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I feel like I've been here before.
Not in this place,
But in this state of mind.
Who doesn't lie sometimes?
Monisha Aug 2019
Have you ever felt this,
That you know someone
Without really knowing them.

That you hold someone,
Without really  holding  them.

That you see someone,
Without really seeing them.

That you hear someone,
Without really hearing them.

That you feel someone,
Without them being close enough.

That you call out to them,
And their soul whispers back!
Karijinbba Jul 2019
As in time machine
that Old "Moon that Old Hill"
"A woman's hand a lovers heart"
tis Deja-Vu entrapment
here in heart in mind
in pristine awareness
sparkling bubbling I
in mirror cursed replaced
or just a memory of old
revered moon me in ancient
lovers eye or scorned
delighting in memory writ
this poem new as I to shreads can turn in poems depicted script
tis inspired delight
bitter sweet in "hill and moon"
"Blast in fireworks" hearts
ashes of stardum dust
eons past yet here
in poetry's diamond ghost
in liquid gold inked
prespiring ****** sweat
O bittersweet
covert metaphor a lover's treasured ransomed memory
immortal love and I
beguiled in mirror glass
and all entrapped
By: Karijinbba
Inspired by TSpoetry
Many of poems read are DeJA-VU
to me as if I myself had writ
its phonomenon agreeable things
not sought for, its serendipity
c Jun 2019
I am addicted to deja vu
In the form of
And goodbyes
And thinking I’ve found love

And hey, you seem so familiar.
Have I seen you somewhere before?
Pagan Paul Jun 2019
A rose from a window
looks like any other rose,
but as the old lady stares
out through the thin glass
a fondness develops,
begins to form a memory,

reaching back,
grasping the past,

that very slowly forms
the image of a rose,
proud in an old garden,
upstanding to catch the eye
of a young girl
staring out of a window.

© Pagan Paul (19/06/19)
Lilly F Jun 2019
you looked at me and the sky turned pink
the groud turned peach
savoring the moment without a single blink
the colors become distinctive, aware of each
my knees began to shake
the walls turned blue
who knew you could take
my breath away again, deja vu

© L.F
Nikolas Jun 2019
This summer, the leaves are old,
Tired people in their homes.
This time, it's warm enough to hold,
The conversation on the phone.

It's sentimental, that this guitar,
Played so many false notes.
And yet, it's so, just so bizarre,
To miss some of my winter coats.

Summer is for the calm, the patient,
And so for the outrageous.
It's a time to remember the ancient,
The old, ruins of my soul.

Sometimes, it slips off my tongue,
That I'm the happiest of all.
But, it's a shock, for both of my lungs,
To feel the scent of the upcoming fall.

So it doesn't matter, the time,
The kids' laugh outside the building,
When it's so good to write, a rhyme,
When the sunset takes the anxious feeling.
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