Vagabond Alluring, Gamer In Nothing, Ashtray!
Who served you onto the African woman in this modern world?
Who made you a begging bowl on the street of love?
Who made you a trap to catch skillful players on this park of coupling?
Do you have a connection to brain cells?

I am tired
Seeing your handwriting on public boards
Wearing pathetic sympathy suffocating hearts to take your side
I am nauseous
Watching you hoarding eggs to jump the hole of singleness
Like an overfed bull being pushed by a dead ant
I am ashamed
Looking on as you take off your covering
Showing your naturally decorous self
Under disgusting spotlights
Just to catch attention of nincompoops
I am saddened
That a holy ground is now a gutter
With spittle of insults mixing fecal matter of dread
Pathetic urine kissing crocodile tears in horror of eyes!

The global connection is not your coital stage
Where you perform your horrid acting
Sure, your part of the whole hide from real business
So discipline you!
By all means, satisfy you without playing victim!
A great footballer cries not after scoring points
By all means play fair
A great lottostaker shows well her prices as they come in
By all means perfect your act
Studying to gain knowledge on your commercialness or otherwise
Will take off your spectacles of ridicule
None has the time to see the many baskets of hurts you weave
On this World Wide Web!

Stop letting eyes feel like gauging themselves out
When the world has better to offer!
Stop making mouths roam
In search of needles and threads to seal themselves
When tongues have much to say!
Stop making ears look for plucks to block their canals
When many a nice tunes await a listening!
Play adult only when the balls in your breasts can stomach responsibilities!
Vajayjay Illumi-Nothing!
We’re tired of your poor acting!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 7, 2018

Photo Credit: Google Pics

THE GOD IN A WOMAN (Crazy Stanzas)

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

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

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

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?

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

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

Labels are naught like God
Shadows are nothing like God

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


Gather all ye unhappy hens

From the coops of your watching owners

Gather, ye who need chicks to follow their cocks

Come all ye aggrieved

Water has lessons to show


It tastes heavens and licks the earth

It knows the hearts of mountains and

The feet of the earth

It convenes to carry ships and boats

While feeding as many as wishes

But none has seen and tasted rear foods

In their horribilities like it


It knows the human body like no other

It is a big part of the living factor

Pushing filth and running grace

Yes, it evaporates in too high a heat for rebirth

And metamorphoses into  stone in severe cold

But returns to its normal form

And keeps doing its natural chores


When blocked, it can kill at will

But still, water’s bill is a thing none can fill

And its benevolent height is a hill none can till

No living can be without water

Shape all forms as you want

Be like water

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 22, 2017


Which is the right way?

The rough route with sharp stones

The smooth route with the slippery oil?

Or the cool road built with a painful patience?


Which is the right way?

Rebellion to conquer slavery

Battle to kill desires

Or dialogue to smoothen seams?

Which is the right way?

Which is the right way?


Bliss is an expensive kiss

Which, as flies sitting on sugar, feeds on work

On patience

On humility

On sacrifices

Yet many want a goal without a run


Mouths can curse and bless

As teeth watch and tongues stir

A choice calls from all angles

Heed your best to get a chest

Which reliably follows through your hollows

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia ©September 20, 2017


I do not know

Who carved the show

I do not know 

Who gave that blow

That a girl was an animal

Not a tigress nor a lioness

Not an elephant nor an eagle

Not a dove nor of love

But a sheep which needed its herdsman

Or a hen needed to hatch or be gifted on occasion

How did I fall like a load on my mother’s head?


Trained to fit into a shadow

Trained to voicelessly like a donkey follow

Trained to worship the shallow

Becoming a chameleon to complement my sire

Was the scary blessing which cuffed my passions

As long as it had a tail 

It definitely covered its fail

Oh unfortunate me on that hurdled sail!


Fitting not into any shadow

I became the blow which non wanted to show

A blow which no ego wanted to note

A blow which all tails needed to kowtow

Defiance transformed me into a witch

A witch whose magic laid in her brighter head

A witch whose sword harmed chasing egos

A witch who only tails saw in their dark selves

And so the hunting started


A girl acting like a boy

A girl looking like a boy

An abomination in this nation

Oh how mama prayed for hands of God’s help

Oh how she forced my knees to taste the grounds of my “gods”

Oh how my peers in shadows laughed at my convention of submission

A sheep turned goat

Being forced to turn sheep

Agya mmaa abrɛ!


