Best Deja Poems
In the name of a certain Kennedy
I hope you'll take me seriously
Ask not what 2024 can do for you
Ask what you can add
~ and follow through
When jasmine scents the springtime air
A deja vu begins to bloom
A lovely flower ever near
A memory caught in its perfume
When a summer breeze kisses azure skies
and a certain song begins to play
A deja vu begins to rise
As in the melody you sway
A place called Copenhagen, do you know its song?
Joy and laughter safely ride waves of light.,
and summer days are twenty-five hours long.
Do you still hear the sprocket's cadence and pedals din..
our hearts saying "follow me!" to clamour, and climax in sun,
along the perch fishing canals and Strøget's shops.
You wore Pegasus sandals and a Nørgaard 101 striped t-shirt.,. two sizes too small,
our bikes were true friends, our chains sang in unison,
to the lonely smiles of the raggedy ann town folk.
From the biergarten our parents look on..
sipping Carlsberg Pilsner and Mulberry Aquavit snaps.
Just a hint of sadness hidden behind sunglasses,
they knew that innocent sun too..
Let's sup on ourselves unrepentant,
where no one else can dine.
Your basket holds sweet fruit of existence..
the fresh bread of light in mine.
We'll make a pact to return one day,
where sunshine brightens the May,
and If the clouds turn to grey,
or we're separated by a crowd of strangers..
I'll look for you at the center, searching through the bins,
for what two foolish lovers threw away..
Among Kewpie dolls, sandals & scarves,
clothed déjà vu dreams abound.
Yet true hearts yearn for eternity still,
in Tivoli Garden's lost and found.
I just keep seeing them, the hooves pounding those old rain-soaked cobblestones, somewhere in the back of my mind. I feel the creeping fog against someone else’s skin, not mine.
An old iron lamp post and that old lamplighter, impressions are burned into my third eye. I knew him in another lifetime. I’ve traversed so much time, so many centuries in brief seconds.
All of my senses succumb to the lamp’s flame as it burns the oil and the scent of that old pipe that he smokes, this lamplighter.
Who is the woman in lace whose body, in which I am? From whose eyes do I look out over this emerald landscape from bluestone walls? She does not know the lamplighter in that other place. She lived four centuries before him, yet she is inside my head...my body.
Past lives reside in the soul’s backpack. We carry them through numerous incarnations and occasionally a memory escapes to speak, when we need it the most.
2-20-2023
Deja vu Poetry Contest
Unseeking Seeker
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
logic says it cannot be so
have we walked through a time warp door
we can rest not, until we know
perhaps we’re perched on time’s hilltop
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
reality shifts, doubts don’t stop
truth of what is, we can’t ignore
yielding, we give silence the floor
whence we see that life is a dream
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
refrains replayed on a moonbeam
mind illumined, heart sings a song
clairvoyance affirmed in folklore
though now we know, we play along
déjà vu; we’ve seen this before
Deja Vu
Alas, we compose poetry to impress others with our brilliant
brains, hapless wit, sexy bodies, or holy sanctimony.
All foolhardiness if you think of it, and an exercise in utter, grandiose
egotistical folly!
Just be you, never hurt another poet here.
Because when you do, Deja Vu is coming for you next, my dear!
December 8, 2019
I only speak french to people i think i have seen before
As crashing waves collide with sand,
It’s pictured in the water's sway–
relentless, as a tide's demand
to wash the tracks of yesterday.
Yet, as it ebbs, new prints appear
in place of those erased by sea;
each step an echo, crisp and clear,
a silent, screaming memory.
Her eyes, like windows to the past,
as forceful as the ocean's surge–
to heal, then break me just as fast
when sky and sea begin to merge.
And she’ll not feel this déjà vu
or hear your echo in her voice;
but in her blood, she’ll carry you
and mirrors never have a choice.
The salty sea can sting so deep
when sprinkled on my wounded skin;
you walk beside her while you sleep
and reach me from the grave you're in.
