Long Déjà Poems
Long Déjà Poems. Below are the most popular long Déjà by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Déjà poems by poem length and keyword.
How mysterious the ocean is? Helping people to forget and fade their sorrows ,
Yet taking people’s lives away and distributing their families sorrow, Melting everyone’s heart at the beautiful sunset the morrow, Inside the beautiful water body it contains billions of human body too,
The more it is relaxing to the tired person
The more déjà vu it gives to those who have their close ones
How beautiful the ocean is?
The beautiful waves that carries a soothing sound,helping to heal. While the creatures that have taken many lives,
The families begging to save and making appeal.
The more it seems to be very in the water,running and playing.
It all vanishes when the nightmare begins and everyone start praying.
How ancient and restless the ocean is?
Carries secre We dont know
Ancient enough to have seen Adam too
The unstoppable waves,with many secrets
Including creatures,bodies,fossils of the ancient ships, even titanic too
The more you explore the more you see-
Nothing but an endless end of the beautiful and mysterious dream.
Hang on, You're nearly There!
I'm giddy, spinning around,
So near, yet so far.
On the slippery spinning
dip of serendipity.
Making do with the hoodoo of déjà vu.
I've seen that scene before!
On endless recycles
of somewhere when and there.
My prospectus is shod
with slithery wooden clogs.
Tripping, toppling precipitous,
edging ever closer to flying
right off the roundabout
by the whirling surge.
Whizzing around in circles
on the impending.
Barely holding on
with hands and arms,
billowing and centrifuging
in the passing wind.
Reaching outstretched to catch
just what and when,
could be just happening,
could be just passing on by.
Sometimes, when I'm with familiar faces,
I feel like the replay button clicked on.
And I have felt the same thing with places;
it is a weird brain-fart phenomenon.
It is as if I'm replaying a role,
and know the words before they are spoken.
And it feels like time's caught in a loophole;
or possibly, the matrix is broken.
It's a strange sort of vague déjà vu feeling,
that once experienced, soon disappears.
And yet, it often leaves my head reeling;
but fortunately, that fog swiftly clears.
It's a memory I can't account for;
though it feels like I've lived through it before!
At last my secret's out – now I can sit and write a spell.
An author fashions means of flight for dormant clientele.
Away to lofty heights of thought...an album, shall I write,
an album crowded full of poems, senses to incite?
An aspiration presupposes gutsy derring-do
and any dreamer worth his charm will ponder déjà vu.
Ambition is the trying out of things that aren't the norm.
Adventure called my name but duty sounded its alarm.
Awaiting dreams for work at hand was not an easy climb;
appointed answer to my quest, retirement came with time.
Alas! small hope I do fulfill, yet even while I pen;
as adolescent dreams are met, I ask, what might have been?
63VW Bug Domed Home
$300 Empty Wallet,
Waved in Greeting Others "Bugged",
DIY Toolin' Schoolin',
Leakin' Carb Fixit,
Installed & Tighten',
Fired Her Up & Look It,
Engine Lit & Smokin',
Act Fast, Shut Down Fit,
Back to Wrenchin',
Leakin' Porous Gasket,
Déjà Vous Installin',
Finally Fuelin', No Casket,
Then Brakes Not Willin',
Free Fall Down Hill Drastic,
Frantically Emergency Leverin',
Arrived at Bottom Intact,
Sigh of Relief Breathin',
Heat from Engine Extract,
Smelled of Gasolin',
Either Sweatin' or Shiverin' Fact,
What Next? Wheel Fallin'!,
Balancing Acrobat Act,
Shoulder Oasis Seekin',
Rewheel Lug Tightin' Enact,
Pulled Into Shell Station,
One Lookover & Mechanic,
Hung Sign "Dangerous Caution",
"Too Hazardous, Inevitable Panic",
"Stay Off Road, Public Hazard if Run",
Starvin' Student, So "What the Heck?",
Drove Bug 3 More Years, An Eon!,
Careful for the Sake of Pilotin' a Wreck.
Now Can Laugh, I & Others Were Spared Extinction!
Next a Mercedes Diesel 200D Precision but Air Dreck,
Follies of Youth: Survived & Shunned, Relieved Everyone!
