man as fair as the sun in judgement
A man who looks at you like a myth, a beautiful myth
Which is like wealth he can never lose
Marry a man who feels no pangs of failure in your successes
And has no ready extinguisher for your dreams

II

Marry a man
Marry a man with a golden secret vault of thoughts
Which can keep you and your beautiful dirt safely locked
Even when hurricanes of fury put you both
In whirlwinds of separation

III
Marry a man
Marry a man with a natural magnet
A natural magnet that bonds you even from afar
A natural magnet that keeps his hands around you
Glues his eyes on you
And catches the radar of your emotions
No matter how complex

IV
Marry a man
Who is like a mirror
Which reflects your beauty and points out your errors
In beautiful but correcting ways
All the while remaining clear

V
Marry a man
A man whose ears work more than his mouth
A man without fists in provocations
A man who loses to you in inconsequential things

VI
Marry a man
Marry a man with a smile
A man whose thoughts feel your tiredness
One who knows no gender
And has a hugging ability like the God of love

VI
Marry a man
Marry a man with romantic bones
One who sweats to plan for your smile and laughter
And will know your little you
Taste your little you
An explorer of your secret caves like no other
A teaser and a pleasurer

VIII
Marry a man
Marry a man like your guard
One whose hands are without metal gloves
And is as transparent with his coffers as clearest of waters
A man who is himself even in your rains
A man who makes you rush home from wherever
No matter how exciting it promises
Marry a man, a man by all means and not a boy
A boy who can act coy and make you a toy
Marry a friend, a ride or die friend
You owe your beautiful bodies that
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Nov. 29, 2018

BODIES and SHADOWS

You think and see how strange it is
It is no mirror
It is no body
It is just a cast of you mostly longer than your form, sometimes sizeable, other times shorter
Sad they can’t be touched
Horrible they can’t be hugged
Annoying they flee your advances to mould
Yet they are your shadows

II
The hot sun that set us up
The cool sun that manipulated us into this
The faint light that cajoled and made us up
Have shed their skins
Some of their seeds almost pleading
Others continuing this cruelty
Can’t you see?

III
You’re me and I am you
I am you and you are me
We are a we: you and I
Cruelty did us separate
Years plastering years plastering years plastering in hundred of years ago
But our root shake at our silent wars
Shadows shaking grounds of bodies with abuse
Thinking themselves better than their source
Bodies howling in anger
Looking down on their shadows

IV
Happy eyes say in their heads
Look y’all are one
But their mischievous mouths smile and cheer our fight

V
Funny
How we will fight the battle of ownership
Ownership of body
Thinking shadow a lesser existence
Forgetting they are one and the same
Stuck for all lifetimes
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 27, 2018

WATERLESS SEA (Crazy Stanzas)

I need a very tall ladder
To climb into minds holding the reigns of our national horses
I need a very good lift
To the core wiring of these great minds sift!

II
Which fishes, drink the waters of their own sea
Sell them for cheap to greedy drought
Kill the clouds of their sky to weed out rain
And are still happy in breeding in there?

III
The now is their got, they think
The future is their naught
Their younger ones should sink
They think not of the sun yearning to dry them
Care not about the pans yearning to fry them
They see no mud hoping to cake them
They forget their enemies above
And their enemies beneath
Enemies beside and enemies in swoop
All they care about is the now
Even as their sweats burn the sands of their dock
Creating fertile grounds for ships of fish nets
To be better grounded
Am I in this horrid sea?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 23, 2018

A BIRD IN FLIGHT

In every bird in flight
Is a fear of fall
The mark of the unknown
Dents histories of the flown
It could be a stone from a catapult
A hit from a stick
Bullet from a gun
Lightening from the sky
Or even a scare from a thunder
Need I mention a sudden breakage of wings?
But it still flies
Scouting food
Living life
Loving
So hang onto your composure
And fly
Fly like a winner
Until the unknown appears
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 22, 2018

FOR REAL MEN (For men on International Men’s Day)

There is a reason those shoulders were built broad
There is a reason those chests are made flat
There is a reason strength flows freely in those veins
There is a reason many lives live in the balls of your guns
Men! Bosoms where many a love begins

II
No matter how imperative the fetching of water is
Those holding baskets as buckets know their clowning
So must fall from the tree of men
Into the dumpster beneath
On this day of celebration

III
A man is he who knows his freedom and its heaven of importance
So much so that he dares not, even in his dreams
Build prisons for any other
A man is he who sees his biblical ribs as himself
Knowing the unfairness of the thorny crowns
History nailed in heads of women
And works to burn those crosses, minutes on end

IV
A real man is a unifier of emotions
Great at empowering even his pets
Even when eyes are locked deep in darkness
A real man is one who takes no vitamin D of another
Drowning none in his shadows
That real man is he who stands on this stage of celebration
This day

V
We build you altars of worship strong souls!
We sing you songs of praise cool hearts!
We create love in rivers calling for the merging into seas
Just for you
We hold guns in hunting any ills against you in this forest of madness
Continue to empower, to love, to protect and be protected
Even heavens bless for fairness
So this shine is from above
From the bedroom of the creator
Just for you!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 19, 2018

GRATEFUL

Through the mud and through the gutters
Through the fears and through the tears
Through the doubts and through the hounds
Through the taunts and through all beatings
You have been here
Here with me shadownically
Quietly pushing
Masterfully weaving
Powerfully watering me into fruition
Ahunuabobirim, aseda nka wo din!

II
Thank you, for nurturing this borla bird
Into an eagle
Thank you, for protecting this ant into an elephant
Thank you for polishing me through the fires
Into a golden bird with wings so strong
Blessings and blessings and blessings and blessings
To you my God, writer of my script of life!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 16, 2018

AN ANGEL CALLED STELLA

Many pots go to the stream and return
Pots and water intact
Why did you have to go all the way to the stream
Fetch, labour to carry
Walk nine moons to reach
Pour the water in its rightful barrel
Only to take a short stroll to shatter into unpieceable pieces?
Many might comfort themselves
With “the one who fetches water breaking the pot” adage
But I still wish I could piece the cracks
Piece them together!

