My Inspiration: Can you see past the perfection in your life of solitude to the opportunity of your life shared with another.    Dear Lady Grey Dear lady grey Your garden smells so sweet And surely it would smell that way If ne’re we were to meet Yet with whom to wonder on lazy days To share your garden’s treasures And perchance amongst its flowers Turn companions into lovers August 2007 Click to listen to the poem

The Poet's Choice Why the silent moments? Not even whispers find their way Though thoughts of love are many Deep inside those thoughts words stay Do they hide behind old memories? And shroud themselves in fear Perhaps when love last spoke out loud She listened but didn’t hear Unlike flowers in a garden With no one to admire Love words will rarely blossom When the listeners of them tire So why the silent moments When poets find no voice Is it a lover’s listening ? Or just the poet’s choice. August 2007

To Jackson Heights, Queens The Lonely Lover Love’s light Shines bright Even in the black of night It warms when cold arrives When longings crave a voice She finds words through the blue haze And wooed by her lover’s thoughts sends the softest kiss Solace for the lonely lover Comfort for the night Tender arms till morning arrives With one less day of distance And one more day of thanks For the gift of another’s love in one’s life. To Times Square, Manhattan: Dance of the Distant Lover This Platform has seen me before In colder climbs I have missed you here And now like then my journey’s end will bring no relief Just a familiar friend, my melancholy me, Though tonight with jazz and hidden stars Moonlight dulled by brightly lit metro cars I dance the dance of the distant lover Thought in desire we sway together and in our embrace I forget the chatter of others And for a moment experience love’s eternal poetic promise.    Written on the New York subway to and from Queen’s May 28th 2007 Click to listen to the Poem

The Promise of it All Would that my love find words in every moment Poems flowing like Babylonian rain Falling with relentless regularity The skies of my soul filled with Auroral splendor Pouring out their essence Forming oceans of thoughts and desires Each more sublime than the other Would that I launch infinite paper arks to save the most precious for you Filling infinite pages with Infinite feelings Compiling a tome of infinite Proportions Or would that my words give way to actions For too many a romantic musing has found it’s way to oblivion It’s purpose only to connive a lustful moment or serve an end One’s life reflects ones deeds and not one’s words Unless the two be always bound by integrity Love spoken is not love expressed as love is for words be a clumsy fool in the court of its majesty When silence makes lovers of us Then truly love has found its mark What then? Would that my words reflect my actions Would that my actions reflect my love Would that they be inextricably bound by integrity and expressed with clarity and purpose, poetry, silence and verse Would that my life express the balance of the universe Creating space for every expression Would that my love be all that it may Would that our lives reflect the all that we are Would that our love reflect the promise of it all. September 2007

Simon Des-Etages

Just how beautiful you are Who am I that I should accept your perception of me  I am beautiful You may see me this way or that but let me tell you I am beautiful Sometimes I say and do things out of anger or frustration and that doesn’t change that fact that I am beautiful I may look a little worse for wear sometimes but notwithstanding how I look to you or anyone else I am beautiful Beauty doesn’t place me above or below you It isn’t something that feeds my ego I do not trade on it nor laud it over you It doesn’t add or detract from who I am It is simply who I am Don’t you know that if you really knew me for who I am and not for who you want me to be If you dropped your expectations and judgments of me If you loved yourself unconditionally and so were able to love me unconditionally for who I am There could be no other conclusion but that I am beautiful And in recognizing that I am beautiful You too would see just how beautiful you are. (2004)

He Always Never I live in the land of always Where the words of my lovers seem to repeat themselves And the sameness of things obviates the need to delve And the people in my life never change their ways They just ebb and tide like the monotony of waves I live in the land of never, where no one has a chance As their words are uttered I strike them down with my trusty, verbal lance Where listening isn’t listening but a fake, ritual dance Like eating up their words then spitting them secretly into potted plants I live in the land of always, where nothing ever grows But a sense of the familiar and that I’m the only one that knows I have lost the wonder of difference, whatever that really means And exchanged the moments wonder, for a series of historic, repetitive themes I am stuck in time and wishful for things that never come He always say the same thing and never understands.   Click to listen to the poem