 All the drama acted like a hammer

Hitting my pate as I acted the nail

Until flashes of the pain of history flashed

Through the blood of my pride

How my mothers grandmother’s great grandmothers stayed like mute clay

Carved to suit

Made to swallow all the hurt their makers cooked

And I tore out

Out of the clothes of suppression


Eyeballs popped and sunk

Mouths trapped many flies

Noses opened their doors to dust

As the fear flew from me to them

I was the freed

One society warned against

One cursed to never succeed

Never knowing other shells were being broken

To let many shadows taste the light

The light of their fate caged in this sphere


You ask me how it feels to be here? 

I feel like a tied kite freed by a godly fairy

I feel like a bɔɔla bird turned into a reasonable eagle

I feel like the weaver of life

One with powers I wish not to brag

A capable partner to my once upon a time herdsman

I feel many things in one

Most importantly


Caring not about the debris that trails

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) August 11, 2017


On egos ride
Sits pride which is cautioned to hide
Like two in one in a stride
The groom rides the bride
The bride feels dry even on the side

Cleaning to gleaning
A leg on a leg
Washing to cooking
Newspaper blessing eyes
Sweeping and weeping
Eyes glued on women’s butts parading on magic boxes
Running to work after doing dishes
Left to work after eating wishes
A woman in odd
Man in even

He dreams of those to rear
Her front suffers with her rear
He wishes for a pampering
His weight on her pain
What she gives out needs no praise
The little he dishes needs loud praise
Wronged, her tears dig trenches in her throat
Soldiering criticisms stand with bulging eyes
Making sure they do not walk through mouths
Let alone hit the road of knowledge
From a white veil
To the slave in work trade
What is the essence of this labour?
A woman is woe onto herself
A man’s body brush at best
Used to clear his dust and cob-webs
And his rag at worst
Used to clean mud, stepped on like a bug
Was Odomankoma bias in black feminine moulding?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan 4, 2017


I don’t want to be a land
I want to be a tree
No matter how deeply rooted
I will stand firm
With branch-like hands
Waving my leaf- like fingers
None will step on me into mud
None will dig into me
None will wash away my skin
None can blast my stone like bones
Hoping to make a house
Whose legs will be cemented into me

As a tree
I will stand
Pulling my waters from the static land
Traveling through its defences
While dancing to the winds
I will hang my fruits up
No matter how hard they fall
I can take the burning
I can take the cutting
I can take it all
Because they sure will have tasted the heavens
By the time rots lay their icy fingers
On their loved selves
In bellies of predators
Or the hated land
Who will still sprout their seeds
To grow like me
And when I finally break
Or get uprooted in rejection
I will fall into the ever caring land

I need to be a tree
A very huge tree
Instead of this little land
Housing many weeds
A broken tree
And few crops
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


As to how we got here

I do not know

Except that, like a sun awoken in the night

I am burning my eyes but there is no heat in sight

How eagles have now turned hawks

And catching little chicks to far away trees

Which needs days and days of travel

Beats my mind’s pot to a pulp

What is their motive?

Do they not see the fully grown fowls?

Don’t they think of the beaky tongues of their future olds?

What will they feed on when their times travel to their growth?

They catch the fragiles and spill their wombs

They catch the fragiles and squash their lives

They catch the fragiles and waste their lives

Their meats uneatable

Their blood irreplaceable

Their ghosts unnoticeable

Their loss unforgettable

You chickens who stray from parental advice

Try knowing the world more

Eagles turned domestic hawks

Heal yourselves and have some brains!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

(Wrote this after a senior high school girl died of complications of abortion. I just hope the men or boys will have some thoughts to help them grow instead of destroying them, and I also wish the girls will think of themselves more)


First, hold my left hand

And let’s together stand

Pull me like an egg on a little plate to you

And with your right hand

Feel my heart

Close your eyes

Think of your heartbeats

See if you have or have had the same rhythm

Put on your sage hat

And let’s dance


I am the hen with wings of an eagle

The bull with the wisdom of an ant

I am the fly with the body of an elephant

The tsunami with the gentle touch of a cool breeze

I am the full sun with the heat of sunrise

The huge sea with many paths to great others

I am a mountain climbable to bless eyes with visions

I am a simpleton with many complexities

Still let’s dance


I have a skirt with a hole worth dying to chase

I have a brazier with soft moulds worth searching to play

I have a waist so cool worth diamonds for hands to sway

I do have a mouth, toffee-like, delicious from a distance

Not to talk of eyes with deep waters of talents

And hearts of many nations

Still let’s dance


Now picture your soul in what your ears have served

Standing in the mirrors of all eyes

Being perceived as a decoration

A nothing

A washing machine

A cooking pot

A door mat

A thing like a blame can

A punching bag

Take not your hand,

Continue feeling the heart, still with your eyes closed

And let’s dance on

Now tell yourself how it feels

And be like the external who talks to the internal wise

Now let’s go on a spinning spree

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

Photo Credit: Google pics



Wrapped in beauty

Are the rots with shiny eyes

Booting goodness

With their long legs of deceits and fancy


Wrapped in the rots

Are the goodness sent to hell

By heads doped in the rot

Into the reverence of its essence


A world, so harmed

By bad, so wrong

Yet minds, don’t think

And hearts, are captured


I need that heart that works so great

I need that head which thinks so great

Not that which see factions as tools

To be used to breakage and dumped for new


I’m calling

Why is there no voice?