II
You make me want to chase after him
Or is it her?
No, it definitely must be an it!
It is only a monster which chases with no step sounds!
It is only a monster which battles in myth!
It is only a monster which bites into earthly angels without being seen!
It is definitely a monster whose coming even beats thieves!
Oh hands of mine!
Why hath thou no eyes on your fine fingers?
Why hath thou no claws with spiritual Bluetooth or tracker
To track down this beast
To open its unending mouth
To take out this angel?

III
We have been rained on by madness of thoughts of you
Mama Stella!
We are facing the hottest sunlight of your loss
Our emotions melting like Shea in our vessels
We are battling an accursed whirlwind
Which acted hawk to steal you from under our wings
Throwing dust of pain in our eyes
Rivers of tears are gathering into a sea
Of not knowing how to get over you
But aren’t small ships set with our names on it?
Aren’t we eventually going to meet in the belly of the earth?
Aren’t we all, no matter how skilled
Being hunted in this jungle called life?
I know you’ll frown at this
But what can I do in this state?

IV
You believed in an angelic you even in the trap of death
You believed in thanksgiving no matter happenings around us
You believed in a God of perfection whose biography knows no mistake
You believed, believed in a realm of zero sorrow
So our tantrums end in respect
Respect for you, and wishes of yours
Angel Stella, fly higher
Strengthen your wings and cover us and your little ones in protection
Until time bridges our distance
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 10, 2018

DEAR CYBER BULLY

Dear cyber bully,
Why do you hide your face
Behind some chaotic wires?
Are you a grasshopper hiding in the grass of an elephant?

II
Dear cyber bully,
Why do you hide your fist
Behind some poor poor keypads?
Are you an armless coward in the family of an African king?

III
Dear cyber bully,
You might have some rotten teeth
And a foul mouth
What is with all the frowning alphabets
Painting your victims’ inboxes and timelines?

IV
Dear cyber bully,
Grow some balls or grow some breasts
Build a ring or call on a stage
Targets you shoot with arrows of the dark
If cowardice is not your winter clothes worn in your summer of all good suns
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 7, 2018

THE SHE THAT I AM

I fit into stars
I fit into moons
I fit into suns oh high and low
I fit into waters
I fit into fires
I fit into earthquakes oh mild or deadly
I am the she that I am

II
I can
Transform from an ant into a lioness
Metamorphose from a nodding lizard into a reflective chameleon
I can be the sheep turned goat on the gloat
How about flowers with swords of thorns
Weeding dangerous fingers in soils of boastfulness and hardness?
I am the she that I am

III
Agowa’s treasure
One naught can measure
Obenewaa’s goddess
Thought in all goodness
Kwaku Sefa’s dream
Who gave him honour cream
The Northern Bright Light
In all love and might
I am the she that I am

IV
My knees may taste gravels hidden in sands
Not for the dance of enemy bands
My eyes may flow with seas of tears
Not for the pleasure of taunting fears
My body may flow with waterfalls of sweat
Not from the haunts of cruelty’s hurt

But for the flutters and happiness of beautiful hearts
I am the she that I am
That she that Ama Ghana owns in many pieces
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 6 2018

UNDER THE SAME SUN

Under the same sun
Beliefs vary in many a man
Whereas some in nature shun
Others build myths like webs in the sky
Where none tries to look as it’s so high
There are those ghosts caged without a bye
Bruskotoed on oh day and night!
Still there are some believing all a fight
A fight with none, not even a lazy knight

II
You know in my heart the tsunamic confusion
Of jumping so high wanting to part the sky
You know in my head the tornaded infuriation
Of looking so hard even in dreams for you in the dry
You know the hurricanic illusion
Of your chase, all ending in a sigh
I am naught but a vessel in a situation
Waiting to be pushed into breakage
And like a naught in the earth’s bosom, lie so do give me an advantage
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Nov. 4, 2018

NYANE TAKYI

Nyane, nyane Takyi
And pluck him from the dreams of illusions
Which has painted a heavenly innocence
For his troubled reality

II
Nyane, wake Takyi
The mythical evidence that muatia in Ghana did bless
actually worked out there
In metamorphosis into disgrace
Sad it still had a metal hand for slapping

III
Nyane o, wake Takyi
Even if oil paint of shame paints his sorry soul
Dripping in drops of regret spilled like milk
Into unsympathetic sands

IV
Nyane wai, wake Takyi
To see his typhoon of being in the pocket of greed
Carried on waves of ridicule
On a sea of disgrace

V
Nyane o wake Takyi
To shout out his dying love out of his lungs
To his beloveds on thrones of glory
To use him as an example to hang corruption by the neck, suffocating it to death by morn
Lest they turn stones used to balance kitchen stools
On dusty compounds
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 31, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics
(Nyane is an Akan word meaning “wake”. Muatia is the Akan word for dwarfs.)

THE GOD IN A WOMAN (Crazy Stanzas)

We
Don’t need to fight
In broad day and night
About who fits the spotlight
Of the human might

1b
We
Don’t need to kill
In a battle of wits and will
To bring living to a standstill
Just so a faction can after chill

1c
We
Are on this common ground
So why do we ourselves hound
In a fate that we have found?
Does it even right sound?

2
I could
Tell tales of a human with a building
With strong walls for shielding
And the key for keeping
Is it not a form of creating?

2b
I can
Point to the hole of passion
In whom many souls have themselves auction
At will of keepers in action
Oh a she is a beautiful station

3
God is a creator like us
God is a reliever like us
God is compassionate like us
She rises in the sun like us
She falls through rains like us
God massages with air like us
Her fury is to be feared like us
That is the God in a woman

4a
Oh
Labels are naught like God
Shadows are nothing like God

4b
So let egos sit beside pride
In a harmony side by side
For smooth ride even in a harsh tide
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 27, 2018

PRINCE 1

It started like child’s play
As you listened to the naught I say
It started like a fake dream
A soothing balm on hurt scream
Oh a snail’s pace would have won
If it was a competition started by a horn
But you did creep in, somehow

II
Now I am left thinking
Whether the thought of approach was that thinking
Or an afterthought
Bought after a will’s fought
Never think me sly
Truly I am an innocentia in that dawning fort
But I did feel, on your thoughts, high
As the mind pricked to answers sought

III
Unfortunately there was a jolt
Abruptly made by a revelation
Which to many might be blessings
But to this mind, a warning
Blame not the you
Who saw the fingers which wore not your ring
Its head was crowned and damaged long ago
By the cursed royalty of adulthood
Making firmness one of her many flaws

