Long Déjà Poems
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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.
For the lark she sings in her morning song,
That brightens up my day.
The pitter patter of tiny drops,
Clouds fill the sky with grey.
The dampened ground, that familiar smell,
Now quenched refreshed anew.
Brings forth forgotten memories,
Of a time that I once new.
Like grains of sand they ebb and flow,
Those minutes of the day.
In lines of endless moments,
That brought forth that child at play.
For is this just like déjà vu
For some time I’ve been alone.
Now standing here now humble,
To all these things I’ve known.
With gentle face a youthful pose,
As we danced the night away,
A tender touch a knowing gaze,
No need for words to say.
For what is love but a feeling?
As hearts melt into one.
With the blessings of good fortune,
Now Care free and full of fun.
For they say that hopes eternal,
And all things come to he who waits.
Or is that for other people,
For nothing seems that straight.
Given in reflected thought,
To those oh so special years.
Brought back in just a heart beat,
I wipe away the tears.
© N windle
I’m fighting with you
in a déjà vu
of a fight we had before.
I try to remember
that day in September
and the wedding dress you wore.
As the years went by
we forgot how to try
to forgive and to forget;
Now we’re nearing the end
of being best friends;
a conclusion we would both regret.
Do you think we can turn
and try to re-learn
how to love each other instead?
Stop all the fighting,
the bickering and biting
and revisit each other in bed.
Not all the history is bad;
there was a time we were glad
to be called a husband and wife;
Recapture the feeling we felt
when the nuptials were dealt
and we united for the rest of our life.
We might get a surprise
how a compromise
so easily we can reach;
If we both admit
this silly fight to quit
and learn what to our kids we tried to teach;
That family,
which includes you and me,
deserves our patience and our care;
Which is something that we,
or so it seems to be,
for each other lost the ability somewhere.
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.
Here on the cusp of all things, is where I succumb
Ceding my stuff blindly, toward oblivion and none
Unwilling to persevere, without a modicum of fun
Listing in perpetual stasis, til the spasm’s undone
And yet a god may save me, or a talisman of love
Some prophet of euphoria, quelling ennui thereof
Placing good tidings, into a universal equation
Edifying eternity…..revealing its exact duration…..
Alas he speaks in riddles, and treads a mobius strip
Each cycle forming a twist, convoluting his trip
Determined I follow, my awareness in collapse
Narrow-mindedly stumbling into mortality traps
Now I sense the endgame, but decline to exalt
Its a distortion, an abortion, a cataclysmic fault
Chance meeting with a nihilist, yields positive results
Unable to see past zero, he reveals nothing but cults
Here on the cusp of all things, is where I begun
A contorted brain-f*ck, had no choice but to come
A demon of clarity, with an open ended measure
One who gives to please, but prefers taking pleasure
To believe for one moment, I’d live off a dying spark
Only denies potential, when again life goes dark
With more light to come, my sunglasses prepared
Eternity’s not polarised, just infinitely layered
If a blind man articulates, I’ve seen all this before
Screaming and convinced “I’m a seer at my core”
Could be he’s mistaken, or deluded with Déjà vu
Begs his final question, “do I have a point of view”?
New archetypes are rising, whispering among shadows and unspoken dreams,
You are not "too sensitive" or "too intense," you are simply remembering a nameless role,
A role that takes shape now, in this era of memory and rediscovery,
Where the frequencies of the soul rise, dancing in harmony with the universe.
The Timeline Weaver heals by braiding timelines, not bypassing them,
The past, present, and future respond to their conscious choices,
The Code Whisperer translates frequency into art, sound, and expression,
Creating works that awaken dormant memories in others, sparking new beginnings.
The Grid Tender feels the Earth like an old and dear friend,
Not only visiting sacred places but weeping with them,
Remembrance comes through reverence, through a deep connection with the soil,
The Soft Disruptor doesn't fight to be heard, but their existence destabilizes illusions.
The Shadow Synthesizer doesn't bypass darkness but dances with it,
Alchemizes pain into wisdom without shame, transforming everything,
The Veil Threader brings truth from thin places, where visions seem like déjà vu,
The Frequency Anchor doesn't preach or force, their presence alone changes reality.
The Mirror Guide reflects your truest self without judgment,
One conversation with them and you are never the same, you change profoundly,
You may not be all of them, but if one touches you deeply, it's because you are one,
Or you are becoming one in this New Age of Remembrance and self-discovery, in light.
