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Poetry is wonderful in that, like any genuine creative act, it represents a gift both to the writer and to the reader. I like to write poetry and I am surrounded by very creative people, capable of writing beautiful poetry.  This page is dedicated to the poets in my life.  In this page, I'll share my own poetry and the poetry of those brave enough to loiter on the this poets' corner.

I hope you enjoy some of these.  There are no real themes, possibly other than love, which in any event is at the root of all poetry.

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

Simon Des-Etages

Space Background 2

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
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

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

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.


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 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


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
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



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


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


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




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)

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

Walking dude

No words or thoughts

I have no words or thoughts
To shun a flower's grace
Cause her to shed her petals
And in shame to hide her face
I have no words or thoughts
To dull the crescent moon
Its smile defy the heavens
As it leaves the sky too soon
I have no words or thoughts
To change a butterfly
Replace her wings with feathers
Then watch her crash and die
I have no words or thoughts
To change a mother's heart
To turn her pain to gladness
When child and she must part
I have no words or thoughts
To make your more much less
The you I fear reflects my worst
Yet you always reflect my best
(April 2011) 

Walking dude

Shooting stars
Like shooting stars we scream across the sky
We blaze bright light until we fade and die
For most we are a mystery missed and unseen
For a few we are the beginning, the end and the in between
And when we fade there's few who really care
Just those closest stars we pass
In whose lives and loves we share
We are shooting stars that light the evening sky
Who well before the dawn arrives
Bid those who have known us a bitter sweet goodbye

March, 2015 

Amber's Flower Shop
300 Baker Avenue
Concord, MA 01742
Tel: 1-800-555-1212
Choose a picture from the Gallery

 The Circle
First my rosey red cheeked grandfather
God bless his soul
Then my distant grandmother 
God bless her soul
The my soft skinned maka
God bless her soul
Then my beloved mother
God bless her soul
Then my beautiful spiritual father
God bless his soul
Then my beautiful little granddaughter 
May she live with rosey cheeks
Flushed with love and spirit
Soft skin like silk so milky soft
We’ll fly by night to feel it
May she love and be loved 
And express a golden spirit
May all who came before her
Form a circle of love and keep her
Safe within it.
25 March, 2016 

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