Simon Des-Etages

My Inspiration: Approaching JFK by plane one night, I am taken by the beautiful lights on the ground, yet saddened that their glow has caused the more beautiful night sky and stars to fade. Of the Moon and the Stars be Proud See how the twinkling lights fill the earth They have turned night skies grey from black And with the change in hue The stars have gone and I fear may never come back Are the rivers of light worthy of lovers? Can we woo within their glow?  Or will the lights below become so bright That night will vanish and even the lovers' moon find no where to go Though they have their own magic From up here in the clouds I wish the city lights would dull and of the stars and the moon be proud. Click here to listen to poem

The You of Me How could 'I' tire of 'you' Do you not understand who we are I am the trailing light of your shooting star I am the salt in your ocean The sky in your night The bloom on your petals The eyes of your sight I am the blow in your wind The crack of your whip The words of your story The float of your ship I am your reflection in the mirror The shine of your sun The soft of your cotton The steps in your run I am the strands of your hair The rest in your sleep The heat of your fire The slope in your steep We are the start and the finish and the everything in between We are every note of every harmony that every choir will ever sing How could 'I' tire of 'you' There is something that you may have missed Without the you of me my love 'You' and 'I' would not exist.

Sorry Sorry Maka, I didn’t cry when you died It’s alright grandson, nothing’s wrong Sorry Deka, I didn’t cry when you died It’s ok grandson, nothing’s wrong Sorry Uncle Calvin, I didn’t cry when you died It’s alright nephew, nothing’s wrong Sorry grandmother, I didn’t cry when you died, It’s alright grandson, nothing’s wrong Sorry weeka Tomi, I didn’t cry when you died It’s alright nephew, nothing's wrong Sorry Chika Juro, I didn’t cry when you died And I paid little attention to your suffering, It’s ok nephew, nothing’s wrong Sorry father, I didn’t cry when you were stabbed and made homeless It’s alright son, nothing’s wrong Sorry mother, I didn’t cry when you run from our home It’s ok son, nothings wrong Sorry Mana, I didn’t cry when I heard about your son’s illness It’s alright brother, nothing’s wrong Despite who I appear to be, I love you all Despite who I have been, I love you all Despite my silence and dry eyes, I love you all. I love you all And we love you and nothing’s wrong.

Danielle Des-Etages

Who was she Who was she that wise little one Peaceful and calm Exuding love Helplessly in control of me Each breath I followed Inhaling and exhaling with hers Each twitch and grimace Brought both excitement and fear And you should have seen me smile What a smile All teeth enjoying the blessed new experience of fatherhood An angel in my arms Who was she that lay upon my chest closed her eyes and after hard day helped me rest Chocolate covered hands and face A grinning, cheeky disgrace My beautiful little one Who was she that held my hand into a brand new world of little boys and little girls Jacket, skirt and hat far too big for such a tiny head Trusting my words, it's ok beautiful It's ok, you'll be fine Who was she that rushed ahead Exchanging my hand for a friend's instead Finding herself funny, finding herself creative, finding herself and shedding the skin that once melted into mine No time to waste, this independent little girl had plans Who was she that danced and skipped into the ocean without fear Sang songs with me so sweet and clear Chose her favourite meals from her favourite diner Painted pots and plates, rode her bike and blades and grew up before me progressively faster and faster Who was she that found fashion and style Cute pony tales and an even cuter smile Discovered her sensuality, maybe a little too soon And humour and personality to fill even the largest room Who is she that now loves another Who talks of marriage and of my giving her a new baby brother All grown up, an articulate young woman My friend, my daughter for whom my heart since her first moments did swell My inimitable, gorgeous, passionate eldest child, Danielle (2006)

Katya Des-Etages

Teenage Choice My little girl has lost her voice A not unusual teenage choice I know she'll find it once again Although I can't be sure quite when (October 2007)

Danielle Des-Etages

The Move (Comfort for the Pack Rats) As we jettison our collections of things Reflecting on their meaning Choking on nostalgia As we empty our cupboards and closets, our lofts and garages As we clear our underbeds Holding our breath in the clouds of dust As we watch our things disappear into junk shops, Dump trucks, dustbins, skips and others' homes As we say goodbye to the old and odd The obsolete and awkward The too much to keep The wish I had room for As we dispense with the purchased The once coveted The gifts of yesteryear The malformed clay pots and clumsy yet inspired colorful paintings of our little ones Remember please we lose no memories Forsake no love Dispense with no friend, child, mother, father, sister or brother We remain complete The most precious things we own Indestructible Immutable Eternal Don't cry for the end of things of little meaning Celebrate the infinity of things that never die The true and divine matter of our lives The things we can never buy. (November 2007)