IV
If there was ever a prince I envisaged
Standing close, shadow to shadow, in the light of sunset
That was you no matter how brief
If there was ever a peace in fantasy
Ridden by chariots of my dreams
You promised a perfect companion
I just hope, decisions like mine
Will not separate the handshake of friendship
Built on tickets of hard trust
This is me, one in much
A soul difficult to see
Seen by your expert eyes
But fate has written a perfect script
In whose ink on my loving sheets, you are hardly seen
I just hope you are blessed with a me
No matter how rare
Who will squeeze out all the love there is
To blend with yours into your mortal eternity
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 26, 2018

MEOWS TO ROARING

Once there was a lion
Who chanced upon cats in their Zion
It saw the fear his picture booked
And thought if it could scarily be looked
Then surely forever it would reign
So its roaring, was day and night’s rain
As day walked into a frightening week
The cats shivered but noted its weak
One was able to gather and say
Fear crushes but needs a pay
So they did gather their pain into rage
And came to be, on same same page
Their voices did merge
And drove lion on panic verge
It run and run and run and fell
Into a ditch which rocks did sell
And so it was that the meows roared
And in their victory, they rightly soared
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 23, 2018

HAPPINESS

Happiness is always an art
Using the senses to break hurdicular fences
Happiness is always within
Waking smiles even in painful miles

II
Happiness is seeing the beauty through the filth
Hearing the rhythms through the chaos
Feeling the air through the hurricanes
Loving you in surrounding hate
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 22, 2018

ASSEMBLIES OF GOD OFFINSO

Maybe my engine of worship needs oiling
Maybe I have, like Satan, been alienated
By blasphemous thoughts which have walked miles from my past
Throwing the bitter dust of yesteryears into my spectacled eyes
Maybe I am a stranger in a manger of convincing
But why me?
The smiling sky with fair air
Is not the mirror reflection of countenances
Forcefully wearing makeup of worship
Need written on the almost completely feminine congregation
I could see the acts of sheepdom
Kneeling and pleading for whatever their hidden hearts pin
I can see the goat acts
Shouting in pride with a parcel of confidence
That spells heaven-at-all-cost
But reeking, had-it-not-been-for-Bra Kwame
I can see the dog acts on minds shaped to need companies
To build more mouths than their storages worth
The few male commodities reeking of honey of self importance
I can see the over possessive female cocks
Yearning for attention through tongues they themselves believe not
Why can’t any sweat shine with perfumed oil?
I guess their pockets have week after week been weeded and burnt
Just for the space and beautification we see
Look at the dukus garnishing heads in entirety,
In halves,
And those with previous mermaid hairs in inviting head garnishing
Poor group, hoping at least for cuddles in their hurdles
With eyes purely spiritual and none realistic
No, poor me with a soul so lost
A mind so going to hell’s peak of heat
A heart detested by the heavens
A pure black sheep among white souls,
Only with skins of blackness seen by stained mortals,
Like that lost sheep which will either be caught by wolves
Or fall in a ditch
Or killed by mere thorns
Who am I to ever, ever see and think
Let alone talk about the heavily suited shepherd with deafening mic
Whose skin might be raining into his ovened shirt
As he leads his sheep through shouting and translations?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 21, 2018

A SOOTHING RAP

Clouds are clearing in this dark
I can see the hazy moon flanked by its numerous stars
Light rays, with their toes, make visible many a mark
But breakages have arrested almost all bars
Shaking in collapsing
Freeing hope of its masking

II
I can see in drying, tears of dawn
I can see in heating, its chilling cold
I know the webs of morn will by the sun be withdrawn
And I can see the right light hold
So climbing filth upon hurts, hate upon chills
Do fill my quills

III
There is a new world rising
There is a new joy swimming up
There are new love smiling
There is a new, a new life map
Nostalgia builds up excitement and all I hear is a soothing rap
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 19, 2018

ALWAYS MY BABY IN MY HEART

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

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

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

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

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

THE TREE OF AUCC

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

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

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

Photo Credit: Google Pics

IN GRATITUDE

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

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

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

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

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

IN MY BODY TEMPLE

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

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

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

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

FLY YOUR LAST

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

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

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

ALL THIS LOVE FOR TRUMP

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

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

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

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

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

ROUGH

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

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

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

I DO YOU, DON’T DO ME

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

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

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

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

The Sightful Caruthers Tetteh

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

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

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

BREAKING THE BREAKING

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

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

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

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 18

Boadu thought hard about his actions and inactions contributing to the tension in the palace. He started drinking heavily but could not vent on Nyamekye no matter how much he gulped down. It was as though even his reflexes were well aware of her stature now. In his stupor, he thought he had dreamt of telling Kumnipa everything; about the feelings of the princess for him, his stupid jealousy resulting in her falling out of love with his personality, his foolish act of telling the first couple of the big Apemso Kingdom about his private life and the fact that he felt like an out of use plate before telling the King and queen all that but had upgraded into rubbish. He opened his eyes with a bad headache only to see himself on the bench in the biggest hall of Daakyehene’s palace. Boadu rushed to his abode in the brink of the night.
Kumnipa thought long about all that he heard from Boadu and put two and two together. He had been a fool with Otwereduampong by his side, always winning his battles both on the field and in his personal life but for the first time, he felt afraid. The mere thought of Ama getting caught up in the royal mess cut through him like a poisonous sword. It was close to cockcrow and he had not slept a wink. Just when he decided to pick his sword from a pile behind a wooden partition in his big hall to practice to ward off time, he saw them, three assassins tip toeing to God knows where. He followed them barefooted only to know their intention, they were obviously looking for Ama. He quickly retreated to his hall, checked on Ama and realized she was still sleeping.
Seconds later, swords argued in front of his room and he knew the visitors had located their target, probably didn’t think they’d get any form of opposition. He rushed to the place and helped in fighting them. Two were killed, the other was arrested. There was no familiar face but Kumnipa was determined to find out their boss or bosses. He hid him in the hollow cave beneath his palace only to see him dead by morning, he bit his own tongue.
Daakyehene thought of openly confronting the rulers of the land but stopped out of courtesy and diplomacy. He thought of facing Nyamekye but stopped himself in respect of her pride and proceeded to think deeply about the matter. Who would want to kill Ama? No matter how he thought of it, only the queen could have tried the gimmick. The king knew Ama too well to send those weak boys to eliminate her. He decided to play with the gods of the land by telling Kissi the Drunkard about it.
If I get you correctly, you mean to tell me that the princess has a secret husband and you are just the ceremonial husband? Well, then it means three things: you either want to test the slipperiness of my tongue, or are indirectly sending me out there to plant rumours or just plainly and stupidly think I am drunk because of how unstable I look so might forget everything by morning. Either ways, I feel sorry for you. If it is the first, you surely might see me failing that test on a bad day, if it is the second, then you are just being chisel, who sends a drunk on a mission without a proper payment? Don’t you know drunkards are at par with royals and seers? There is no way you will visit their minds without a big gourd of nsa din or ka bi kyere w’ase. If it is the third then you are the stupidest person of the land to judge my mind based on my unstable body. Whatever you think you need, speak either clearly or in kind to choose.”,
Kumnipa gave him enough cowries to buy him more than a hundred palm trees and left. “It is a true story and he needs me to plant rumours on the minds of the people of Apemso. He definitely is caught between Nana Bonsam and Sasrabonsam. Such a treasonous act by the very buttocks on the biggest stools!” Kissi thought. “But how can a prince who has it all agree to such terms of marriage when he knows the children of a slave will inherit him? He must have a dark secret“. Kissi stopped drinking and started pondering. He thought about his life and the fact that even his wife who disrespects him every now and then could never cheat on him let alone make him act in that despicable manner. “True, cloth covereth rots”. Kissi, sober as the day he was born, walked straight to his house, shocked to the bone.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

