Leave Him For Me

Leave your love lover
Leave him for me
Let me give you cover
Twice more than he

Wife, he said you became spiteful
You cook no more because you run a firm
So having your quota of beauty rest is rightful
Says your marriage is infirmed,
But you do not care so he pretends
Pretends that he cares no more, or needs no more like he did before but you I can assure that he does.

He picked me up and without thinking I hugged him
Just a hug but it sealed up an enduring night with you,
An unpleasant morning as you rushed out leaving the children with the maid,
Being reminded that Junior had an appointment with the dentist and a letter came from the school about the homeworks he brings back unanswered.
He hugs me even closer, I feel his heart beating.

Wife, he says your off days are church days
Do all of what the pastor says, do all you can to follow his ways, call him daddy and all of his call you obey, sow seeds, monthly tithes you pay.
You marriage is a game of maize
No communication just a play,
Seeds in clay, headed no where
He wonders what the pastor preaches, wonders if you know what the Bible really teaches.
Or maybe the pastor talks less about souls but fishes
Big fat fishes, “Cast your bread upon the waters”
“Give and it shall be given unto you”
“Receive it!” Marital break through, Financial Pull through, then your past and future he sees through then more seeds you sow, lay low woman seeds don’t spring from clay.

Me at the front seat of his luxury car
Massaging his hand, ranting endlessly about my day
We laugh and tease, I enjoy his ease, I aim to please.
I raise the trends about Moesha, he says, “stop it dear, you’re nothing like that girl”
I really don’t know the difference but I just laugh.
He stares at the nothingness of the air and says, “You are different”.
Long silence, we sit timeless

Wife, he said you missed your place
Priorities misplaced
The home is your office to run
Not the office you run
The children should be your problem
Not the workers and the client’s problem
You spend hours to make up.
The children wonder why you can’t make it up, for all the times you promised you’d spend together,
That one time you will be a mother again
That day when nothing but family will matter
For seeds don’t spring up in clay no matter how much you water.

Woman I see your comments under the pepperdems
I cooked your husband jollof, with some pepper there
We both know he likes it hot in there
So I really spiced and peppered-dem
The chicken was good, my sauce was raw
See applied one law

I read your bashing comment under the sugardems
I fried pancakes for your husband, with some sugar in there
We both know he likes it sweet in there
So I really milked and sugared- Dem
The pancakes were good, my syrup was sweet
So I had a mission to complete

Can’t blame me, what’s a girl supposed to do
Sweet mouthed, I did the job
Hold, turn gentle like a door knob
You turned into bedroom slob
Don’t look at me that way, you let me rob
Me atop The driver’s seat, silent ride, the roads are bumpy
Made me a little jumpy, maybe froggy
We came in silence, no time for a dog….gy
We came in silence
Your dogs were barking, I brought your husband home.

Wife, it’s half past ten
You’re still not home, till when?
You want to please career and then?
Life hits you and you blame it on men
Men are thrash, the very ones you littered your life with
Women like you just smash, your simple task was to build,

You missed your place,
Priorities misplaced
Your worth replaced
Your presence unplaced
My every effort graced
Memories of you unconsciously erased

Woman don’t be success crazed
You’re not too late your marriage can be saved
Fail your family and these seeds will dry up in the clay
Lay low Woman, seeds don’t do good at play.

I have no agenda to pepper
So quit being a pepper-wife
Been low on my sugar and I don’t need one for my daddy
Wake up woman, wife up!
Junior is the pillar under these heavy walls of divorce
And it’s growing weak
Work your home, start this week
Don’t call your pastor, wisdom is here for you, seek

Our man, your husband, father of your children
He bought me a ring today
Wants to make me his wife to stay
I was happy what more could I say?
Right, you’re wrong I told him I just found a lover
He leaned close and whispered,
“Leave your love lover
Leave him for me
Let me give you cover
Twice more than he”

I haven’t found a lover
I am one as one can be.
I’m no home wrecker, I know a good man when I see one
I gave back the ring
I could hear my conscience sing
Woman lay low and let us save your marriage
Cos I want to have a family too.
No Pepper, No Sugar, Build’em Up Ministries.

Walk of Pain

With burnt hands and scars of flame I still cooked for him

Woke up very early after a long sexual tourney
Careful enough not to rattle his sleep firstly,
Manage to the kitchen secondly with my eyes still blurry
Fix his meal thirdly, serve him on time and still not to wake him up early
He wakes up to eat,
Every movement with my heart beat
My fingers crossed between my skirt’s pleat
There wasn’t enough meat
He ate in silence and as he swallowed every morsel, my heart went off beat

He walked out of the door, left no money.
Me looking after him like a dummy
Night will fall sooner than later
I had to prepare supper
How can I go borrow money again from mummy?

