Fisherman’s Daughter

The fisherman’s daughter is the first to greet us

From a long day out

At sea

My heart is for her

Perched snuggly on her head

In a

Basin filled with baskets of


We fished from the

Depths of the


Where our love frolics among the seaweed and


Necklace that she wears round her neck

Beautiful and strong like

The deft hands she uses

To smoke the fish we caught at sea

To see

Deep beyond the splash of the waves.

She smells of

Sea spray and her hands are

Coarse like

Mine after rowing all day

Churning water into


Like her pearly smile

She tastes like salt and pepper

Spicy and full of


Mysteriously dark

Like the braids on her head

She is coiled in her

Passion which engulfs us

In a maelstrom

Of emotions

As it rains and


When we make love among the rocks


On the seine

Nets that we use to haul the fish up from the depths of the


Which feeds us and nurtures us at her

Breast that

Makes her giggle and squirm.

I love the fisherman’s daughter

Because she is kin

Like the

maame water

Which haunts our little beach at night

Luring men into their last


Like the sound of her laughter

She wears her beauty in

Shells woven into her hair

And she is

Tall and strong

Like the prow on my pirogue

Which is


Fisherman’s daughter.


© Sena Frost 2k16

Image courtesy


You Touched Me


You touched me,

In places hands could never go,




Yet you were only human.


It wasn’t your intention,

Just my unfortunate luck

That you unwittingly held my heart in detention.

Yeah I don’t need to tell you that I suck.


You touched me,

In places hands could never go,




Perfect in every way,

The woman of my dreams.


You remain in my thoughts


In my heart,

The one who never loved me,

Yet I am not sad about it.


You touched me,

In places hands could never go,




I could sing odes

About your charm and grace.

I am

Your throaty bard composing

Songs for your soul.


I would compose sonnets



Thoughtful paintings

Capturing the emotions of your every word


Like a Pollock

Or dystopian like a Picasso.


I will leave this here

Under your favourite tree

At the death of the month.

I count to three

And I’m not here anymore.


© Sena Frost 2k16

Image Courtesy


Let’s take a moment to make some noise for the brothers and sisters

Those gone before their time,

Whose voices sent shivers through timbers,

Golden and eloquent and worth every dime.


Let’s make some noise for the mothers and fathers,

Those who met death like old friends,

The movers and the shakers,

Who walked the straight and narrow on its lengths and breadths.


We gon’ sip on strong ale,

And tell your story by the fireside,

Of how you carried the world while in the vale,

And keep the younglings wide eyed with wonder and nothing to hide.


Let’s take a moment to make a loud noise,

To the deceased,

The blessed and cursed and good and bad and the girls and boys,

Strong and not decreased,


Reverberating and echoing,

And illuminating and reflecting,

In each conch,

An ocean roaring in our ears.


Sixty seconds of sound,

Of the music they released into our lives,

Of their realities and truths,

That they may never be forgotten.


Even though the light of their eyes may have gone out,

Their touch merely wind whispers,

And the taste of their love but a mere memory,

We stir their voices stilled by time.


© Sena Frost 2k16

image courtesy



We crave it

Relish it like it’s a God-given gift

Got thugs all lit

Pulling on some good Kush

Like it gonna give their souls a lift

Them girls looking all lush

Lights dancing off that bootie


Drawing power with ya cootie

Putting them cash brokers to slave working

Them accounts like they cotton

Spinning yarns

Call’em tall tales

Power ain’t lies

Just the tip of lions’ tails

Strung up and musical

Waxing and pitching like a lyre

Singing niqqas going lyrical

Whispering sweet nothings

Puppet master’s got the girl


Sweeting that money sauce


She make him better cos she the source

Of a niqqa’s new wheels

Call her marinade


It got a little man bawling

At the top of his lungs

Tryin’ to get his groove on balling

But his mama ain’t let him have that toy.

Pretty girls gon’ make up

To make up

Over blackheads and pimples

That are made up.

Got a student living in paper

With dreams of dealing paper

But how he gon’ spend it

When he ain’t know how life gon’ be lived.



We crave it

Like the neighbourhood patrol

Going trigger happy

Squeezing bullets at nappy headed targets on parole

Baam Bullseye!