GIVING YOU UP

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

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

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

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

PRISONERS IN OURSELVES

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

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

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

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

Female Role Models: Joyce Ati’isetue Aziabah

Joyce Ati’isetue Aziabah popularly known as Jay is a 29 year old corporate executive and a budding entrepreneur. She is the founder and co-founder of Batakari and Notti Shito respectively. She is a native of Kandiga, a village in the Kasena/Nankana West District of the Upper East region.

Jay, the last of five children, is passionate about social responsibility and believes our conscious communal efforts in getting things done the right way will make the world a better place – thus every human being is a collective catalyst of positive change.

As a style enthusiast, her self created favorite style quote is ….
“A fusion of mood and attitude tuned into garments is style”.

She holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Management Studies from the University of cape Coast and a post graduate degree in Human Resource Management from GIMPA.

Jay is a believer of The Word of God and a Catholic. Her mother is her “push button” and she derives inspiration from happenings around her on a regularly basis.

She likes to eat fufu on weekdays and TZ on weekends.

She is also inspired by the quote “BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH TO SEE AND EXPERIENCE.” Jay is a role model.

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 17

Fowls roamed freely in homes and outside sometimes daring to share meals with humans, always threatened and flew to throw revenge dust into people’s eyes. They defecated at odd places to give humans some work. As people prepared places for their roosting, water to quench their thirst, they killed some to prepare delicious soups or stews when need be. Goats fought their owners and their neighbours to pay them back for the fragrant soups they murder their mothers and fathers for, knowing they stand chances of falling into same fate, yet Apemso laid as it were. People died day in and out, were bathed and prepared for burial, placed on bamaso overnight and sent off into the ground. Others were born and welcomed to stay with the help of dawn, nsa din and water. Forget about the few children seers asked to be sent to the evil forest for either a possession or a fault unseen by ordinary eyes, life was playing itself in normalcy in Apemso. Ohene Asaa heard cases ranging from theft, abuse, gossips, curses, murder, to list but few. Ohemaa Abrampah went about her business normally, all royals and those associated with them doing their best to paint a perfect picture of the palace. Within, nothing seemed right. Nyamekye’s relationship with her parents was bad. She avoided them like plagues, avoided Kumnipa, Boadu and Ama and kept mostly to herself. She could vanish from the palace for days, getting the first couple worried.
Ohemaa Abrampah could not help it. She called Boadu in front of her husband. “If a precious gift is given to you, you surely must let it shine. How irresponsible are you to let your wife’s depression get to this level? Did we give our only daughter to you in privacy to make her avoid us in the plain sight of our people? What makes you so powerful as to put royals as powerful as us on our toes for all the bad reasons? Speak up or face our fury!
Boadu shivered as he knelt and burst out crying like a baby in front of them. “Ohemaa, forgive me, but her depression does not stem from the loss of our child. There is nothing I haven’t done to let the princess look at me as she used to but all have failed. Sadly, her heart left me even before our baby, our baby, our poor baby was born dead. I live under a roof with her but hardly see her. From what I know, she is avoiding everyone because of the love she has developed for Daakyehene Kumnipa.”
Mother and father screamed at once. They were so petrified at the thought that even Boadu was startled out of his misery.
I beg your royal pardon but after thinking about it very well, I realized I needed to let you know the truth to find ways of injecting happiness into the heart of the princess. That is how selfless my love for her is.”
He was immediately dismissed. Ohemaa and Ohene kept looking at each other’s faces not knowing what to do. “This may be a blessing Nana. Let’s immediately banish or eliminate Ama and get Kumnipa together with our precious daughter.”
Ohene Asaa for the first time raised his voice at her. “How can you suggest this cruel method of dealing with a situation like this? You are a mother too, how can you suggest we kill a child who has been nothing short of a daughter to us? A warrior who is the first female to brave the odds and lead men to war? How can you call yourself a mother?”
It is because I am a mother that I think the way I do. Motherhood is just like ownership. No matter how bad you feel towards another at her loss, you find ways of protecting yours under your wings no matter how cruel it would be. Why do you think some mothers give their lives for their children? Yours is yours. Do you want us to sit and watch our only daughter die?”
Ohene Asaa left her presence in anger.
Ama felt strange. She didn’t know how it felt like to be sick but she felt unwell. Kumnipa brought her to his chambers and cared for her all through the night. He called the royal doctors to have a look at her. The royal doctor became afraid after seeing Ama in his bed (a leak could kill him either ways. The king would have him killed if it was later revealed he knew and didn’t tell, Kumnipa could also have him silenced if word got out there about it) but took care of her without complaints praying to the gods of the land to keep him safe. She was far advanced in pregnancy. Only three moons to go. Kumnipa was happy and jumped up and down to the surprise of all, shouting “I am going to be a father! I am going to be a father!” By the time Ama could seal his mouth with her hands, almost all his guards had heard and had gathered, kneeling in congratulations. He ordered them to keep it a secret.
Ama dressed like the warrior she was, concealing her belly in an all round cloak. She went to greet the king and realized he had bloodshot eyes, wanted to console him but didn’t know how. She left only to bump into Ohemaa Abrampah at the hallway. Ohemaa refused to respond to her greetings and asked her to stay away from her husband, the king. Ama was so hurt that tears began to trickle down her face. Kumnipa, who was entering saw them, rushed to check if Ama felt sick only to hear Ohemaa Abrampah “The earlier you do away with her, the better for all of us. You are Daakyehene of this great land, play time should be over soon.” Kumnipa was so shocked and confused to speak. He just hugged Ama, and begged her not to listen. He took Ama to sleep in his bed, asked his strongest guards to be with her when she finally slept and took a stroll that evening.
Even the beautiful fireflies having a convention in the strong grass close to the market square, could do nothing to improve his mood. Seeing Ama sad felt like an arrow in his chest, watching her cry felt so unreal. And hearing what his mother in law said moulded goosebumps on his black skin. He sat on a log close to the market square as his guards followed from far. A drunkard sat beside him, he signaled his guards to let him be. “I have seen it all, from spirits walking in the night to royals acting like stray dogs. What ails the prince of this great land to have him sit here like a lost drunkard?”
Kissi, I watched my woman cry today and I feel very sad. I didn’t think she could cry, well I know women cry but I thought she was a different kind of woman.”
Kissi the drunk laughed out loud. “Daakyehene you are still young and foolish, no, inexperienced, hehe. Women cry for different reasons. A woman can cry even for the foolishness of her opponents, they can be rivals or husbands, in laws or friends. A woman’s tears has many interpretations. If you like take a closer look. She cries when happy, cries when sad, cries when anxious, and even cries seeing some others cry. No matter what, a woman’s strength is not measured by her tears. You do that at your own risk. Give me some cowries or gold coins to buy some drinks. I have impacted knowledge on you.” Kumnipa gave him what he requested for and he left. He then thought of what Ohemaa Abrampah said. On what basis did she say that? Was it connected to Boadu’s sadness on the day he lost his child? Boadu must definitely know something. Kumnipa stood and resolved to see Boadu to alleviate his fears.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©Sept. 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