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

Like an echo roaming in rocks

My voice reverts after decades to me

Poor, poor them and me

We were brought to many things see

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



Even without the cock

The hen does its wake

Pecking and pecking

For its children’s sake

Opening its wings

When danger does bake

A piece here, a piece there

An angel in the wake


When sticks are coming

It does shout for all to run

When chicks need afternoon roosting

It sits and forms a house

When people are chasing 

It stands with its cutlass beak

A hen is a ten god

Familiar with the rod



Cocks just crow

Mate and glow

Showing the shoulders in a mane

Which flows

Growing the muscles

Like scary crows

They are super models

To be emulated by men

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


Don’t you bother telling me much

I know in times past I was nothing as such

Eight to eleven is a huge gap

I think I need to give you and I a tap

I’m no longer in amoasene

You’re no longer in bente

Like the spider inspired kente

We have all covered our asene

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

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

For my every gain you see as signs of kaakyire

You have also had your rest

Now I try my best

Doesn’t mean you should totally rest

If your hands and legs have no posts

The kitchen awaits your timely toasts

Saucepans know no gender

So don’t put your head beings asunder

If I carry yefunu

And you know I can turn into efunu

Why can’t you lay the eponu

To make sure my death won’t be in hunu

Mmarimma adwene! I think w’ahunu

Mmarimma adwene! Epue if you get yefunu

I’m me doing my me,

In a world I met, to fit what I see

Take me not back where my kind paid the fee

To roll to this state by crossing many a blood sea

Do your do

Let me do my do

Or move forward or backwards

And seek no wards

True words need no pardon

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015



I live in a skirt

A skirt zipped tightly to seal

To seal as a present for the deserved

I’m not renting out

Definitely no to-lets


I know in rat holes

Many moles can be placed

To trap the hole lords

But this zipped hole is not a rat hole

Serving as a play ground

For hunters


I am a woman

People say “a woe to man”

Amazing how man still chases to woo

Please set your mind free

Ask and get permission

But know defeat

And stay away


I’m a temple

A temple hoarding many blessings

For the deserved

A temple, a temple only for one

Not all, so you can try to see your fate

If you are bounced, step not onto holy grounds

For you would be cursed then

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Cooking pots

Please stop the rots

When you are on fire

As you get hotter

Your steam must attract through smell

And your pot must be hot to scare

You need not break down

Sending ladles down town

To get many hands to carry you down

Pots, it is normal to be hot

For the fire is your glorified stool

A pot with many complains end up being broken

Or abandoned in a dusty corner

So work well in heat

As you stand on your feet

Or sit on that seat

For that is your destiny

And your ticket to awesomeness

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

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


Leg on leg

A lady never sells

Her farm or pride


Leg on leg

Even in love, there is

A knock before enter button


Leg on leg

Head and chin up

Are her greatest tools yet


Leg on leg

Lowering eyes is a

Defeat sign


Leg on leg

Owning the kitchen

Died with days around shakespeare


Leg on leg

Thoughts distinguishes

A WOMAN from mere women


Leg on leg

With this huge power to grow and feed,

Who needs to bow to fertilisers?


Leg on leg

Like a rainbow all ends must bow

For real beauty


Leg on leg

I am a WOMAN

Among women


Yes, so leg on leg

I’ll sit like a queen

And act, work and think like a sage

Hey woman! Is your leg on your leg?

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



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

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

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

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

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

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia.



We are like corn

We give and give

In many shades

We can be roasted

And can be boiled

We can be grinded

And can be broken

But we keep on replacing

Ourselves and others

Feeding world’s hunger

Helping the poor

Women are givers

Of tall and short

Of slim and fat

Of rich and small

Tend to these maize

And maintain the world

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



Plugged to the socket of deceit

Swished till the view of defeat

We are getting used to electrifications of shame

But no!

Let us not!

