Fugitive Poems

The Fugitive

The clear blue sky above me
Needs a shadow on the run
To hide a weary fugitive
Before the setting sun

The desert plain is endless
And my boots are running dry
A fugitive is friendless
To the stranger passing by

A rattlesnake is rotting
By a rocky mountain cat
A desert rat is scatting
From a nesting acrobat

The craggy peak above me
Is a hide and seeker's base
The little birds are bingeing
On a rabbit's running face

Tarantula's are twisting
In the scathing summer heat
The wasp is worth resisting
But the eggs are hard to beat

I gather what is left of me
When I was still a man
The rocks and caves are not so free
To hold me if they can

I wish I had a pillow
Or a sleeping bag at best
To hide the pain of loneliness
By weeping on my chest

The setting sun is sitting fast
The dune is growing cold
I hope somebody catches me
Before the moon is old.

Deciding the Fate of a Fugitive

So, now, you all are positive 
Ted Osprey is a fugitive,
That his last name is not Osprey:
A smart corruption of Godfrey
While his 'Ted' First should have been, Fred;
Some would rather he's called 'Red'...

And you're also quite positive
He was no clean operative,
Rather working for evil men
Soon staying in a house, next den...

Clear,  Godfrey is now on the run:
For having turned on three his gun,
Because if he did not 'just gone!'
And would be mourned by nearly none.

The choice is yours to Fred murder
Or take this complex thing further:
And while I await your answer
In Fred's house incense and censer.

When Its Reasonable To Dodge

Now that testing positive
Makes one a sex fugitive
Would you your thing or bum
Keep a distance from condom?

When passions surge
And sex is the urge
Isn’t it your dirge
To with “The Managed” merge?

And who would a dagger grab,
When it has begun to stab
Or disdain a rescue cab
While some squad seeks to you nab?

When it’s reasonable to dodge
And you won’t even budge
A bullet might you nudge
Like an angered serge!

A Fugitive She Never Knew

As still as night, her heart aghast,
she pondered of her fellow's fairing,
for word had spread of his capture.
She dreamt of blooming meadows past,
as butterfly spies enrapture
lunch baskets and laughter sharing.
Alas, now shadows are glaring.
A fugitive, she never knew,
throughout each lovely rendezvous,
a swindler with another life
abandoned children and a wife!
Disheartening, the aftermath!
Lo, upon their cobblestone path,
a sennight long, tears filled a bath.
Then yonder from the fog he came,
with perplexing news to proclaim.
From a journey far he'd returned,
and all the while his bowels churned,
consoling greiving family,
yearning for her like no other.
The outlaw that she thought was he,
was his long estranged twin brother!

1-19-2020
Strict Rhyme and Meter Challenge
Sponsor: Son Of Spock

If You Are Harboring a Fugitive

Police’s loudspeaker projected all over the neighborhood.
“IF YOU ARE HARBORING A FUGITIVE, TURN 
HIM IN RIGHT AWAY! THERE WILL BE NO
PUNISHMENT IF THE PERPETRATOR COMES 
OUT IN THE NEXT HOUR!”

“Do you think they mean me?” my guest asked.
“Doubtful,” I told her. “You are invisible to
non-believers, right?”

Stegosaurus Faerie breathed a sigh of relief.

The Fugitive

Oft I ponder the impulse to endure,
As I stare into the eyes of a turtle.
Start from egg bones that they are,
A part of their shelled home structure.

Them, all in a crutch, breakout as a bale,
Outlast their plight, cross a beach, they hightail,
Sights life from above that swoops down in a dive,
For they too, like them, must also survive.

The impacts continues, of their small compact life, 
As they waddle for now, they will tip toe when older,
But when they are at sea, they glide with their flippers,
Yet even to that end, perpetuation of strife.

Semblance my thoughts, of rivals beyond a framed entity
The expanse in an ocean of life, and of its brief, eternity.

Ideas

Fly one way
Like a fugitive seeking asylum
Knock the door
See if the house owner is home,
ready and willing.

Fly another way
Like a refugee in urgent need
Knock the door
See if the house owner is home,
ready and willing.
Fly many ways
Like seeds scattered by the sower
Knock many doors
See if house owners are home,
ready and willing.