Katya Des-Etages

My Inspiration: While watching Mira Nair's movie "The Namesake", I was struck by a scene in which youths played in the Ganges while the ashes of a father were scattered in the water next to them.  What a strange and beautiful relationship they had with the dead.      To Bathe in the Ganges I bathed in the river with the dead Their blood run dark grey and not red We kissed with each mouth full of water and danced on a silty soft bed They had gathered like brothers and sisters No real difference between them at all As I splashed the brown water around me Like the rain from the heavens they'd fall I bathed in the river with the departed Each arrived with solemnity and prayer Yet now in the glare of the noon day sun Neither I nor they had a care I bathed in the river with the forgotten With the missed, with the mourned and their kin Should I sit on the banks of the river Some would join me like salt on my skin Who are they, these ghosts in the river These spectors that move with the tides Who are they that when waters do settle down below in the murky depth hide Who are we, just moments behind them Should we fear the journey ahead Or simply enjoy the cool water As we bathe in the sun with the dead (January 2008) Click here to listen to poem

Katya Des-Etages

Patience Patience The ability to listen To thread rope through the narrow space between wrong and right The willingness to save a thought forever To replace belief with knowledge Understanding with faith Judgment with love Patience To exchange time for eternity To embrace the perfection of all outcomes To find direction in the completeness of nothing To take nothing and give everything To find oneself larger than the self and smaller than the whole To give up the attachment and embrace the unknown Patience The distance between here and now The difference between life and death The smile The nod The grateful other A peaceful end to a difficult beginning. (April 2008)

Danielle Des-Etages

The Step Child   Why a “step” child When the distance from     Step         to             Child Can sometimes feel infinite Will I ever open my heart and sing her lullabies Feel her pain when she falls and cries Hold her hand as if it were my own Share free moments with her rather than be alone The truth is I am no match for this eight year old In this particular journey she has me beaten cold I am already greeted with glee and many a tale I am becoming a daddy in whose image most other men will pale So I will keep trying while she leads the way Accepting who I am while growing into the man I want to be A father who embraces with all my love Not two beautiful girls of my own But three. (September 2008)

Danielle Des-Etages

Why don't you listen (hard enough)? If you listen hard enough You can hear the chirping birds Singing above the screaming cars The gushing expletives of angry men And the inconsolable babies Why don’t you listen? If you listen hard enough You can hear the silence within the city In which the deafening noise Finds its home Why don’t you listen? If you listen hard enough you can Hear the wind in the trees Ushering the end of summer And welcoming the fall Why don’t you listen? If you listen hard enough you You can hear angels singing Amongst the petals of the Colorful storefront bouquets Decorating the grimy, urban walkways Why don’t you listen? If you listen hard enough You can hear a thousand islands And cities, continents and countries Cultures and traditions Flowing like rivers from the mouths of passers by into the swelling oceans of your understanding Why don’t you listen? If you listen hard enough You can hear the blood of the city Coursing through its veins Arteries of roads for cars Pavements for feet and Tunnels for subway trains    Why don’t you listen?   If you listen hard enough You will hear what she feels Feel what she says Say what she needs And know who she is   Why don't you listen?   If you listen hard enough Somewhere in the depth of your being Hidden behind clouds of mistrust and fear Disappointment and dislocation You will hear a familiar voice repeating Itself in hopes that one-day you will Hear it and know why it asks   Why don't you listen?   (October 2008)

Katya Des-Etages

I Never Ask (Really) If you think you never ask Then ask yourself why Is your asking in your giving And your giving really a lie (October 2008)

