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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)

by S Kojo Frimpong

 Posted by: S Kojo Frimpong

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