Let’s be no plugs

Neither must we give any shocks

Let’s root our voices in sense

Battling the unfairness of being plugged

The pain of being electrified

The fear of being blasted

Costing us our lives

Costing them grief

Wake from the drunkenness of electrification,

From the pain of shame

And merge our voices

In battling unfavourable mentalities to freedom

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




It was a taunter’s dream

To have a cook and a washer

His dream has changed

Into a cook and a book


It was a taunter’s dream

To have a ride and many cries

His dream has changed

Into a hot ride and few cries


It was a taunter’s dream

To kill many to show his wealth

That dream has changed

He wants more I must say


His pay is free, he thinks

Because his cook is dusted, he knows

If women emancipation does something

Then I’ll say, it financially liberates men!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014




It is for sons and sons

The paths are blocked

Amazing how the machetes still need the paths


It is for sons and sons

The paths have thorns

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


It is for sons and sons

The paths are no good

Amazing how their rivers give lives and their hearts save


It is for sons and sons

The paths are punching bags

Amazing how givers get chewed by the coup of the given


But we shall survive this!

Our hearts shall survive this!

Our zeal shall fight this!

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

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


doormat2 Grandma was no doormat

She had three husbands

Husbands she gave three lives each

And the earth took one from each


Mother was a direct opposite

A doormat used by three

And taken by one who stepped harder

Through her journey of five lands

In nine moons apace

The three lands she had journeyed

Gave her three gifts

And her weak nature

Coupled with the irony of giving the world eight gifts

Weighed her down 

Here I am

Thinking of what I am

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

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

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

I certainly am me

Oh ye creator of earth paths!

I scream and cry in pain of my path

You should have given me a machete

So I could clear any path I wanted

Paths are burdens immobile

And I feel the weight of immobility

Please help me if you hea

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


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


Being brought bought

After being caught like a fowl

Makes me no hen

Please have mercy this night

It’s been nights and nights of hard labour

Carrying your body load like a tipper truck

Even trucks need servicing

Do have mercy and give this truck some rest

Whoever buys a car to drive to destruction without profit!

I do not blame you

I blame the makers of this truck

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

Instead of four tires, I’m left with two

But it’s alright

Next time, I might have to come as goods

Instead of a truck

Or come in a state where trucks are equally valued

So I can live to breath

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

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014















We need to pile our hope, to save our souls

We need to catch that rope, to help our souls

Get up! Get up! Be a book worm

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

Wake, ye nations of procreation and love

Get up! Work hard minding not the stones above



We are like new sweet gums, chewed and thrown out

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

Stand tall! Stand tall! We need freedom

We need freedom in this kingdom

The ropes of deception must be cut loose

Stand tall! We can never afford to lose




We’re now slaves in kitchens, washing machines

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

Be Stronger! Be stronger! Fight to finish

What we need is learn to catch the fish

Then we can stand at the finish clear line

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

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


images (1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014



Pity messed with her head

As glittering living urged him on

His ego was tingled by passion

As his eyes strayed from her


Was it her apparel?

Could it be that her flowers are wilting?

What could it be?

These and many more walked in an excursion on her mind


Her resolves were none

Seeing as her rival, like a bloated loaf

Walked like a zombie in an unfamiliar ground,

Her pride  and heart sustained the highest degree of burns


She left a thousand times

Through many speeches prepared only for him in her mind

But words flew to an unreachable tree

When his face graced her environment


“Go, if you can’t,

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

With sweat stepping on  her burns,

She left to her roots


Months hardly walked into the house of a year

And his knees, as his feet, painfully crawled

To her root, a palm in a palm

Tears streaming down his face


All she had to show was her scar

But her scar was not visible

As the heart hid comfortably in its enclave

So the elders pushed her into an abyss of death

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014



A skirt

I smartly wear my work desire

And look forward to success acquire

But they all say that is not what they require

They look down my skirt with eyes of fire

And guess what they require


I have two soft things they want as pillows

I have some talkers they want as toffees

I have a body they want as toy

No competence of mine can clear their heads

Neither will talking stop their obsession


If female is fail

Why will they be the gateways of life?

If female is toyhood, then my joyhood

Remain in the chaotic hood

Snap out of it, you beasts!