I feel like I’m just floating through time like every moment exists on some line. déjà vu is just a tear in the thread that’s holding seconds collectively storing lifetimes from the beginning to the present. Like every single thing is accounted for on someone's bulletin board. Each tragedy, catastrophe, blessing, and new planet-finding, was all planned, and marked on a calendar in the office of the ruler of man. Aka the universe’s manager, God likely is his name. In charge of all the unplanned life layoffs constantly but he is always reassuring us to continue worshiping even if no immediate payment is received. In a beautiful building through a man of flesh and bone, he reassures us we have a place in his home when our timelines come to an end, on their own. Not by quitting, but working until life excuses you and your retirement from him is paid 10folds onto you, with a package of deliverance because you ran until the end of a line, that someone laid before you. Hoping and rooting for you, but knowing everything that is going to happen to you, all the sins that will tempt you, he still gave you the power of choice to choose what is the right thing to do during the line of time, he has lent to me and you.
Winter is gone
It's already midnight
Spring is here
With her flowers and presents
We have a new season
Everyone knows the reason
Since the girls are pretty
And the women wear their best, that's right.
Winter is gone
We are sad, it's madness
The world is crazy and long done
I lost my love, my pride
Things are very different
The aunt smokes in the little tent
Winter is gone
I'm sad and sleepy.
Copyright © March 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
L'Hiver Est Parti
L'hiver est parti
Il est déjà minuit
Le printemps est présent
Avec ses fleurs et des présents
On a une nouvelle saison
Tout le monde connait la raison
Puisque les filles sont jolies
Et les femmes endimanchées et polies.
L'hiver est parti
On est triste, c'est une folie
Le monde est fou et désorienté
J'ai perdu mon amour, ma fierté
Les choses sont très différentes
La tante fume sous la petite tente
L'hiver est parti
Je suis triste et endormi.
Copyright © Mars 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs livres de poésie.
El Invierno Se Fue
?
El invierno se fue
Ya es media noche
La primavera está aquí
Con sus flores y regalos
Tenemos una nueva temporada
Todos saben la razón
Ya que las chicas son bonitas
Y las mujeres vestidas con sus mejores galas.
El invierno se fue
Estamos tristes, es una locura
El mundo está loco y desorientado
Perdí mi amor, mi orgullo
Las cosas son muy diferentes
La tía fuma en la carpa
El invierno se fue
Estoy triste y dormido.
Copyright © Marzo 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados
Hébert Logerie es el autor de varios libros de poesía.
The Stream-Winners
Many a moon, ascending-avatars spent
Eons in caves, on shadows intent,
Struggling to crawl from the shimmering-flow,
Behind the reflections where sentiments grow.
This was the goal—the long, lonely climb—
To slip from the tether of space and of time.
They called them the Stream-Winners, grasped in the sight
That the numinous-moving-us is a trick of the light.
But the means of escaping the torrent’s embrace
Was as illusive as stillness in a galloping race;
Stepping twice in the same stream? A traveler’s lie.
So they sat staring-forever, with a parched, hollow eye,
Until wonder turned-Awe, and the glitter returned,
As they saw in the beauty what the soul had once burned.
For the Stream, it returns! In a spiral, a dance—
Eternal-Recurrence—no victim of chance.
You step in the same stream twice, and then more,
While the water-longs-fierce for your feet on its floor.
It craves you, it seeks you, each time it rolls by,
In infinite waves, beneath a vast, violet sky.
It speeds up to feel you—deep-inside the bone—
Until every Déjà-vu makes itself known.
Flowing inside-out, till your eyes open wide,
Caught in the rush of the free-streaming tide.
An organic-embrace, a shimmering-shove,
This free-flowing, visceral, streaming-Love.
And there, in the vortex where the currents all chase,
We find our own footing...
Taking one step in Grace.
As a certified, bona fide woman of a grown-up sixteen,
she light-stepped with grace thru the baroque castle.
She wanted to tell her Father of the déjà vu she gleaned
at last night’s élan party scene with a man who dazzled.
She gave her fantasies carte blanche to freely travel
for she was but a love dilettante, still romance green
and unsure what her anomaly feelings could mean.
She found the King, Father, leaning on an avant-garde mantel,
his manner ennui, despite the cacophony of swords at cavil.
Knowing her, he said, "No talk of new suiters, many already battle."
... CayCay Jennings
January 25, 2018
Your Christmas fir was small and new,
When planted in the ground for you;
Once potbound, then its roots were free.
You stroked its branches, cuddled me:
I thought it felt like déjà vu.
I watched it as it slowly grew,
Though evergreen, its air was blue,
Not happy as it used to be,
Your Christmas fir.
Your love was dying, yes, I knew,
But what was I supposed to do?
Each time we fought, so sad to see,
All seemed reflected in the tree;
It turned to brown when we were through,
Your Christmas fir.
*The fir I'd planted started off well, but soon looked sorry for itself, and died after the relationship ended