Pause. Walk. Pause. Walk,

Shapes against the lights,
They pause, they walk, they pause, they walk,
Every second a moment of paused fame.
Like a still motion.
Their eyes gleam more than their faces,
Their feet mount wood and stone,
Their arms flail and swing,
And their veils wave with the dance
Flashing explosions blind them,
Yet they hold their stance,
And retreat into the shadows,
With the grace of swans and cats,
Ghosts of flesh and blood,
Who cast spells without an abracadabra
And those who call them vain,
Miss the point of their passage
As they sway, they send a message
A message to the outside world
About culture, tourism and occupation to many nations

So they can brighten their destination
With the little lights, they spark in their corner
Bringing honor to themselves and all men
With their images flaunting on the wire
They put food on their tables
With their faces on walls, they make a living
This is how they make ends meet
All their sweet is in their body
And out of these sweet on red carpets
Amidst flashlights and thunderous applauds
They put smiles on our faces
And give us a different meaning to beauty
The true definition of beauty is in the ashes
That burns from the passion within to exhibit what is glamorous

Appearances in spite of all the ugliness in the world

They make the world disappear with just a smile
And with a flip of their fingers, they create a new world

S Kojo Frimpong
(Poems From The Graves)