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014



I am a woman

And I’ll stay a woman

I won’t be a foe to another woman

I won’t be a tool to hurt another woman

A man is a man but a woman is my own


I am a woman

With everything woman

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

I’ll never see men as job opportunities

Pride is a beauty I’ll always aim to achieve


I am a woman

And will never covet another woman

All hooked men I’ll forever see as expired species

Because the tears of a woman I deem a curse

I’ll work to portray the beauty of  women


I am a woman

And will never abuse a child

Child abuse makes me a farmer killing my produce

All species must be treated fair and square

Because I am that woman who makes the world


I am a woman

And will not stand to be called a thing

Marriage is golden but will never be a bondage

To force my mind and make me a sinner

Or claim my heart and make me bitter


I am a woman

And I’ll forever stand as a woman

A word against a woman will be a word against me

I’ll look out for all women in all spheres

And help with crisis no matter how hard


I am a woman

And will never act like a chameleon

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

Because I am a woman

And must always stand tall


I am a woman

Which makes me no boxer

I’ll never pick a fight I can never finish

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

His words will never find a path into my ears


I am a woman

Who worry flees from

No matter its nature

It will bounce back into its hole

So never will I cower when trouble stares



I am a woman

Sensual, beautiful,

Brainy and compassionate

No matter what anyone says,

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

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


It’s a man’s world

It’s indeed a man’s world

Although we give them life

But let’s face it,

We give them the maximum offerings


There are those of us who sell for pleasure

Without measure

Their treasures


There are those of us who covet

Without regret

What our peers have, an open secret


There are those of us

Who act helpless, yes, as weak as

New borns who wish to be treated thus


There are those of us who speak

For men and help them reach their peak

Helping them get the chances to peek

On others to gain favour


There are those of us who cheat

Branding it our greatest feat

Loving it and taking seats

In the land of the cheats


There are those of us who hate respect

Curling wings in all aspects

Killing views which might help


Shall we take our cups of thoughts and stand

To all these disband

To pave way for our rights?


Shall we clean our home

And make it shine bright

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


We are women

We are the world

We are the very essence of life

Without us there is no world

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

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014


Whispers of the walls

Connive with whispers of the ground

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

And scream in whispers

“Be in the dark, blend with his shadow

Shadows like yours cannot be seen

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

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

To see its height in the sun?

It is not fair

But the eyes of the earth blinks for my quietude

As the ears of the world closes to my plight

As those who pretend to listen bite with no teeth

I remain lost in his shadow

A shadow whose bearer does nothing commendable

Oh pitiable shadow of mine.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


She works in the kitchen

But her ears are in the bedroom

Alert and protective of her infant cradle

One eye is on the road

Awaiting the arrival of her beloved

As the other works with her hands

To put great taste on the table

But her welcoming goes sour.


Her beloved comes with drunkenness again

A friend she’s been battling with for years

Each day she thinks of the betterment of the next

Which has failed to arrive

Today, her mouth must go from eating and smiling

To talking

The talking goes wrong

And her mouth bleeds


She follows up to the room

And sees her cradle broken

With her precious little self

She screams and screams

Until the room floods with beings

But drunkenness still holds her beloved turned enemy

Many hold them together;

Her beloved and wicked drunkenness


She lifts the one she failed to protect,

Many hold her and take the remains of her little one

Many console and wail with her

But none she figures out is in her,

Feeling what she feels and knowing her loss

Her food cries for attention in the kitchen

But she holds what’s left of her soul and flees


Both families agree on the view

That Drunkenness was the one to blame

A woman has no right to lay blames

And must always submit no matter what

She lifts herself from their midst

Gets into her room, packs her things

And goes out, out to wherever

Wherever society will mourn with her


She immerses herself in petty work

And cries herself to sleep each day

Until a human brings a kerchief

To wipe her sea of eyes dry

First the fear, then she is assured

She takes him to trial and he wins the case

She decides by her own discretion

Never to have a family outside this man


And so it goes that she was orphaned

And her church is her family

Holding her hand down the aisle 

Is one bishop who knows nothing

She thinks God knows it all

But is taking her side

Because only he knows

What she truly feels inside.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


Akua cries at the ward

“Oh Lord!

What sins did my ancestor hoard

To accumulate problems warranting 

A sword into my akosuakuma?”


In a coma is the birther

Who feels not the whether

But has caused so much bother

becoming her ward’s righteous toner

A toner with a sword for her akosuakuma


By her stillness

A hymen has died in filthiness,

Causing a vacuum of unwholesomeness

Causing tears of silliness

And her dignity thrashing her akosuakuma


Akua is a tiger overtaken by a cat

In a hurtful moment she sat

The cat took her heart

And left her bloated and fat

With a paper pushed through her akosuakuma


The lecturer tried and failed

And had her failed

She made him tailed-

In legs, her sweetness bailed

Him out as she kept her akosuakuma


It’s all about the akosuakuma

Akosua stands, but eyes are on Kuma

Always on Kuma, how the lecturer laughed in her akusuakuma.

Now Kuma is gone, In the name of one who gave hers for her

Unfortunate how lousy it is, and how she still sleeps in stillness.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014








They took my pride

Before my mother became a bride

Something about the fair sex being used to settle some debts

So I was veiled on my first cry,

Veiled for one who has lived all his life in greed


He saw me walking,

Saw me talking,

Saw me easing,

On my dirty undies,

He saw me whining,

And bought me sweet things.