His Penetrating Light I had no idea how small I had made myself Frightened by an idea that maybe it could be me Out numbered by colleagues, superiors, political and industry leaders with Straight hair and long noses Thin lips, blue eyes and nasal tones I had no idea how small I had made myself Unbelieving Skeptical that I might one day shine amongst the Brightest stars Cast a light bright enough to blur through brilliant white the distinctions between us The distinctions that silently enslaved me The differences that caused you fear and Had you withhold your welcome and respect I had no idea how small I had made myself Stretching myself only as far as I could see And I could not see beyond my fears I could not dream beyond my insecurities I could not speak my own mind as a man Instead I spoke with the whispered tones of a child Simple words that formed an impenetrable circle Out of which I could not venture Words of mistrust Words of the victim Words of black and white The understanding, intellectual negro Able to jive all day My vision so clear I would watch myself Disappear into ground meat as I stepped each day into the grinder I had no idea how small I had made myself My potential poured away like stale water Who should I be? From behind whose shadows could I step Other powerful talkers Erstwhile walkers Success stalkers The dreamers who would be gods The gods who would be but for the very same fog that obscured my own vision and belief I had no idea how small I had made myself Denying my completeness I did not know I needed someone to lead the way To race to the top of the hill without stopping when I would stop exhausted Believing the journey possible When I saw impossibility Someone to set the pace To prove me wrong Someone to make the magnificent me as normal and mundane as the magnificent him or her I had no idea how small I had made myself How small we had made ourselves But look now how our ambitions stretch into eternity How we are drawn to step up our game Whether painter, preacher or professional someone The glass ceiling gone If it was ever anything more than our willingness To defeat ourselves The life path of my children and their children Now cleared of brush weed and thick jungle Self doubt and fears of majesty I had no idea how small I had made myself But now I humble myself before the magnificence Of another I thank god for the coming of Barak Obama Someone in whose image I recognize myself A man in whom I see a god that knows me A black man whose courage has set me free I had no idea how small I had made myself But now in the penetrating light of a brother who Refused to make himself small I see.

A parents worth The mighty oaks spread branches wide To shade the sapling trees When Autumn’s cool arrives They cover them with golden leaves The seasons pass rain, sun and snow While limbs grow long and sturdy The older trees decline and bow As younger trees prove worthy And when with crashing thunder Proud old oak trees meet their end Once sapling trees their parents gone Towards the heavens wend From acorns comes new birth As roots begin to spread In nurturing soils rich black and moist The young feed on the dead And so the natural course of things Gives life to those that follow A parents worth begins at birth And last well past tomorrow (February 22 2009)

My Daughter She Left Home Today My daughter she moved out today She packed a car and left And now the home that once we shared Feels lonely and bereft   She headed off to college And filled her college room With pictures, paints and bottle tops And dolls she likes to groom   My daughter met new friends today And none of them I know I hope they’ll be supportive And that none become her foe   My eldest she grew up today Though to me she looks so young Still fits inside my palm so snug Her head rest on my thumb   My daughter said goodbye today To all her childish ways Although I’m sure she’ll still come home For Christmas and birthdays   My daughter left her mother And her sister back at home I know they miss her now Far more than she will ever know   My daughter lives across an ocean In a land far, far away Yet today she feels much further Than she did just yesterday   You see it’s not the change in distance That overwhelms me so It’s the goodbye to little fingers Curly tops and twinkle toes.   September 26th 2009

Simon Des-Etages

It’s Too Early And you think you’re badly off Playing a mournful early morning blues As you wash the warm water from Face, chest and stomach Have you ever heard the moans of The trucks as they drag themselves Through the city streets on dark winter mornings Or the screech of the subway trains as They are forced, yet again, to cut short their Run for freedom to load another burden of Tired, frustrated travelers Threatening to break their backs and force Them to an early retirement Scratching names and obscenities painfully into their windows Blinding them from the sooty, dark subterranean world in which they dwell Have you heard the wail of the winter winds Looking for comfort through window cracks and Under doors, whipped and Beaten by the trees and buildings that Obstruct them Have you heard the whine of the planes As we force them skywards for another Long haul, over freezing oceans, through Dark lonely skies to destination of our choosing Never of theirsWhat about the cars whose Sensitive skins at 5.00 am burn at the touch of a stranger Screaming their alarm in confused Shrill tones, leave me, leave me, leave me We are not so poorly off my friend We are better off than you think Luxuriating in early mornings Under hot showers, Spinning poems out of ink Plenty of time to be creative and more Than enough time to think It’s too early to rise and yet to soon to write off another day    January 2010

Wish she could hide If she bends to your will She’ll be breaking For fear is a powerful force Yet the stem of a flower Embraces the power As the wind takes its natural course She might fight the good fight till she’s tired And prefer an ignorant void But in time she will learn That some lessons will turn On the breath of a frustrating voice Yes freedom is always exciting It’s a road that offers no end But the forks that appear Some will hope with a sneer For an ill informed, know it all choice I am not afraid to be certain And to cause her to question my way For it’s love that informs my decisions And I’m certain she’ll know that one day So set aside your fears my darling There is nothing but love you’ll find here Even though there are times When you wish she could hide Or that I would somehow disappear.  February 2010

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