This marriage is bitterly enduring
I should have seen this night junction from the morning
A journey with no destination.
I will die sad if I don’t create my nation
I should grow enough guts to cease his breath,
Find peace in my nation, and live like a queen.
I know death will come soon for me, but better to die a free man than live a slave
At least I would have one happy moment to die with

But my guts have been replaced with fear
Subject to submission even at the peak of torture
The will to create my destination slaughtered
Women can’t go to court,
Neither can I cease his breath, nor run away, nor talk so
We’re trekking till I drop dead.

Yes I know, but from the start, it was love from the heart, from the start.
I don’t know where we are now but it doesn’t look like the end

So with burnt hands
And scars of flame,
I will still cook for him

The Return of the Coward

Teshie is a coastal town in the Ledzokuku-Krowor Municipal district, a district in the Greater Accra Region of south eastern Ghana. It is the ninth most populous settlement in Ghana, in terms of population, with a population of 171,875 people. It is also believed that Teshie turned 300 years in 2011. The town is rich in diversity as a result of the country’s current democracy and development program. Every August the town celebrates the Homowo festival.


Woke up hopeful for a perfect day
Permitting into through my windows the morning sun’s ray.
Taking a deep breath I stretch myself.
Smoke from outside interrupts my breathing.
Ok this is Teshie. We smoke fish every morning.
Trying to think about my day.
Thinking interrupted by shouts of anger.
Nothing serious I must warn.
A typical day in Teshie involves shouting.
And sometimes fighting too.

For a very strange reason I decide to follow this morning’s riot.
Rather Unusual of me
And I’m so angered, angered by a coward.
A coward who denied a pregnancy 24 years ago.
Left a 17year girl to find her feet alone
Amidst the shame and struggle
The hunger and poverty that prevailed.
A coward who was not bold enough to claim ownership of the proceeds from the very land he ploughed.
The dog with its tail between the thighs, he runs away.

24 years later he is back.
To apologize and take back the baby,
No rejected son, a full grown man.
Because rumors say ‘his son’ is now wealthy
Rumors had it right because ‘his son’ really is.
This shameless coward has returned, hiding for 24 years.
Now the storm is over,
He is back to face the calm.
With bottles of schnapps and a ram.
With a noble delegation of cowards.
To perform Kusum.
For what? And for who?
I say send them back!

17 years old Atswεε dropped out of school.
Joined the fish mongers association of Teshie.
Tirelessly saw her son through primary education.
Sold shoes and bags alongside smoked fish to see him through secondary education.
Took loans from banks to put him in tertiary.
Sold fish to pay the loans.
Sold her jewelry and cloths to make her son comfortable through tertiary.
Now her son, an engineer, a young achiever, her only crown is making her proud.
Cleaning her tears and paying off the years of hardship.
Bringing her all the pleasures she denied herself.
Crowning her with pride and smiles.
Once upon a time, society’s laughing stock is now the envy of many.

Don’t get calm yet.
Because the coward is back
To claim the seed he swore by the heavens he did not sow.
Such nonsense!
May the gods strike him!
What has tradition got to say?
The old woman has to answer that.

But Atswεε has been her own man for 24years.
She needs no man.
This boy needs no father now.
They are okay and content.
But this coward of a man,
I leave him for God
I’m taking this fight personal.
Don’t get me wrong.
It’s my boyfriend we are talking about.


For all the souls that are being lost just for being black.
For all those who are scared and hopeless.
To the strong ones who died fighting
And the stronger ones who will die fighting for love and acceptance.
To all those crying,
We are black and proud, black is love, black Is beautiful.

It’s night again,
Life ebbed out of yet another mortal
The sun has set once again, and yes another story so fatal
We can’t understand the pains
The misery is above our brains.
Can’t our tears settle the score?
Can’t the groanings soothe our heart’s core?

Yet another evening
Someone somewhere’s life is beginning
Someone’s just ended
The life just faded.
Who needs an explanation from death?
Who needs permission to live?

Its yet another night
Nature just gave us a reason to fight,
Die by trying to outwit death’s might.
We will live YES!!! God gave us the right.
We walk under His sight forever in His light.

The day has fallen
Another will rise
A life has fallen
Another has risen.

#BlackLivesMatter #AllLivesMatter  #WarOnUs


Can’t count how many mornings I’ve seen or how Many nights I’ve slept through, but I can sure count the days and nights ahead of this moment.
I have so much to talk about.
Not a single child understands my judgments.

My concerns sound funny.
I’m imitated even in my face.
I look at the once busy seashore
The once lively world for me,
Oh every thing is rotting. Decaying by the second, fading with time, passing with the tides.
The presence of too much knowledge is total foolishness.

I can’t count how many mornings ive seen or how Many nights I’ve slept through. But I know I spent one night thinking about this and one morning writing about this.

Old Age Is Catching Up.