Checking for precept in déjà vu preview
Abstaining from the way monkeys do
Building a meaningful relationship with you
Will you be a precept of Adam’s rib come into view
The concept of fleshly rib is just not déjà vu
No logic of flesh has ever been true for you
Seeking new wine of déjà vu preview
From sacred heart playing it by ear for you
I will ascribe to no bribe, of Pharisee scribe
No carnal works of past hobbies shall abide
We shall observe that which is true.. in the sky clear and blue
As heavenly particles of spiritual bliss come into view
The man shall command and flesh will not withstand
Brides shall abide in beauty and pride of Agape confide
For as the way a human concept see, is the way it shall ever be
And the logic by which it sees… shall infest of fleas
For as a man thinketh so shall he ever be…
In the logic of self pride, until Agape confide
Dedicated to Robbie, most current Agape hobby
She encouraged the adamant… Agape, grown sloppy.
by John Moses Freeman
Alliteration
Associationism
Anteposition
All by myself again,
peering through my open window.
I watched a familiar solitary, silvery moth,
diving, flicking, rising, falling, haphazardly flying,
drawn to my hot naked luminescent porch bulb.
No longer threatened by his mere erotic presence,
I methodically snapped off the switch.
He slipped back into the darkness,
just as he had done last night and the night before.
Once more I regained control but will he return?
Will he bring others?
For "CHOPPED II" contest.
Have you ever entered in a room?
Where you know you’ve been before?
A place that’s so familiar,
Played back for you once more.
A room where your surroundings
Are clear and can be viewed.
Where you return to finish up
Things you left to do.
A room where nothing changes
Always seems the same,
This place is so familiar
Yet so hard to embrace
A room where life will take you
Show you where you’ve been
A room you remember
It lives in you within
So when you walk into a room
Where it’s so familiar
You know you’ve entered into time
For you has been kept in there
Form:
When as a young boy attending grade school
and I first learned about Custer's last stand,
why did I experience déjà vu
and sense so keenly that far away land?
When as a young boy attending grade school
and I first heard about that manmade hell,
why did I experience déjà vu
and sense so keenly, where many men fell?
When as an adult on that death pocked hill
I finally did chance to walk and stand,
why did I feel such a strange eerie chill
on that bright summer day so warm and bland?
When as an adult on that death pocked hill
looking out over that parched rolling ground,
why did I feel such a strange eerie chill
and silent desperation all around?
When walking down Cemetery ravine
and by a nameless stone I chanced to stop,
why did I sense a dark visage unseen
and terror felt by that trooper who fought?
When walking down Cemetery ravine
and upon ascending the low divide,
why did I sense a dark visage unseen
and feel akin to that trooper who died?
The answers to these things I do not know
nor to many other veiled things I feel,
or how it is I sense just where to go
to locals on the field that seem so real.
I will not try to speculate or guess
by acquired knowledge some might suggest,
but a different reason I confess
might to some others seem actually best.
Deja vu is a product of an old forgotten dream
We once wished to happen before
Giving my heart only to him
But this happens today no more
We once wished to happen before
To be in love forever with each other
But this happens today no more
Forever is now replaced with never
To be in love forever with each other
It is my ultimate dream always
Forever is now replaced with never
Everything's hopeless nowadays
It is my ultimate dream always
Giving my heart only to him
Everything's hopeless nowadays
Deja vu is a product of an old forgotten dream
Aware of déjà vu*’s lexical meaningfulness
my cognition strives to respond with truthfulness
toward preaching about God and His goodness
that drives me back toward nostalgic blissfulness---
at the time He gave me life eternal against worthlessness.
Exposed to déjà vu’s intermittent engagement
my heart thanks the Lord for grace-fulfillment
while reminiscing His assured heavenly settlement
in testifying of divine encounter granting blest endowment---
every time I share peace cheers with encouragement.
Confronted with déjà vu’s seemingly enigmatic nature
my soul, ransomed by the Saviour, avoids mystical venture
for the pursuit of effective faith-posture along mental health nurture
propelled by nourishing compassionate gesture---
when at times, I’m beset with bitterness and pride’s torture.
Learning déjà vu’s facets midst psychological insight
my mind praises Christ for wondrous mental faculties’ height
along recollection, remembering and familiarity delight
bursting “already seen” remark yet with uncertainty-blight---
thus, time I have to check toward accuracy that’s right.
Now facing déjà vu’s essence vis-à-vis factual reality
my spirit believes in moment’s functionality along versatility
never an illusion, but proven by experience in its sensibility
especially when dealing with matters of life’s vitality---
since time* is God’s creation, aiding our existence-verity.
*Psalm 31:14-15 But I trusted in thee, O LORD: I said, Thou art my God. My times are in thy hand…
February 22, 2023
1st place, "STRAND PREMIER no 1194" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/5/2023.