He threw me into the air

And giggled at my fascination

But that bushy thoughts of plucking my future fruits was rooted

Deep in the abyss of his dark heart.


Now the oranges in my living room are shooting

The mattress in my chamber are gathering

At the sight of a breath taker, I am whisked into this dungeon of darkness

To be groomed to be a groom of a groom who has no grooming

Heaven must have no fair sex

Heaven must be unfair

How can I be chained by what was given not chosen?

How can I be a debt settler by virtue of my nature?

Need I a stick, flat chest and a deep voice?

Need I an attitude, huge hands and a beard?


Talking into a cave which echoes sympathy into my own ears,


A cave whose ears are closed is but a mad man’s job, oh, a mad woman

My fate has been written

I am greed’s meal

I have always been ambition’s bait

A bait society supports

Thank you audience of emptiness

Your patronage has been highly noted

Now go in peace as I sit in piece

Waiting for he who has waited a lifetime to barge into my little me.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.


I am a flower, yes

I am a beautiful flower

I am that beautiful flower

Which chooses to wither in time

Than be scattered into pieces with no shred of dignity

After my blooming


I may use my eyes to see beautiful things

And beautiful places

I may use my scent to dazzle critic noses

I may use my mouth to say beautiful things

Or things that may free me

I may use these ears to hear heavenly things

Which will make or unmake me

I may use my beautiful colour to paint a beautiful

Scenery for my surrounding

I may open my hands in the warm sun

To glorify my maker and be caressed

By a generous breeze  which has no motive

And by the time age brings withering to my doorstep,

I may have loved, seen and felt pampered by nature


So I will not allow myself to be scattered

Yes, I am a flower

I am that beautiful flower

Which chooses not to be scattered

By a destructive storm draped in a nice breezy air

I choose to live to the fullest.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.




I am that being that is cursed

To live life that many have rehearsed

I’m there to be taken

In trouble to be forsaken

Carrying all the problems like a cow on its way to the abattoir.


I’m that being that is cursed

Never ever must my voice be heard

I must act like the snail

And be made a parcelled mail

And be sent to the one who can bid the highest.


 I am that being that is cursed

Living life of the cursed

I’m told: “like chicks follow their mothers

And never follow their fathers

I have to act like a hen and not a cock”.


Well I have news to be heard

And it must be voiced

I won’t be the parcelled mail

I’ll act like a hen but I’ll task the cock to sail

When the floods decide to have that fight.

    Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.




In times past, men were the gods of our homes. They were worshipped and never challenged. They never bothered to lend a hand in household chores. Women were their slaves and their incubators. They gave birth and worked tirelessly. They tended to their kids when they were ill, washed clothes, cooked meals, did the dishes and helped with the farms or did some sewing for the family. Now this is not the case. Most women work more than men in their bid for money. Some women earn more and contribute to the upkeep of the household.

It is therefore very laughable when men act like bosses of their households, wanting women to do everything they used to do and help provide for the house. It is high time men enlighten themselves on the fact that they are fading away in the minds of women as saviours and sit up and plan on what will bring back their charm since the “money mystery” has now been breached. If they do not do this, I am afraid a time will come, no woman will want anything to do with a man. And since some of their deviants sell human fertilizers of human eggs, and vibrators are cheap on the market, women will have nothing to lose.

It would auger well for them, if they washed the dishes as we cook the foods, if they bath the children when we wash their clothes, if they pick the children up when take them to school, then they will get their mojo back.

  Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.



I have heard so many things in my life.

“You are a girl, walk like a girl

You are a girl, look down when men are speaking

You are a girl, never shout no matter the pain

Are you crying because of this little thing?

What will you do when delivering a baby?

You are a girl, a big mouth will only throw you out

Of your husband’s house

That is, if he doesn’t kill you before then

A girl always has to tauntingly hide in clothes like an “aketeesia”

And wait for the higher specied beings to search for her

Now you are growing into a woman

Be prayerful because you are the spiritual head of your marital home

Be respectful because you have an unknown family to serve

Behave like a man, and you will become an old maid”

I have heard so much in my life.

“If your decision is to remain single,

Know you have the society to battle

Learn to work well under duress

Hiding all marital pains

As washing dirty linens outside makes a bad wife

You must be accommodating

Very accommodating

So much so, that you accept other wives of your husband as your sisters

And care for them

You must throw all your emotions out!

Emotions make wives witches

Making them unnecessarily covetous

And ending up unattractive to their husbands”

I have heard so much, I can never enumerate all

Some tell me those with analogies

“Eve thrived on Adams’ bones”

They fail to stress that Adam trusted Eve’s judgement into doom

They mention that Jacob married two sisters

But they fail to stress on the enmity between his children

They tell  “be holy as Mary was holy”

But they fail to stress that Joseph had no hand

In the pregnancy of the Christ

Do I also wait to be mated by an angel?