Love Stitches an Ocean
We met once
along the lines
of short sentences
in the aether
we exchanged
conversations in dreams
we thought we were poets
but we were just empty chimes
echoing the us before us,
we existed
free verse
in the unseen
next time 'round
when we meet,
again,
you will remember me
you will
think
déjà vu
they say
there -
in that time and place
well,
there,
there
are no
guarantees
but
they say -
eventually,
if it is to be
believed,
time stands still
we do meet,
again
we clearly see
each in the
other,
in that strange new time
surreal
the real you
the real me
love stitches
time back to
where we began
where we touch,
and speak
new sentences
notes played, again,
the keys
we should have seen
and held closer,
to make real
our dreams
we look through
our windows
in that new time,
we
eventually see
the deepest ocean
that is
you
and me
(LadyLabyrinth/ 2022)
“Oceans”/ Coldplay
https://youtu.be/D72bzPbZQrI
"Meet me in Blue Sky
Meet me again ... "
LYRICS , “Oceans”, Coldplay
https://genius.com/Coldplay-oceans-lyrics
... "Meet me in blue sky
Meet me again
In the rain
[Outro]
You've got to find yourself alone in this world
You've got to find yourself alone "
POTD 6th August 2019
The clock ticks down the passing day
Tedious seconds count down my existence
Time for my pills ~ Time to call the nurse
Time ~ taunting my resistance
Soft haunting strains of a violin float
sweetly liquid, melodiously unchained
freeing my mind from weariness faced
No barriers ~ it flows ~ unrestrained
My world of music I lived it ~ breathed it
In whispers ~ it spoke to my Soul
bringing with it, adoration and glory
and a passion beyond my control
I glance at the painting on the wall
pondering this feeling of déjà vu
Memories of this glade from before
Triggers mentation I need to pursue
Memories flood ~ a vision in the distance
an Angel dancing in its midst
who had danced with wild abandon
lucent skin the sun had kissed
How I had yearned to dance with her
with that angel who made me sigh
she had come to shine her own pure light
prompting my spirit to fly
But there’s no girl there ~ awry is my mind
And I’m but a frail old man
I must erase thoughts from my life bygone
And prevail however best I can
~ Every great dream starts with the dreamer
who ventures where mortals dare not tread
And laughs with mirth and cares not for
unfinished rhapsodies playing in his head ~
What’s this? I’m suddenly in the glade?
A strong young lad once more
She has come for me, my Angel love
I leap - I twirl - I soar
We dance with wild abandon
We dance without a care
sun kissed skin our arms entwined
Wild flowers everywhere
It seems I’ve left the world behind
And unshackled my attachments of
A hundred birds do sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
by Maria Williams
Thank you for listening and watching this video.
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartanto
Part 1 and Part 2
Narrated by Kelvin C
If you like my video please share and subscribe on You Tube - thank you
Copyright © August 2019 Maria Williams
POTD 6th August 2019
(John Day Fossil Beds, 2018)
Revisiting The Same Ground
Over and over again
I find myself returning
to the same thoughts, ideas, histories
but now with years more experience between
and years more depth
behind what were once words
so glibly recited.
Is this how we all learn,
parrots one and all, reciting
lessons, sounds, songs and jingles
until they somehow
take on meaning
filled with the substance of Life
which at every turn
fill again a little more?
Tide-like the mind moves
in cycles of night and day, wake and sleep
building layers which erode
but never really go away
layers which in time harden to stone
sedimentary then metamorphic
each supplanted by the next
in endless waves across endless generations.
And so we go
treading the same old ground
‘round and ‘round
haunted by glimpses of déjà vu
humbled by realization
we have been here before
without a clue
how blind we really are.
(10/19/23)
She flickers in the glass—
a glitch of golden déjà vu,
The paint strokes—bright, wild yellow,
but no warmth leak through.
I sometimes reach
for her dimming leaves
that hum against my skin then disappear.
I pull back and smell
ash, when nothing’s charred.
There were twelve petals yesterday,
now, only eleven.
I wake up and count again.
Still eleven,
or maybe
none.
(I’m not sure if I’ve woken,
even though I know
I tasted salt from my tears.)
Mother says we never got a dog.
But I remember—
the texture of his leather collar,
the white fur tickling my nose.
The sky runs—
watercolor pulled too far.
I check the time:
9:42 AM.
Then I open my eyes.
4:08.
She’s still there,
scorched
into my nightstand—
brushing mirage into my vision.
_______________
Inspired by Vincent Van Gogh's sunflowers, which I cannot seem to stop thinking about.