IN PARTING: Honouring Atukwei Okai

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

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

Photo Credit: Google Pics

THE GREAT OVERSEER

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

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 16

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

Photo Credit: Google Pics

A LIE

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

BARK TO BRIGHTEN

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

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

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

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

THE TREE OF HOPELESSNESS

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

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

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

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

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

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 15

The Apemso warriors settled close to the Ahanta Kingdom. The seer poured libation, fortified them from harm, appeased the gods and gave them his blessings to pass through the evil forest. Many of the warriors were afraid. There were sounds of different birds but that of hooting owls compounded their fear because of the superstitious belief that they are connected to doom. Some were afraid of fearful carnivorous animals coming from no where to pounce on them. As for snakes, they were fortified against their venom so feared not. Ama just walked as though she was walking in the palace. All the warriors, except Kwabena Okore, looked at her to see if there was any sign of fear whenever there was a strange sound, but she showed none. In the second week of their journey, deep into the evil forest where trees could look like monstrous animals and thorns showed themselves in different shades, she knelt abruptly and held something. It was a cobra. She held its neck and tail and suffocated it to death, even her brother was shocked. After that, it looked like all the warriors became her disciples.

Nyamekye was asked to rest after the six hour collapsed scare. She was not to get out of bed talk less of doing something. She was to even be cleaned in her bed. Kumnipa touched her hands to wish her strength. Surprisingly, she had goosebumps all over her body. He told Boadu to let the doctors know she was feeling cold and left. Nyamekye closed her eyes when Kumnipa left. No matter what her man did, she refused to open them. A thought dawned on Boadu.

Once they settled in Ahanta, in their evil forest, they planned their attack. Direct attack could mean innocent people would die. Drawing out the warriors in a fair warning could be disastrous. They thought around the situation for days with no ready answer. Then one of the warriors, Osai, looked at Ama. “Let’s dress Ama as a maiden to lure the prince here. Then we’d seize him, call the bluff of the king and attack the palace when he least expects.” Opoo who was second in command disagreed saying Ama was too much of a tomboy to pull that off. Instead, they should attack the palace in the brink of the night. They sent spies to check the security power of the palace. They sent ears to know where the crown prince loved to be in the evening and when the king enjoyed his palm wine most. They sent hands to dig the ground into the palace, burying gun powder without being noticed. The latter proved difficult and extended their stay. Nonetheless it was done.
They attacked the palace exactly two moons after they had settled. They were able to kill half of their opposing guarding warriors before their presence was noticed. Many warriors came to the scene and it turned into a battlefield. Opoo whistled to let the ear on wait know they were in danger as the few warriors of Apemso who went on the mission fought. Ama was part. They fought with their swords and were overpowered by the many Ahanta warriors. Surrounded, Ama signalled her people to close their eyes. She wore a body tight leather with a long cotton cloth behind like a cloak. Some of her colleagues wanted to know why but the few got to know why on that spot. She jumped, pulled out the cloak and used it to sweep the dust off the ground. It was a lot of dust as it had not rained since they settled in. Before the opposing warriors could work on the dust in their eyes, she had killed more than seventy of them and wounded more than fifty. Opoo and the others also cleared more than hundred of them. They lost a warrior in the confusion but were not deterred. At that point, the few left retreated into the palace. Ama told them not to enter as it would give them the advantage because they knew better all the corners in their palace. She asked for a retreat outside the building, made fire with stones after locating the gun powder they had buried into the palace and lighted it. It travelled straight into the palace and blasted, scaring all within to rush out. All the warriors who came out were killed because all the warriors of Apemso had joined them. Those who had dignity fought to their death. The king, crown prince, queen and all the princesses were captured alive, tied and sent to Apemso, by the smooth road.
The warriors composed a chanting poem for Ama:
There are warriors and there are warriors
Ama is the king of all the warriors
A woman with the heart of a lioness
In her hands we are all safe
Apemso!!! We have the best so we can always rest
Ama wanted them to stop but her brother told her to allow as that was their way of life. Kwabena Boadu pleaded with Opoo to chant in honour of the King when they got to the palace. He didn’t want his sister to be misunderstood by the king. They chanted and chanted until they reached Apemso. Many of the people of Apemso came out wearing white clothing in celebration of the victory.
Kumnipa was in his wooden bathing bowl when he heard they had come. He picked his cloth and went out without as much as towelling himself. Seeing as Ama was on the shoulders of many warriors being hailed, his first reaction was jealousy. Boadu noticed the tears in Nyamekye’s eyes after hearing Ama and the warriors were in. She felt all sorts of emotions. On one hand, she didn’t wish for the death of her bosom friend and sister from another mother, on another, she wished she had cleared any impediment between Kumnipa and herself including Boadu. She felt inhuman. Boadu rushed and stood by the warriors. He saw the anger in Kumnipa’s eyes and rushed to restrain him from embarrassing himself further as the water dripping from his body was enough. The warriors went to the King’s palace and called on him with their conquests. The king was happy, called the head seer to come and bless them, told them of the feast he’d put together in their honour and dispatched them after imprisoning the fresh slaves.
Kumnipa went to his chambers and waited. He waited and waited but there was no sign of Ama. He went to her chambers only to be told the king sent for her. He sat on her bed and waited. When she entered and saw him, he was furious. “Who is the most important person to you Ama?” He fumed. Ama just went past him, heard the near croak in his throat and his stiffness and hugged him from behind.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 14

