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Tampered Press

fiction1

WON’T YOU EAT AGAIN?

Fiction by Akorfa Dawson WON’T YOU EAT AGAIN? We used to eat together in one big bowl, all of us: the six Baidoo children. Immediately you see us anywhere, no one needs to tell you that we are related, from the way we squint when we are deep in thoughts,...
June 29, 2021
poetry1

SEEING ME

Poetry by Lemuel Nortey SEEING ME I become the walking idea Of what you love, And then I fall in love with who I become for you, Through the haze of it all I see you try Really try to fix the broken parts Of me I let you see,...
June 23, 2021
Tampered-Press-Issue-5-cover

Issue No. 5

None of us quite expected to be real-time witnesses of a pandemic. But in the year of 2020, as the universe saw it fit, a pandemic enveloped the world. And with it came a lot of readjustments and bewilderments. As if a pandemic isn’t enough, everything else is bleeding. 2020…

February 16, 2021
parkour

Parkour

Fiction by Elfreda Tetteh 1 On the day that Johnson falls, he is thinking of heading to the bridge. During the class break, he stands outside and tries to fold himself in the corner, all sharp joints and school-approved colours. Even so, he hears Garu and the rest of the...
November 24, 2020
written-misconception

A Written Misconception

Fiction by Nana Yaa Osei Every day that I don’t write is laced with an echo of regret. It pains my children that I have not traced my emotions, ideas and thoughts down to them. They borrow and buy a means of transport through time and form themselves in a...
November 24, 2020
issue3-poetry-background-Recovered

CAGED BEAUTY

Poetry by Wendy Appenteng Daniels CAGED BEAUTY (I see) beauty that refuses to unravel itself. (I see) beauty who dares not to reveal itself. Mine is beauty that offends, mine is beauty that scares, so why announce myself? I learnt the hard way that by shielding myself, I learnt the...
November 24, 2020
food

Food for thought

Poetry by Maame Agyeben Food for thought   Would you have only me as your morning waakye your evening jollof Sunday fufu light soup spooned fresh from the pot?   I miss you, you know but you are thinking of food perhaps for times you could not eat the years...
November 8, 2020
god

God Loves The Unbeliever

Fiction by Tim Banks                  They called him Mr Glenfiddich because that's all he drank. Nobody knew anything about him except that everything he owned was expensive and new. The people in his neighbourhood would suck their teeth when he drove past in...
November 6, 2020
free

Free

Poetry by Grace Louise Wood Free (In loving memory of George Floyd) Red grinning mouths said we were free, through gleaming teeth set in polished skulls; though we still felt the bite of dogs, chains, nooses kneecaps on necks, devouring our air before we could breathe. Free shouldn’t feel like...
November 4, 2020
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