Mother dear whom everyone favors has a tree that bears fruits of labor. She takes the fruits before they even ripen to the waterside market to sell the way she takes children to the auction ground to be taken abroad to unknown households in Monrovia. She makes much profit and does not care. The seeds…
Loving God
Have you ever fallen in love with the sea Loved her so fiercely Your orgasms are unending Uncompleting. Unrestraining. Damn… I love when she’s mad When she reaches out in waves Tidal energies immobilise my senses I rise into her Deep into her Feel her heart beat In the middle of her vulvic ocean Motion…
If My Heart
If my heart could grow You could have seen its seed Augmenting Pushing through the light Ready to produce fruits. If my heart could talk You could have felt the unfelt; The love, the fear, the insecurities, the hope, the anguish, the frustrations. If my heart could show You could have seen the…
Dear Daughter
Dear Daughter I have never loved myself enough To laugh through the rough times I have seen different colors Fading in the beauty of the flowers I have woken up to different nightmares Only to calm down through the power of a Prayer I know of those days when I needed someone beside me to…
Marred and Mad
Every thought aches for a great reward From a massive heap of anxiety the cringing brakes stall Behind today’s chains of hustle in a young woman’s life As though it be un-enough she dared be seen and not just heard To fit in rugged spaces not designed for two Yet awaken tomorrow still judged for…
Ruddy Morfaw
Ruddy Morfaw is a Cameroonian jurist, writer and spoken-word poet. For over a decade, she has worked with institutions in the area of human rights, peace, development and corporate litigation. She has been a researcher and human rights activist with the Cameroon National Commission on Human Rights and Freedoms (NCHRF), Southwest Region, and she currently…
Child Not Bride
Under the silvery stare of the moon The children sat to listen to soul refreshing tales Beneath the starry blue skies, we laughed and galloped our ignorance of the world away It was in the nakedness of the breeze that I learned to smile my soul away And I enjoyed it A perfect peace But…
The Honey Pot
Amina soaps up her breasts, her thighs and her derriere Amina squats and washes her honey pot it doesn’t produce much honey these days Amina washes the suds from her hair and skin She has used the expensive rose-scented bath oil that Fiifi gave to her on her birthday He likes it Amina dries herself…
Social media love
Babes, Please I beg, Let us not waste time on grammar! The time between is too short to waste on long words, Want to is- Wanna and Going to is-Gonna Here we are, Fingering gadgets, Whatsupping, instead of twerking. Snapchatting instead of freaking each other, Groping clefts of throbbing flesh and skin Babes, Do not…