Dwell a day
Nay, many days
When such hearts, you find  
Willing and welcoming 

Fly away, fly away
Fly away, fly away
As so and as much as you please
When no such, you find

A Fugitive Portrait In Verse of the Innocent and the Depraved

A maid, lovely and just as fair,
     is a flower, a bloom, afresh
even when no sunshine's o'er there. 
     In spirit and in youthful flesh,
so magnificent past compare, 
     she softly glows, with skin so fresh.    

With youth and loveliness to find,
     she coyly offers no consent;
but with her smiles and trust so blind,
     she stirs a restless discontent.
When peeks, and looks, betray her mind, 
     she befriends me as if we're meant.  

Her sweetness, though, sparks a desire, 
     a lust without wise self-control;  
but rule I must, I must, this fire!?
     For this maid's a girl, not a doll 
to quench and slake my swollen spire,
     the squire of my depraved, dark soul.

Fugitive

I am learning  how to leave
how to hug many lonely roads
walk through the roads in pains
how to mourn those lost brothers
without feeling guilty-wandering
this is what life has taught me:
how to pack my bag and walk,
walk to the river bank and stay
I've been forgotten in between
fingers, two unequal fingers
i know I am a street shattered,
littered with  filth agonies.
finding home in a graveyard 
finding solace in the bosom of
emptiness and foilage of vacant
lonesomeness taught me this:
how to name the street a home
how to hold death in my pocket
how to talk to the wind as a friend
building sadness and excitement 
when a dice of stupidity is thrown
fools like me look for gold of sanity 
these broken poems in my head
hurts, wish I could split them like
Igbos' hearts, like Edo and Delta! 
the history created has made me 
learn more on how to lose home 
in every moon, in every star
but am afraid of what the streets
talk about me in their closet.


Yours Poetically 
©John Chizoba Vincent

Fugitive Freedom

rejoice,praise
           jubilaltion
bondage abandoned
excursion into being,
horizons of promise
with
innocence exhumed

Fugitive

Vagabond passion,
alienated from reason,
fugitive feelings,
cringe before truth and light,
is freedom in view?

A Fugitive

A fugitive 




A fugitive I maybe ....
but I don't wait for the dark,
Living as a vagabond
and spreading clinquant spark,

As sun lights my path
intuition ushers aftermath,
Remonstrance doesn't curb
when prowess rides the nerve,
A fugitive I maybe ...




Written April 2nd, 2016
For contest by Julia Ward

A Fugitive On the Run

I robbed a bank today 
Suprisingly
 I got away
The cops were just seconds behind
The money so much money
is mine
I cant believe
I pulled it off
Just a hoodie, bandana,
and a plastic gun airsoft
I told that teller 
give it all to me
So scared 
so frightened was she
put in the bag 
stuff it nice and full
or I will be forced
to give this trigger a pull
Everyone stand down 
not a single noise
I pulled it off
with stellar poise
As I left 
I had goosebumps up my spine
I finished it like the movies
in record time
I got away I made it 
no repercussion in sight
Until I was alone
that very same night
Couldn't stay out of the windows in my home
They showed my photo on the news
(I must be known)
What did I do
there is no turning back
Need to stuff this money
into my pack
Stuck constantly 
looking over my shoulder
Life as I knew it
is completely over
Going to hit the road
see what I can find
The worry the guilt 
racing through my mind
I thought I was successful
but the aftermath isn't fun
Wait this means 
I am a FUGITIVE on the run

4/1/16

The Fugitive Stole My:

There once was a Fugitive who stole my heart
And he was running away
He never knew how to stay

He stole more hearts than one 
How many all together no one knows
He stole a heart with every rose

Words were his advantage
He strung them together with such beauty
It seemed like it was his duty

But now his actions are showing his true colors
He is starting to slip away
Oh never can he ever stay

He is a fugitive
He is running - not from the law but from the hearts he shattered
Because all the girls he hurt are battered
And now he can’t fix a thing

A Fugitive Nature

There were false lines on your palms,
and you are believing on them,
escaping from the realty,
passively behaving with them,

failures are not a problem,
but a fugitive nature is,
lets bring a passion within,
along with the patience,
then figure out the hurdles and fight with them,

essence of success is within,
every pulse is calling for it,
lets hear the inner sound
and enjoy the every moment with them.


Date:
03/28/2016

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