Rains made sure to visit at least twice in a week. The weather was fair, with the sun having a great understanding with rains, causing the air to be what the people of Apemso loved. In a world where war and conquering gave more power than anything else; the conquered bringing food stuffs to the winning palace every season, paying in gold, sharing their game, providing soldiers and slaves when need be, the Ahantas made it clear they’d fight tooth and nails to maintain their freedom. With a vast and fertile land, strong warriors and an ambitious king, their war with Apemso was a must and both kings knew it. The Ahantas had tried ambushing Apemso but failed miserably due to a tip off from Ohene Asaa’s spies planted in their kingdom. It was becoming dangerous, so the king told Kumnipa to help train the warriors to prepare for war.
Kumnipa arranged the training with Kwabena Okore and Ama. At first, some of the warriors protested. “How can we be trained by a mere woman? Why degrade us so?” Kumnipa told them to fight to justify their sentiments. The first warrior could not last thirty seconds before falling under Ama’s sword, the second just lifted his sword and fell out of fear when he felt the tip of her sword by his throat, the rest just agreed to be trained by her. Her brother was super proud of her. Kwabena Okore, who was the head of the warriors, watched as his sister, Ama Adjeibea Okore trained other warriors. She was named “Goddess of the Sword” by all the warriors. Kumnipa could not take his eyes off her, as he sat supervising the training and all the warriors noticed. Over three thousand warriors were trained.
Nyamekye could barely see Kumnipa and Ama. All she heard was, they were spotted here laughing or playing heartily, or they adorably competed on the field of training. She felt sad thinking they were more suited for each other but broke her own heart knowing the feelings growing for the one person she rejected even before he fought for her hand. The secret feelings ate away the fabrics of her peace and made her unhealthy.
Ohemaa Abrampah looked at the fine clothes woven for the birth of her grandchild in happiness. Suddenly, a thought came to her. What if Ama conceived the children of the crown prince? Won’t he find ways of making them compete with Nyamekye’s children for the throne? She rushed to her husband’s chambers and voiced her opinion. Ohene Asaa listened as she suggested medicine to destroy the womb of the Goddess of the Sword. He got angry and forbade her from harming a hair on her head. According to Ohene Asaa, even if she did conceive, everyone would know she was the illegitimate wife of Kumnipa, why will they ever consider children like that? But Ohemaa felt uneasy because Ama had become one revered even more than the king.
Kwabena Okore led the warriors to war and took Ama with him. Kumnipa protested but Ohemaa Abrampah convinced Ohene Asaa to allow it. They were gone for over one moon and Kumnipa missed her so much. He had attempted to sneak to their settlement but was stopped by his special guard given by the queen. Nyamekye lighted up anytime Kumnipa went to visit her but felt sad seeing the far look in his eyes. It did not take long to make her see that only a body visited her without a soul and spirit. She sunk into depression.

Ohene Asaa thought about the report of the royal doctors an concluded it was because she missed her man. He called Boadu’s mother for a confidential meeting.
Madam, I called you here to tell you it is dangerous for a child to play with fire. It is also dangerous for the King’s eyes to notice one’s flaws. It is bad for the earth to compare itself to the sky when its eyes always look up to it for the retention of its living things. One who keeps well the treasure of a superior, stands to gain, vice versa is a death trap. Your son has mistakenly pinched my heart and caused me to see blood in my loving mirror. The only reason he still breathes, is my daughter who loves him endlessly. I will let somebody take you to where he is. Be sure to speak to his senses before I give him that second chance with her. Know that the scrotum of the wise will never suffer, sɛbi sɛbi, a foolish man’s mischievous feet twice. You may leave.”
Auntie Mansa whose head was bowed in shame all through thanked him and apologized for the behaviour of her wayward son and left. She cried till she reached her son’s destination. She refused food. Her bloodshot eyes made Boadu worried.
It is a bad son who will do deeds that would wipe his family off the face of the earth. Who at all bites the fingers that feed him? If one is lucky like you are, he needs to always worship the feet of the gods, be righteous and stay loyal and faithful to the very object of his blessings. Kwabena Boadu, you have disgraced me! As I knelt in front of the king, all I could do was apologize to your dead father in the land of the dead. Of what use is an ego when it can buy no bread? Of what use is a man’s honour, when all it can do is produce slaving children? Haven’t you heard about forefathers sacrificing to make their future generations live comfortably? Isn’t it even an honour for someone like you to be Her Majesty’s guard talk less of her man?”
Mother and son cried, the former in admonishment, the latter in remorse. The spy’s account of the encounter between mother and son satisfied the king. He brought a changed Boadu to the palace.
Nyamekye merely smiled upon seeing him. A tired and weary smile. There was no enthusiasm, no happiness. Kwabena Boadu woke up at dawn, knelt to apologize to her. She did accept the apology but was still distant. Boadu felt it could be because of the discomfort with the pregnancy. He resolved to treat her better in order to gain her love once more. When both men met, Boadu apologized to Kumnipa, who surprisingly held no grudge against him. He rather felt happy that he made him discover his true love. He couldn’t wait for the estimated moon to end to get to meet his heartbeat. Fantasies drove on fantasies as to how he’d welcome her. And the thought of her presence brought him warmth. He went to the shrine each dawn to pray for her safety. On one of such visits, he heard “Odiahenkan! Odiahenkan! Her Majesty has collapsed again!”
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 13

