Her face is pale

Her breast has turned stale

No great air for her weak children to inhale

All her knights have decided not to bail

Her strong children, like brainless goats, fail

As all her fishes are turned into “koobi and momoni” 

Cooked and fried, others will eat, love, breathe and exhale


A hit on others for their freedom, they hail

Wannabe livers have turned to their tails

As rebels are thrown in horror wardens’ jail

Oh why justice, like Jesus, is nailed

As lies and rubbish is parcelled and mailed

 “Omanba mapa” I rise so quailed


If only greed will turn into rubber and sail

Into a hell where it can burn and fail

As mouths with needs are shut from many a tale

Then even the blind can be provided a braille

To read and know all right from wrong

And like humans boxed out of a veil

Success will out and lead her state

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Mama Africa’s curves for her beautiful carvings

 Is also part of her starvings

I can’t believe the multitudes

Of capable minds, which have been smoked like fishes

Slapped like idiots Raped like animals and

Burnt like firewoods in hot kitchens


 Minds which could have stopped her looting

Minds which could have clothed her nakedness

Minds which could have fought for her stance

To keep her own and grant others loans

 Minds which could have attracted congregants

 Minds which could have urged on the best

Minds which could have loved her ways

Refined her dismays And cast her rays

 On the best of her days

All these minds burnt and buried

 Like abominables meant for the ground


I wish they were like spilt waters

 Would have wanted to mine them

Yes, mine minds who saw it all

To tell tales of the formulas for her fall

So work can start on its refurbishment

To cut the disgrace ornaments

Wrapped around her neck

And replace them with reverence

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Golden shores
With zeal that snores
Mother Ghana calls for cleaning chores
To shut low confidence doors
Whinning, she abhors

Form a circle
Working for the miracle
Get truthful oracles
Who can trash all obstacles
To rid us of all ridicules

We need to be like the peacocks
Prideful in beauty not like scavenging cocks
Sniffing from carcasses
We need the powerful muscles
To aid our wonderful mouths
And be the speakers which resonate
Let Ama Ghana’s restful days be hailed by shamed gods;
Shamed gods who never believe we can
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Do we need ancestral heads to understand

The lyrics in this patriotic song of ours?

“Yɛn ara asaase ni

ɛyɛ abuↄ dendene ma yɛn

Mogya na nananom hwiee gu nya de too hↄ ma yɛn

Aduru me ne wo nso so

Sɛ yɛbɛ yɛ bi atua so

If blood, precious, were poured to attain this for us

And our time is now  to show but no show

And we put on clothes of selfishness

Clothes of “over knowings”

Clothes of corruption,

Then what do we do with the weeping red blood

From the hot old graves?

What do we do with the hovering short lived

Spirits without bodies to live?

Have we lost shame and consciences for guilt?

How many of us do not shout

When kitchen knives help us

See three drops of our blood?


“⊃man bɛyɛ yie a

Na efiri me ne wo

⊃man bɛyɛ yie a

Na efiri yɛn ara”

I, like a patriotic nightingale, sing

But the moral in the song whips me mercilessly

How can I help?

How can you help?

How can we help?

Since a carpenter cannot build words

And a driver cannot drive nations

I guess we need us and us in what we do

And we need capitalized discipline to drive our cause

As servants serve selflessly,

Let the bosses boss wisely

To help the lyrics in this song close their mouths

Gulp some cool water and rest in satisfaction

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


(Today is World Poetry Day. Let me start my day with a walk with my president. I love and respect the headship because he represents Ghana, my motherland. When things go wrong, writers have the pens. And this is how I choose to use mine today)

Nothing is by mistake

I would’ve said by mistake,

You were chosen to follow,

Then by death’s mistake,

You were chosen, after being pursued, to lead

A young shoot leading a mountain

A star leading suns and moons

A small star ruling the sky

Interesting and all eyes were keen in watching

Many thought your small light

Will make it easier for you to zoom in on the sky

And I can’t say you have not tried!

But then you took on corruptive fireflies

Fireflies hungry to feed

And many see you as one yourself

As for me, I have no voice in the matter

Whether you gathered and others stole

Or gathered and stole with them,

I am no witch to know, so I won’t judge

But all blame heads if legs and hands rebel

Stars can’t shine brighter than the moon

Or sun, that I understand,

But must that be taken literal?

If promises developed long running legs

From your abled-mouth,

Must “dum” accompany your eyes to see?

Upon our walk, we stumbled on a SADA stealing

Upon our walk, we stumbled on a GYEEDA stealing

Upon our walk, many mouths have been shut by failure;

With dum, how many enterprises can stand on weak kwashiorkor legs?

That rumours walk in whispers

Of your familiar richness

Is one of the scary hushnesses

A walk with you has seen many striking deaf and dumps

If even they heard or saw enough to strike

Then which good annals will have your name in ink?

That will be bad business!

But even you claim you are dead and a goat!

Show some respect Amoafowaa!

No one voted for a dead goat

Could it be we struggled for a goat

And killed it before a great occasion?

If this walk will yield any results

It will start from you and end with you

How about getting more passionate Gomashies

How about nailing all the helpless Woyos?

How about cleaning the filth in your cabinet?

This neatness is not literal

Let it start from above

And we below will follow your sync

Ghana is greater than all our hurdles

But a floating ship, no matter how strong,

Will sink on any river or sea

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


imagesMama Ghana,

Are you turning in your grave?

Are we all doomed for the grave?

Have we doom, on your grave, engraved?

Don’t be bitter, we’re all not litter


Mama Ghana,

Be a little content

We hold onto our peace like fishermen and their paddles

Although our ship is in the middle of the unknown

And the storms scare dangerously


Yes, our power is showing us its Power,

It’s true our oil has been manipulated to make us toil

I know our earnings are gobbled by our debts

But cheer us on in hope


You see it all

Your resources in greedy pockets,

I know you see it all,

The corruption which walks in soft shoes

You see it all, our near fall

But be contented, and cheer us on


The 58 we’ve ate

Looks like our souls being eaten

But cheer us on Mama Ghana

We will get a good captain, some day

We will catch all corrupt whisperers, some day

We will get there, some day

We sure will get there; to your satisfaction, some day

So be contented and cheer us on

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015