Long Deja Poems
Long Deja Poems. Below are the most popular long Deja by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Deja poems by poem length and keyword.
Flitting in a distant flash,
a fleeting glimpse, seen far off for a second
is all it takes to shutter a flutter in memory banks.
To trigger recall, perhaps a deja vu replay brief.
Our mind constantly trawls
for associations in the swirls of a crystal ball
in every scene and furtive glance we see.
Nothing is a new release, a gala opening night.
All we see are shorts and replays,
snippets of this scene linked with that,
bits of past mixed up with present,
left-overs mixed with anti pasta.
How nice it would be to have
memories wiped clean like as hard disk crash
to see everything new again, untainted by recall.
To be able to switch memories off and on at will.
To choose what and when we want to be reminded.
To choose when we simply want to sip up the new with a straw.
To taste the scene devoid of context,
immune from concomitance.
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
What is there inside the about- to- blossom bud
Plenty of light and some dark obviously for us
Or nuclear horror as Donald has thundered?
Whatever, I do look up to your soft green grass
Through the two deja vu purple window glass
In pink expectation we live this rainbow life
In expectation we look for a door and a window
In expectation the bee hums from flowers to the hive
Will the bud unfold towards a happiness crescendo
Or circumstantially we will be in a puzzling limbo
Let us welcome the new year two thousand seventeen
For an end of something and for others a beginning
Some poems to write off and some others to take up
Towards humanity improve our mental makeup
Towards the morning that would give us our teacup
Without elimination no purple invigoration
Goodbye sixteen that has spent all its green
Apples and oranges in colors of seventeen
Birds by the window in their voices umpteen
Standing in the juncture calls the future dream
Let us respond by saying we are ready too
In the tarmac of time holding hands me and you
__________________________________________________________
28/12/2016
9/9/16
Humans learned
After being proven and confirmed
Tides surge and churn, as tables turn
Objects and vessels remaining submerged
And others beginning to emerge
The say the early bird
Gets the worm
Even if it's all ready their third
Are we close to the verge
Or just starting out in certain terms?
People give you their word
Then throw you under the bus, and let you burn
These very moments
Trying to focus
The position I hold is stern
I do not want to be disturbed
So unconcerned
with how much another earned
Don't care what you heard
Think instead of being absurd
Understand the difference and discern
Up to you if you want to splurge
And go off an urge
Deja vu occured
In real life and through dreams I observed
Navigated many curves
And berms
Among forests with ferns
déjà vu – tout simplement an abstract
a feel, that most humans enjoy
déjà vu – a humain instinct
that flashes for a fraction of seconds
déjà vu of l’ endroit, paintings
thoughts, dialogues, images
déjà vu – insitu a miracle
that leaves us with a e’norme memorium
déjà vu – a new reality with an old dream
l’affaire of mindful streams.
déjà vu – le rendezvous of past &present
a tie up of old and new.
déjà vu – an experience in the pocket of a few
le spectacle of deviant which is rare but true.
(This poem is written with the help of both English &french words. the meaning of the french words are given below.)
déjà vu - feeling of having experienced the present situation before.
tout simplement - basically
humain - human
l’ endroit, - place
e’norme - enormous
l’affaire - event
le rendezvous - rendezvous
le spectacle - scene of event
A laugh is a soul's explosion of insanity.
Knowledge of acknowledgement in vanity.
A crazed affinity with deja vu timing.
Taboo of thought in neon silver lining.
An out of body experience welcomed within.
Micro possession in a miming obsession,
with dilated dial in audible font style
and expression.
A laugh is a pseudo lust in pseudo love.
Headlining, silver tongued language of
squealed wink, grunting blink, snickering choke of drink.
from above.
A syncing of honed thinking in volume linking
the brink on.
Wave of notes confused bang of gong,
in mode-icon.
Surge of mental drowning,
with smile singing mused
connection system of its own downing.
#Repetition_of_irremediable_calamity
Stare the dark gloomed space of shooting casanovas, blurred with shades of karma, coated with deja vu, I was here the mind says, my hands mired with more dirt, contaminating my hard work and effort to never to pass through this hind streets of lingering pain and regrets, a rotational oozing of ghostlike tormenting shadows of my yesterday, and feel pacing in slow motion in this circles of no exits, no matter the effort pores punches all over my hope, feel drowning, suffocating and my soul ebbing, dilating in volumes I can't contain any further
My calamity takes everything out of me, regret there be nothing to identify me with, after it's taking, invisible blows shatters me from every direction, how can I not give in when I too was made from the very dust of this earth, a human like the rest
Here I'm tested to never rise again or to man up and prove the naysayers and those who have written me off even before my birth, spirit lead my me to faith without borders, pass me a riffle to eleminate every doubt before me, face up, faith on, and irremediable is just a word in my calamity
#Poetic_Ink
We love to be victims.
We wear our damaged hearts on bloodied sleeves.
We cherish the buried shrapnel with serrated edges,
that lies deep within, in time-lapse lockets,
waiting to be unlocked, awoken and inflame again.
The sharp painful shards and regretful splinters are awaken by,
silly deja vu triggers of guilt, regret and happenstance,
and innocent throw-me-down one-liners, floating on the wind.
They trigger, echo and ricochet painful memory laser beams,
that blast into irrelevant virgin-ground places,
reverberate and resonate,
and build the inflammation,
we want to feel.
For we long to be long-suffering victims,
infected, shrapnel-scared, beyond redemption,
serving our time as voluntary introspective inmates in jail,
with no parole.
It was so real
the sights, smells, and the people
in my dream were very familiar
there was a feeling of deja vu
Until the moment that
the person that I was hugging
faded into nothing as
I opened my eyes
It was morning
I had not been hugging
my deceased mother after all
it was just a dream
The person I was when I woke up,
and the person I was in my dream
are very different people,
on opposite sides of grief
Grief is such a strong emotion
that even a dream of a loss
can take you back to the first
heart wrenching days
However, the gift of a hug from
a deceased loved one is a precious
thing, and I am grateful
even though, it was just a dream
I know to stay away.
It happens every time.
The hurt, the pain, the memories.
Its like a magnet it draws me closer and closer.
So is it Deja vu or past lives?
Or just ghosts of the past?
They seem to always find me.
My heart breaks.
They left too soon.
The lights flicker.
A penny, a feather or,
The room gets cold showing someone is here.
I hear the computer beeping,
Please don't be broken.
I look and see "Help me"
Just a simple message for her husband,
See the doctor.
Then two days later he had surgery,
To repair the widow maker in his heart.
The Ghost in my Computer
Is an angel in disguise.