Ohene Asaa sat by his daughter all through the night with the three top herbal doctors praying to the over seventy seven thousand gods and goddesses of the land to save his lifeline. At exactly thirteen minutes after four at dawn, Nyamekye opened her eyes. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. The doctors checked and confirmed she was stable and left her with her father.
How is my beautiful princess?” She told him she was fine and apologized for causing him to worry. Ohene Asaa took her right hand in his and looked at her face.
Maame, I am sorry for any stress you are going through because of the actions and or inactions of anyone. Only Odomankomah the creator knows what you mean to me. Why didn’t you tell me you were having a hard time with Boadu? They say painful bottled emotions burst brains. Do you want to harm yourself and cause your father to lose his everything?”
“Paapa, I am fine. Boadu and I have no serious problems”.
Don’t I know the seed which comes from the most loving part of my body? If all is well then why didn’t you ask of him when you woke up? Certainly the fear of he causing you more grief is what you dread. Any way, I have sent him to a safe house two villages away. You know Amankrom? If you wan’t me to dispose of him…”
“No paapa, we are talking about my husband here. What kind of disposal are you talking about? We might have our differences but it hasn’t gotten to that yet. Let’s do it this way, let him stay in the safe house for sometime to keep our distance to see if the spark we had from the beginning will be rekindled. I believe a little time apart is all we need.
Ohene Asaa looked at his daughter and sighed in exasperation. Her wishes were his command anyway. He asked her to have some rest. Immediately Ohene Asaa left, Nyamekye asked one of her maidens to go and inform Kumnipa that she was awake and well. For some queer reason, she felt or hoped he’d be worried about her. The maiden came back few minutes later and knelt to tell her he did not sleep in his chambers at all. A worker there claimed that was the very first time it was happening. Nyamekye felt strange and asked her trusted maiden, Efua, to go to Ama’s chambers to inform her and ask if she had seen Kumnipa.
Ama opened her eyes to see she was face to face with Kumnipa whose eyelids were shut but shaking. She mockingly touched his face until he opened his eyes, caught her hands and passionately kissed her. “You know this is the first time you have submitted to me? Allowing me to seize your hand. You’re most beautiful when you let me win.” Ama giggled and mimicked him, feigning anger, he asked her why.
An honourable man is he who seeks fair skills to compete on levelled ground. Not one who needs to climb on another to feel superior”. Kumnipa made to speak, she put her forefinger on his lips. “Dignity comes not by having a woman who kneels and worships at your feet at all times, but having a woman who completes you, runs with you when need be, combats to stabilize and tickle your emotions, a woman whose deeds and talents can honour you. A woman who shakes the very foundations of your care and sacrifices. It is amazing how society makes us building mud, stepped on, watered and used to build easily breakable structures for men to inhabit. Look at how many mock me for daring to be a warrior. I can’t even begin to tell you about the ridiculous things that happened and how my father stood to keep my head on my neck”.
Kumnipa was shocked that a woman could think the way she does. She felt like she had uncovered something society did not know or was failing to acknowledge. Or could it be that Ama is just different from the helping hands he had grown to know? He suddenly felt sad that she had to go through all that. He thought of it seriously. Women too have talents. Talents men’s need for submission sweeps under the dark. He kissed her forehead and started foreplay to continue the loving passions lighted last night. A knock on the door interfered. Ama waited until one of the guards announced Efua’s presence. Ama made to leave the bed but Kumnipa asked that she be brought to the hall to speak by the door. Efua told Ama that the princess was awake and asked if the crown prince was with her. Ama was completely at sea as to what she was talking about but answered okay and sent her back.
Why is Nyamekye sending me a message that she is awake?”
Oh! Should have told you yesterday, she collapsed. Something about exhaustion.” Ama immediately left the bed pushing off Kumnipa in anger. She asked him why he didn’t remember that important matter. She felt guilty at the happiness she felt as her best friend and sister from other parents laid comatosed. She wore her warrior attire and threw his clothes at him to get dressed. They both left for the princess’ chambers.
Nyamekye felt strange seeing them together. Their body language told of happiness blooming between the two. They touched each other while talking, smiled at each other often and completed the sentences of eachother. Kumnipa played with the warrior clothes Ama was wearing. The warrior clothes made out of the skin of animals. He was very attentive to Ama.
Ama realized her discomfort and asked where Boadu was. She told them he had been sent on an errand by the king and intentionally complained of tiredness. Ama and Kumnipa left her to rest as they happily chatted and giggled.
Nyamekye felt oddly sad. She didn’t understand her emotions. She was the one who pestered Ama to make it work with Kumnipa so didn’t know what was happening to her emotions. She knew the close relationship the two had bothered her, as to why, she was yet to ascertain. Cold fear crept into her heart, making her heart beat as though chased by some recklessness on her part.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Sept. 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

