by George C. Palaganas a.k.a. Cool Dela Peña
It came upon a mist on a rare remedy
heightened paramours so chaste in its glory
a place so charmed and ubiquitously marvelled
for talents in clusters abound.
Beauty spoken by a gait
a smiling perfection moribund in fecundity
sharp, demure, a remarkable expression
for delightfully secure in its bossom.
Artists of the highest degree and calibre
mingle and barter their secrets of the trade
a cache of recorded passion, captured in media
of something magnetic or in canvass to be gripped.
A feeling of serendipity, humongous and equipped
respect on adulation in their command has zipped
gamed innocence for tomorrow's edifice
of embroidered duty with intricacy of a keep.
Ardour in exuberance, so wide in deliverance
steep in the penalties of consumed ignominy
not from afar was a caisoned laryngoscopy
a new breed of songs that's so insightful so to speak.
God has never made a place so familiar
where people are people, where they want to be
while-away in bars, stride and strive,
never to be hindered of a struggle in fashion.
A soulful rendition, a skillful stroke,
the artist in voice or the artist by hands
meet in a perfect tee in a place like no other
a street so famed in cognizance of a lather.
A star has risen! A star is born!
jump on a fast track, stare on a cradle,
come and be filled with joy,
on a tin-pan alley called Robsontrasse.

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Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

cooledelapenia’s Poems (10)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Today is the day, at Westminster Abbey 0
On A Park Called Stanley 0
99 Cents Pizza 0
A Fun On A Summer Where 2
Under The Burrard Bridge 1
Robsontrasse 0
THE Siwash ROCK 0
A Christmas Carol 1
Lowly Coffee Trees and Vine 2
The Rhubarbs Of Hail Lavander 1