Got us saying


To the movers and shakers

Dealing with the devil

With minds twisted

Desire so evil

We draw lots

To see the pillar of salt

Strike a devil’s bargain

To be drunk on power

Comes at a price


It ain’t fo’ free

But we reach out for it

You think I’m lying?

Watch your little kids move you

With teary eyes and sulky faces

Biting deep into your stash

Venomous little snakes putting you through your paces

Constricting hard and making your teeth gnash

Taking all the little spaces


But hey it ain’t all bad

Cos we architects and builders

Using that AutoCAD

Shaping dreams and realities

But control?

I ain’t never let it take my frailties

I submit

So yeah I’m flipping them switches

Touching them buttons

Cos I’m on that cruise control.


© Sena Frost 2k16

image courtesy google images


I insurrect,

Come out of my corner swinging

Aiming to resurrect

Knock some sense into y’all knuckle heads with the rage my fists are bringing

Shake up your intellect

Spittin’ bars of pain

Feet stomping in the yard

Got your head bobbing

Filling you with the feel good factor

Like I hit you up with some codeine and promethazine

Throw it up with some Mountain Dew and Jolly Ranchers,

Got you feeling high and shine like freshly lit turpentine,

Toss you around like a dog mauling a doll with its crunchers.


I ain’t no Shakespeare,

No Allan Poe,

But I got shakes here,

Battling with a very visible foe,

Melanin brewed in my skin,

Team lightskin and darkskin

Yet still blacker than the shadiest night.

They got us chasing our shadows on the wall,

Fists bleeding


Going bump bump bump,

They spitting red

Kinda like Friday the 13th

Starring Krueger Fred.

They carve us alive.

Sane and whole


Call’em Hannibal,


Standing preaching about colour

Like day and night belong with each other.


I speak about my reality,

May not be the truth to you

But it ain’t no fantasy

Kidnapping kids

Hear ‘em shrieking

They leading us lambs to the slaughter

For their fine gourmet dinners

Then we go silent,


Cos we wolves in sheepskins

Call us shape shifters


Children of the dark

You call us niggers



Imma spit Amharic

Cos we children of the Negus

Ask the Weeknd

He gon’ tell you.

We got that high power

Free wheelin’

Like free Willie.

Black is the colour

Black is the night

Black is the past

It ain’t a colour

It’s everything not light,

An absolute

And after we got y’all running scared

We gon’ settle you down

Break bread

But more importantly

We say Grace.



Black power

Own it

Cos we insurrect


King Kong


In the face of violence

Never stand down.

This is a public service announcement kind courtesy of Know yourself.


© Sena Frost 2k16

image courtesy @ghanaposts on Instagram

Mental Blues

“Cudjoe! Cudjoe! Wake up!” I heard the voice from far away. Then I felt my body rising and my feet planted to the ground. Half asleep I was marched to the bathroom. Still groggy I was placed on the toilet seat. I did my thing. Next up the bath. Now that got me wide awake. I blinked as my body was washed down. “Today I don’t have a sore anywhere.” Bath over I was shunted back to the bathroom and mama was waiting for me. Pomade slathered and school shorts worn. My breakfast singlet was on in case I soiled myself.

I hurried back to the hall and waited. Mama finished up and set the table for me. Oats! Bleh. I don’t like oats because if you don’t eat it fast it becomes runny and cold. Daddy was done dressing for work and swiftly he was out of sight. I looked out the window. The sun was just rising.

It never failed to confuse me; in my English textbook little boys and girls woke up when the sun rose and always when the cock crowed. Daddy always woke me up while it was still dark, rarely ever being gentle. I frowned. Mama yelled at me. “Hurry up and finish eating.” I dug in.

A few moments later I was hopping down the stairs out the front door. Joe and co were just around the corner. We quickly walked the way to school. Daniel broke it first. “Cudjoe did you learn the times table?” My expression changed. “Ms. Sowah said today we will do mental.” The others nodded in approval. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s be saying it.” As we turned down the street to the toy store the refrain could be heard. “Two-One-Two! Two-Two-Four! Two-Three-Six!” by the time we reached the store we were on the six times table. After six we stopped because seven was hard. If only we knew what lay in store for us.

