of peculiar flowers/like sound of laughter/fluid in words you could spell/only after lettering down/libations on territories/virgin with mystic bites/of your footsteps/creating gardens/of hope beyond tales

Thursday, October 1, 2015

There are stories

The walls
of my stomach
are flooded with tears
Nobody sees them

I am full
Starved of love and sex and laughter
There is nothing to be said after
Story story story

I mean it, for my stories
It was all true, you know?
The way it happened
The way I said it happened
But it hurts you,
My stories hurt you
because you want to be
my story
You, saviour
You, all
Me, nothing without you
Me, yours

Was it the way I told it  
Or that I told you
Or that it happened
with me
at the center of it all
being the villain,
cutting myself, cutting other people
and trying to sew it back on
like a hero
flesh to flesh,
blood dripping
scars forming
memories jammed
as I call your name
asking you to stay
when you had already left

Thursday, May 28, 2015


I thought maybe
I should tell you that
these days
nothing is okay


I wanted to tell you
that you have become




Hey, I


it’s been a while
just checking in
I miss you
Is everything okay?


I saw your picture on Instagram today
You look good, happy
Take care


Hey sup
I was thinking about you the other time
Yeah, took that photo at Winneba, thanks
Will be going back there next week
you good?


Yeah, thanks


I thought maybe
I should tell you that
these days
nothing is okay


Sunday, May 10, 2015


Every now and then
I remember to give  
my mother a hug
to ask her how she is doing
how she feels
what she wants

I try to match the attention
and love she gives me everyday  
I buy her gifts
not for her birthday
not for mother’s day
just because I thought about her
when I entered the store

Every now and then
I see her unconditional love
and question mine
because every time I have said she is awesome
It’s been right after she’s fed me
picked up my call in the middle of the night
lent me some money
told me my shoe size when I had forgotten
forced me to drink herbs that took away my cold

Every now and then I wish
I wouldn’t forget
that she is human too
with fears and dreams and flaws and favourite colours— 
I don’t know my mother’s favourite colour
Does my mother have a favourite colour?

Every now and then if
I would look into mama’s eyes
and tell her
don’t make your entire life about me, about us— your children, your husband, your family
Live mama, live for you every now and then
chase your dreams every now and then
face your fears every now and then
forget about me every now and then
Live mama
Live everyday
so when you die
You won’t be a tired ancestor  
watching over me
wishing you had wet your feet
in the deep blue sea

Saturday, April 25, 2015


when your heart wakes
without you
and goes to find trouble
hurts itself
and comes back
hides in your stomach
and coils around itself like a snake
pushes against your chest just like a storm
and beats, no end
till you cry
and beat, no end
when you stop
to breath hard
like nothing is enough
to let you be
one heart
without another
attached involved loved
pumping not for its own sake but
for her
for him
for them

when your heart stops
and beats you hear
is only from your memory
how it used to
be, eat, fear
love, love, love

Monday, October 27, 2014

Half a Bridge

Someone broke me
when I wasn't looking
someone broke me
and hid my pieces in air
so I search with every breath
what my other pieces are
where my other pieces went

Someone broke me
and kept it a secret
Now everything I find
could be me
so I carry on illusions
and drop off memories 
I run to places I should have walked to 

Someone broke me
and forgot that they did
And I, forgot who did
So I’m here
looking everywhere

for me

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Gird Writing Camp Set for October

The Gird Writing Camp, a two-tiered interactive writing program that supports young writers, scholars, and entrepreneurs with knowledge and tools to develop and enhance their writing skills is now open for registration.

The Camp comprises a one-day intensive seminar and a month long writing consultancy package that enables participants to get access to writing experts in confronting personal writing challenges.

Participants will get the support of diverse experts in the business, academic, and creative writing fields including: Prof Ama Ata Aidoo, renowned writer; Dr. Mawuli Adjei, Senior Lecturer, Department of English, University of Ghana and Mr. Rami Baitie, Group Head, Marketing and Corporate Affairs, UT Holdings, Mr. Paul Ababio, Investment Advisor, CEO, Paul & Associates and Dr. Kweku Ainuson. Business Lawyer, Snr. Partner AB Lexmall & Associates.

The Camp accommodates a maximum of 20 participants in each session namely, in the Creative Writing, Academic Writing, and Business Writing sessions. Interested writers, students, and entrepreneurs are therefore advised to register early to secure a seat. Registration can be carried out online at:

For more information about the camp please Call: 0207152656 or Email:

Thursday, May 8, 2014


I wonder what people did 50 years ago, when people got missing. I wonder what we can do now to #GETBACKOURGIRLS.

I think social media has made us delusional, detached and self-conceited without us meaning to be any of that.

We say Boko Haram should #BRINGBACKOURGIRLS, but will they? 

Don’t we need to go #GETBACKOURGIRLS from wherever they may be, in whatever state they may be in?

Are our political leaders only interested in wars that bring money?  Cos this is over two hundred wars in one. Each one of the girls is worth our time, our money, our blood.

Are our soldiers only interested in revolutions that will bring them political power? Cos this is over two hundred injustices in one. Each one of the girls is worth our armies, our money, our blood.

I wonder what people did 200 years ago, when people got missing. I wonder if they would have imagined the pain and torture these little girls are suffering and maybe get on their feet and pour libations to the gods before they matched to the village chief and demanded that they #GETBACKOURGIRLS.

I wonder if they would have tied their heads and arms and necks with red cloth because Boko Haram has taken our blood and we have to show Boko Haram, that we will get back our blood  to where they belong, with us.

I wonder if we could get up from behind our computers  and ipads and phones and actually think about our precious girls and their families for a minute so we can decide that it is us who need to go #GETBACKOURGIRLS.