Poet’s War

Chibok’s flagitious news
Gashed into moms’ wombs
Like a brine sharpened knife
Hemorrhage of grief

Well done! Boko boys
Bloody  cowards of asylum
Coming for the unarmed
Claiming victory in the bush

Our daughters must return
Final drop of tears today
Cremate the pleading placards
Drained are our knees

Where is your head, Shekau ?
Killing, maiming. and destroying
In the name of Allah
May you never taste his mercy

Free our sisters
Before this ink rains
Cursed blessings
Of undying hell

©Sule Abdulai

Let Go

Sorry is never enough for some people.
They just want to have nothing to do with you.
Your quest to settle issues even annoys them.
Your sorries sound irritative.
And all of a sudden sun rays of love that once woke up a flower turns hatred and scorches life out of the flower.
And there lays a sun burnt flower.
Looking old and ugly.
Blaming her self and feeling sorry.
Look at her for Christ sake and give her water:just smile.
Draw close and help her to her feet:please say hi.
She does not need the same old acquitance.
All she wants is to be able to pray without saying,”God forgive me for….”

Some people will never let go.
Water that is supposed water the plant now drowns it.
I have said my sorries
Please say your no worries
And lets start writing new stories
And smile at incoming moments of glories.
Oh i miss you.


bring back our girls please
With tears in eyes and with pain in our heart.
Bring back our girls.
The dark one is my sister and the fair coloured one is my cousin.
The short girl is the baker’s daughter only child of her parents.
That hairy girls  is the tuo zaafi seller’s daughter.
Only girl amongst 15 boys.
The tall dark girl is asthmatic.
She cant stand any dust.
Please#bring back our girls.

Yesterday i heard mama Salia crying.
My knees weakened and to the ground i fell.
Salia is only eighteen.
Only one to have been educated in her family.
Her dream is to become a doctor and help our Borno.

In pain i got up and staggered home,
You see Dumebi and i shared the same dream.
So did Promise and Aisha.
We longed to be journalist.
Writting and report about the hidden beauty of Chibok.
Sadly that dream is at stake now.

Mama Yetunde’s sanity is fading
Oh sorry has faded;
she calls a doll yetunde and carries her about
Yetunde is such an adorable girl,
With big eyes and a big head with a small body.
Envy of every mother
Her soothing angelic voice
That fragile girl too?
Take a pity man,
Please# bring back our girls

Fuseni had tried to make use of a rope and a tree,three times already.
Fusena his twin and only sister was taken too.
Grandpa Baba can’t hold it, he is well  advanced in age
And the sancrosanty is wearing him out.
So all he does is drink palm wine.

So the tweetering of the birds have ceased; perhaps they are afriad to be heard.
The soar high in the skies; they don’t want to be near man.
The Cackling and cluttering of fowls are heard as mere shivers.
No sounds of insects at night.
They too have gone for a fear strike.
For even when wind blows the leaves move in silence
Perhaps they are afraid to be heard.

Fear and panic in Chibok
Days of tears and pain
Feeling of anguish and agony
The heart’s toture, The soul’s torment.

Join hands and let’s pray for a
For the destiny of a generation is burried in the extension of their breast, their feeble chest, in a solitary corner of their heart.

Till my dying day

Woke up this morning and the realisation of a truth hit me so hard.
Life is all about lines let me call them boarder line, for purpose of this lesson.
Each passing second we make it through to village we call minutes and every passing minute we make it through to a town we call hours. Every passing hour we make it through to  a country we call days and every passing day we make it to a continent we call years.
Sadly enough we leave friends and family at every boarder line.
This causes us so much greive and shock but hey those are rules of our journey.
Every boader line we pass we meet a new friend receive a new family member and that fills us with joy and gladness.
But of course we loose to gain.
Sometimes i am so curious to know how those we leave behind feel.
I don’t desire to join them any way .
God forbid.
But i just feel like i have to know how it feels to leave behind seconds minutes hours days and years. How it feels to leave behind times and seasons.
Feel how it is to leave in a wolrd where no one knows.
Well truth be told one day i will be left behind so will you,you and you too.
So till that historic day i.see every second as the best
And enjoy every minute to the fullest.
And each passing day, i’d give and forgive, i’d work with focus, play and pray, eat and laugh. Because that is the greatest.
Till that day i will receive every year with an expectant mood and heart of gratitude. Sure, because that is my newest.
And in every second of every minute of every Hour in every passing day of every week of every months of the years will i live carefully because it is the latest.
And depend on God the Baba for He is my Papa. Look up to Him for my daily bread for He is more than my Mama.
And above all serve him till my.dying day.
And when my crown i receive have nothing to say
But cry with me and say
My girl you you deserve this crown
Sweety pie you made heaven proud.
Well till am left behind in a village a town a country or a continent these are my plans.
What about you.
Think about it.