We raced across the zebra crossing in front of the school. We greeted the watchman who let us in. His nickname was xylophone because rumours had it he couldn’t spell xylophone. We clambered up the stairs to class three. No one else in the class had come. I fingered the five hundred coin in my pocket. “Let’s go and buy chips eh.” Roland suggested. I shook my head. He always brought thousand to school. He could buy anything he wanted before school started, first break and second break.

Daniel and Joe were already looking through their bags. It was time for races. I fished around my bag. Daniel had found his races car by then. It was a beauty. Blue and silver and with all four tyres still intact. I emptied my bag. Nothing! I sat on my table. Mama must have taken it out. I could only sit and watch as they ran around the classroom with their cars. The girls started coming into the class. Awurakua and her friends. They were loud and could beat you if you got into trouble with them.

Bored I leaned closer as they sat a few chairs away from me. They were saying the times table. And it wasn’t the six times table, it was nine! Nine times table! Amazed I shouted at them. “Ms. Sowah hasn’t taught us that one. Why are you learning it?” Dorcas, a tall girl (tallest in the class actually) looked directly at me. “Be there and be saying Ms. Sowah hasn’t taught us. She will beat you if you can’t say it.” The girls chimed in. There was something unpleasant about the way they sounded.

I looked at my friends busy with their cars. I sat with the girls and listened. A few minutes later the bell rang for assembly. We gathered round the front of the school. Assembly was long. I looked over at the girls standing in front of us. They were smiling. I turned around to look at my friends and the rest of the boys. They were talking about a film one of them had seen earlier.

Assembly ended and we walked back to class. I got to my seat and sat down. I took out my exercise book with the times table at the back. I looked beyond the six times table. I might as well have been watching a Chinese film.

Ms. Sowah walked into the class. She was fair and tall and hardly ever smiled. I didn’t like her. I remember the first time she taught us English. She told us that the baby duck is called a cygnet. I had read a book titled The Ugly Duckling so I knew that a baby duck is called a duckling. She called me to the front of the class and beat me. There was another time during dictation when I had written down all the words while we were reading the passage. While going around during dictation I was not writing. She beat me again. It was like I was always upsetting her. I looked at her and frowned. The class rose and chorused. “Good Morning madam.” We went through the greeting. She took a piece of chalk and wrote the dreaded word on the blackboard. Mental.

A collective hush went across the back of the classroom when the chalk stopped moving. I turned over to look at Ebo in the next row. His ears were wiggling. His shorts were wet from wee weeing on himself and he looked frightened. “Today,” Ms. Sowah announced. “We are starting the times table from six times table.” She picked up her cane from the cupboard. A lump formed in my throat.

We stumbled through the six, seven, eight and nine times table. Ms. Sowah paced up and down the rows. “Row one!” she barked. “Seven times table.” I was in row three. I pulled my exercise book out again. She caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and quickly walked up to me. “Cudjoe!” she was smiling. I rose and looked her in the eye. “Say the nine times table.” There was an ugly look in her eyes. I looked up at the cane hovering over my head and gulped.

I began. “Nine- One…”



Image courtesy Getty Images

Wolf’s Howl (Tribute to Jacob Black of the Twilight Saga)

I suppose I feel some solidarity with Jacob,

Left out in the cold while you laughed and danced with the Cullens,

Arching against the marble statue that was Edward.

Even though he broke you and left,

Whispering not a good bye.

I was there,

As you willed yourself to hurt

Hurtling off cliffs

Flying on bikes

My graceful swan.

I watched over you

A warm igloo in the snow-scape you found yourself in.

I understand,

His shadow towers over me,

Far reaching into the corners of our love that never was.

I suppose you won’t let the dog into the house anymore.

I would give myself for who you are

Because I’m not here anymore without you.

You will never know how much

How much you mean to me,

You are,

My sun,

My light,

My song of fire and ice,

My queen,

My personal tragedy.

Day runs into twilight

Into night,


You remain,

My love eternal.


© Sena Frost 2k16

Image courtesy