They tell me to love a man as Christ loved the church

But they fail to stress the fact that Christ never married

Will it be surprising if I told you these suffocating advices mostly came from my elderly kind?


Today I have a voice

Please do away with the analogies

Like the human being that I am

I want my voice to be heard

I am no Eve

Eve was a woman who was never known as a girl

Eve was a woman like me

But I am a worldly breed

I was conceived same as the man

It took the same moons as that of the men

To grace this habitat with my presence

I did not have to have bones transferred from any part of any man to have my earthly stay

So I must be seen as a whole being and not as half a being

I am a woman who is human and must be treated as such

Never will I stay quiet when I wish to speak!

Never will I close my eyes when I wish to look!

Never will I hide in clothes when I feel for the breeze!

Never will I wait to be searched for when I can also equally look

Never will I stay in the shadows of other beings

Because I was born alone and must live my life in uniqueness

I am me and can never be another

I am no Eve, so I do not expect anyone to act like my Adam

Leave me be.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.



I know why the caged bird sings

To showcase her beautiful voice


I know why the caged bird sings

To cause its trappers some noise


I know why the caged bird sings

To feel the attention of a wishly handsome choice


I know why the caged bird sings

To tell the ‘cagers’ that they can break it all but not her spirit


I know why the caged bird sings

To register her existence in the minds of appreciators


I know why the caged bird sings

To at least release some strain of boredom because it can’t stretch its wings


I know why the caged bird sings

It has hope that someday, a knightly eagle will perhaps hear her voice

Like Maya Angelou sang and the world heard and rescued her


I know why the caged bird sings

To be as free as air when it finally stretches its wings

Be it in freedom or eternal rest.

Inspired by Maya Angelou’s novel “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.




I heard a huge noise in the land

Like the fall of a huge tree

Guess what I saw parting the path; the sand.

The sand which apparently had the huge fall seems not to be free

It has taken a meal that is uneatable, I know

The vultures stand shivering in fear closing their mouths to all corpes

For fear of mistaking yours for the ordinary

But you must be smiling.

Born to suppression.

Your spirit screamed “please less oppression”

Your heart yearned for freedom

Your environs screamed with impunity “you are less in this kingdom”

What was a human with freedom bombs fixed in her DNA to do in a suppressed kingdom?

The world rebelled your existence

Your trust put into the wrong person, got up suddenly

And bit you in the heart by taking your pride,

The unripe pride that many do not look out for until later

But your strength overrided your hurt and you gayed in positivism.

Growing free and learning what there was to be learned from second generational elders

And being played by powhittrashes, you hoped for a better tomorrow

A female with no looks

Must always learn the books

To avoid ending up in the group of the crooks

You learned, aimed for nothing the world could not give;

Just to be a bus conductor

But the world would have none of it.

You roamed in your caged little world

And sang until the world heard your beautiful voice

And tried removing some shackles

Which let you loose with supervision

You were forced into the social vice of selling smiles

After becoming an unriped tree with a fruit

With time, you became that free bird

Who taught, let out minds of many,

And sought to free other caged birds and succeeded.

Why won’t this bird rest in a peaceful nest?

Maya Angelou

You will rest in the most Perfect of Peace

Because wings of female eagles like you are not breakable

I know your spirit is flying above us like an angel

Covering loved beings in trouble

We are thankful;

Women of the modern world

We are thankful;

Women who are born with wings

We are thankful;

Women born with voices in worlds that hid us

We will continue in the path you made

Until it becomes a flawless tarred road

So rest at ease accomplished bird,

Rest knowing you left this world a better place for your kind

Rest knowing you contributed immensely

And we all felt your impact and will forever be thankful.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.


I would have loved it then

When all were hidden deep in the mind

When a little pampering was all to bind

When cheating and unfairness were in a stygian gloom

When a smile could soften damsels and brand bastards suave and sophisticated.

I know I would have reveled in it then, as people enjoy

The sour taste in crѐme fraiche…

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.


I am a vessel

I am that breakable but naturally mendable vessel

That quenches the thirst of humanity

I am the eagle

I am that strong eagle

Which flies miles on end in order to feed her home

I am a diamond

I am a diamond draped in rags

I am stepped on, spat on, placed on heat yet nothing changes

Until that patient one finds me and hits the jackpot

I am none other but the woman

That selfless being that gives room to human kind

The gateway of beings yet unborn

The wise one who mends her broken soul over and over again with love

That being that gives and gives without expecting anything

Treat me gently

Treat me as you want to be treated

How can you shut the door that out-doored you into the light?