ONTO THE NEXT

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

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

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

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

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

IN THIS NEST CALLED EARTH

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

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

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

IN THE SHOES OF GOD 12

Even the gods are discriminatory. One needs wealth, a good family, extreme talent or fame to be well treated by them. Poverty is definitely the worse plaque a human can have” Boadu stood looking through the window pouring his melancholic words as Nyamekye sat listening. She was broken hearted hearing his words and knowing his stance on the matter. How her own beloved husband wanted the downfall of her father, one who had given him everything he had, his only child, bullied her mind. Boadu had been distant, uncaring, cheeky and annoying with his many sarcastic replies to her attempts at making meaningful conversations with him. She had stopped trying to and had resorted to pleasing his every request. Her maids were beginning to notice and she felt very afraid in her heart. “Was she supposed to try to marry Kumnipa? Was she supposed to renounce her royalty to be with Boadu? Would he have behaved the way he is doing if she had done that?” These and many more questions run through her mind. The scariest thing that slowly crept into her mind was “He started the rumours”. Her heart was shivering and suddenly, she fell, unconscious.
Ohemaa Abrampah was alarmed as she looked at her daughter. She looked pale, stressed and thin. She asked all of them to leave and stripped her down to her nakedness. What greeted her eyes baffled her to no end. She was far advanced in pregnancy. If she was not wrong, she could be in her seventh month already. She put some clothes on her and called on the chief herbalist; a short wrinkled old man with white beard and a humility that disarmed even the most angry. Opanyin Akora went on his knees when he saw how furious the queen was. He neither tried to retort or look at her. He just knelt there as she rained her disappointments, threats and anger on him. He was to appear before the king to answer to the deceit. Meanwhile, no hair on her head was supposed to be harmed. Boadu sat in the hall as the queen left, she didn’t as much as try to look at him.
Kumnipa rushed to Nyamekye’s room, saw Boadu seated in the hall but rushed up only to be told she had not regained consciousness. He just looked at her lying on the bed and realized she was pale and thin. He made to leave but Boadu asked for an audience. At first, he was furious. A mere slave impudently asking for an audience with him? But he thought of Ama and her behaviour if she heard he had fought someone like Boadu and just agreed. He asked his guards to leave them to talk to their shock. Boadu took him to the warrior field and stood watching the palace, his back to the crown Prince. “I want to ask you how you feel? I mean, you are a crown prince and degraded to fathering the children of another man. Doesn’t it hurt your ego? Is there no stone in your catapult?” Kumnipa thought of ways of punishing Boadu for the insult but was afraid to try anything. In the first place, he felt like a stranger in a palace he was to take over, secondly, he didn’t want to deepen the rift between Ama and himself. He thought hard and also noted his father’s shame if he misbehaved with a common slave. He remembered the adage; when there is an opening on an anthill, any animal whose size fits enters. “Was that all you wanted to say or ask? If that is all, then I ask that we end it here because I have a lot on my hands.” He left as Boadu taunted: “Coward! Tuesday Weeder! A maimed human like you! Shameless man!” His tears were flooding in himself. He was suffocating. He headed straight to Ama’s room.
Ohene Asaa was furious! He summoned the chief herbalist and threatened to behead him. All the heads of the herbal section were called and interviewed one after the other. Only three people knew about it. The woman in charge of taking care of the princess, Akoto, Akora himself and the head of the pregnancy unit, Oman. “Otumfuor, in respect and the greatest fear, I dare to say her majesty swore us to secrecy. We tried our best in order not to incur her wrath. You know a woman with child needs to be obeyed for her internal peace. We are only guilty because we are weak in defiance.
Shut up you disrespectful woman! Are you saying we are blaming you on no basis because you are powerless? Do you want me to call the executioners?” Ohemaa Abrampah fumed. Ohene Asaa went to hug his queen right before the three. They all bowed their heads. They needed not be told to leave the hall.
What Akoto said is true but she needs to be punished for being too blunt in front of a queen of your stature. We can’t in any way blame them if Nyamekye actually did order them not to say anything. Why do you think she did it?”
Ohemaa Abrampah thought hard as she fought her tears. “Could it be the stress that useless slave is putting her through?
Ohene Asaa nearly had a heart attack hearing what his queen said. He had thought he’d be the one to worship the ground on which she walked, not one to make her miserable. After all, one who reaches fruits on a tree on the shoulders of others needs to always take care of the shoulders on which he stands, to avoid a deadly fall. Was it worth it? Was that slave worth the heartaches in the palace? He summoned Boadu.
I hear a fly is buzzing at a bee and I am saddened. Places in life are there for a reason. A fortunate tree should always look down its roots before shaking its branches. Boadu, why have you been making my daughter miserable?
Boadu knelt before him shivering. He couldn’t as much as look at him. “So it is true? You are a complete human without a brain. I will be merciful in beheading you and all your family members. For now, you are to leave this palace to a location I will choose until my daughter is well. Woe will fall onto you and your entire family if anything happens to her. Just pray that nothing happens to her. Leave my presence you ingrate!
Boadu scuffled out.
Ama stood and welcomed him. Kumnipa just looked at her. The silence was loud. In their bid to break it, both spoke at once. “I am sorry”. It was too awkward that they both broke out laughing. Ama, wearing a beautiful dress, her hair beautifully plaited could not look at Kumnipa. He found himself wondering if that was his tomboy. She looked feminine, charming and beautifully attractive. “I was going to look for you. I am actually surprised you’re here. Sorry for…” He took her chin with his right hand and forced her eyes to meet his. Ama knew then that he had completely fallen for her. He needed not say anything. The tears that stood in his eyes that looked at her in love, the veins that showed on his skin, the goosebumps that paraded on his skin, melted all her defenses. He put his lips on hers first, then stopped to look at her again. As if by magic, their mouths met, passionate kisses, shedding clothes, exploring bodies, merging as one. Finally, the warrior’s warrior had lost her innocence. She neither regretted nor sulked. She felt complete just as he did and they slept in each other’s arms.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

Female Role Models: Essoyomèwè Adamagnon

Essoyomèwè ADAMAGNON is youth motivator, moral and civic trainer. She has over 4 years of experience in social leadership. She is committed to quality and accessible education in Togo. She volunteered within the past two years in social and community development to help her community out of its societal issues. Essoyomèwè holds a Bachelor Degree in African literature. She is a goal driven individual who is self-motivated and always thinks about finding solutions to societal problems. She is calm but she is a very dynamic and hard working lady. Currently, she is a trainer of middle school civic clubs and motivator in Youth Awake-Togo where she focuses on educating youth on fiscal transparency, civic engagement and citizenship. She is also a volunteer in The Togolese Center of Training and Documentation on Human Rights. She pleads toward institutions for the benefit of civil society, raising society awareness on many issues. She has successfully trained and motivated over 200 students on the area of career development, academic studies, and helped over 20 people make their nationalities. She teaches also on the importance of identity documents and the process of their elaboration. She was awarded in US Embassy-Lome for her dedication and outstanding services in June 2017. The Young African Leaders award for 2017 fiscal education and transparency in Togo. Now, she is looking upon building a library in her community in order to promote accessible education for all and attain quality education in her beloved country Togo and later on in Africa. Esso is a role model worthy of emulation.

JUBILATING SADNESS

Oh you tears

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

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