The Palace in the SlumsA Poem by Dennis Carlo PremacioOnce in the slums.there’s a palace in the slums. every night it holds a feast. fancy lights up there festooned, illuminates the sober moon that has her underneath a sad and ghastly place; but the palace in the slums takes the sadness off its face. there are songs by the angels. there is food for the gods. there are tables for royals enough for them who never had time for heavenly songs, swarming dosh for nutrition, golden merit for royalty; the slum knows no profusion. the palace in the slums holds a feast for children. young souls of a land broken may come inside the festive heaven and sing the songs of angels, eat the food of the gods, sit at royal tables and watch the lights from up above. the children of the slums go in there every night, inside that palace that stands aloof from its hostile neighbors of putrid sight. the palace in the slums is host for these lovely children but there is no one around come the day as the sun awakens. no one around, too, every night of jubilant feast. no one that welcomes or opens the door at least. no man has been seen inside the palace in the slums; but there is word that in dawn the children hear a distant hum of a song by a child up there in the yellow room of the palace in the slums-- and the child seems in gloom. the children bid goodbye to whoever is inside that mellow yellow room of the gloomy humming child. the gloomy humming child dreams a dream every night. in that dream is a palace festooned by festive lights. in that dream are sad young souls making their way inside. in that dream he lets them be, lets them enjoy as he watches by inside his mellow yellow room in the palace that he made. he watches them below until his dream will fade. as dawn comes near the child hums a song; a sad song like his dream that will never be for long. his song wakes him up and the dreamy dream is gone. he lies on a makeshift bed alongside children of the slums. © 2014 Dennis Carlo PremacioAuthor's Note
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