How can you sit idle while riff- raffs throw sticks and dirt into the warm room that housed you for nine moons?

How can you look down on the brains that protected you throughout your sleep into mother earth

A woman is a woman

That man that took the woe for you

That man that will woo for you even in your failure

That womb that sympathizes with nature

I am that woman

So give me the light.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.



I am a woman,

Yes I am a woman

A woman who forms part of the makers of human kind

A woman who nurses and makes sure humanity continues

A woman who refuses to be suppressed by heart wrenching relationships

A woman who weeps for the sufferings of her ancestors


I am a woman

A woman who refuses to be humiliated

A woman who refuses to work for someone to take the glory

A woman whose fortune lies not on tall beds and clothed holes

A woman whose hands work to feed her

A woman whose main wish is to make the world a comfortable place for her wards

A woman who will not be insulted and made a slave

Only to die a pauper


I am that woman

That woman who rocks your brains but not your cock

That woman who speaks with eyes wide opened and not half closed

A woman who refuses to be the enemy of other women

I am that woman who wants to be the change

I need in this world

So look up

Look into my eyes without taking offense

With respect while we engage in this discourse.

   Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014.


They say I am a strong woman 
Because I dare the man of men 
And succeeds 

They say I am a strong woman 
Built with a heavy soul in a little body 
That must never be taken for granted 

They say I am a strong woman 
Who is an asset 
And has a force 

But why do they feel so threatened? 
Even the wild dog bites not without a hint 
Unless it is mad 
So straighten up 
For I am all that with more good without provocation 

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia. (c) 31st Oct., 2013.


Turn to the right

Turn to the left

Touch me here

Touch me there

Now kneel, no, not like that

Kneel with your back towards me

And don’t you dare move an inch no matter what happens


A man is a boy

A man is a boy who must be set right

In her court, a toy

Which can be made bright

By her touch, and can shiver with fright

At the rise of her voice


Like a leopard, she gains all the submissiveness due her

And pride in her ‘masterness’

Although it is for a few minutes

Because she knows that is the only time she has to be a master.

Known outside as the mistress of many,

Her sole purpose to quench the inferiority society has embedded in her

Is to rule no matter how

But she gets the ‘mistress’ name with a small ‘m’

So she vows to: …


Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.




Look at me

Look through me like a mirror

And see yourself.

Look at me

Look deep within yourself and see me

Yԑn kↄԑ!

Hunu me sԑ nnipa na me yԑ wo nua

Aaane, me yԑ wo sista, sista, sista, sista, sista

Biibi na ԑdane yԑ ntira

Anka mԑtumi ayԑ wo broda, broda, brada, brada

Mmrԑ bi a atwamu no, na me yԑ abaayuwa

Ԑyԑ ntokulo bi a obiara mfa nani nhunu na na eyimema

Mmpanyinfoↄ no nso bↄↄ masumu toklo

Sԑ amansan nnyinaa nhunu sԑ me yԑ abaayuwa

Na wↄn a wↄpԑ ntiatia me so

Bↄↄl a, mebↄↄ bi

Amirika a, metuu bi

Dԑn ara na mmberimawaa yԑԑyԑ a manyԑbi?

There were absolutely no differences

I was told to be an ‘akateesia’

To cover and hide my pride

Me kata me ho sieyԑ

Nanso adԑn na ↄbarima biara hunu me a na ↄrehwehwԑ?

Na ↄrehwehԑ dia mede masie yi?

Is my pride really something that must be covered in clothes?

Yԑse me yԑ ↄbaa sima

Asekyerԑ ne sԑn?

Asekyerԑ ne sԑ, mԑsi nnuↄma ama anaa?

Me sua no, na yԑfrԑme abaayuwa kromo

Aseԑ ne sԑn?

Asekyerԑ ne sԑ, mԑ wo ahyԑ koro no ma na y’ama me amo anaa?

Eno, ka kyerԑ meԑ

Papaa, ka kyerԑ meԑ

Efirisԑ me gye tum sԑ nnipa gu mu ahorow

Nanso nka obuo a ԑyԑ korↄ bi baa mu a

Anka megyidi sԑ ԑbԑyԑyie

Wo bu me, na menso me bu wo a

Ede dԑn na ԑbԑba?

Enti nea mmaa bebree ayi adi akyerԑ wiase yi

Ԑwↄ sԑ meguso brԑ?

Please look at yourself

Look within yourself and see me

The me who wants to do everything you do

The me that wants to be hailed as a super being

The me that will have nothing to hide for others to look for

The me that will have wings to fly in the minds of your godships.

           Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014.