Long Fugitive Poems
Long Fugitive Poems. Below are the most popular long Fugitive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fugitive poems by poem length and keyword.
Veil of night unburies my dream
a flickering flame wants to scream
In speechless tears beyond control
I lose my heart and find my soul.
A shallow puddle on the street
mirage of sun, hidden deceit
In sky of hope, white torrents roll
I lose my heart and find my soul.
From cosmic clouds, a ceaseless flow
soft and supple, drifting below
In touch of water, part and whole
I lose my heart and find my soul
Fugitive streams eroding rocks
meets the sea, no shackles, no locks
Blue wilderness,...no bounded goal
I lose my heart and find my soul.
4th September 2022
Sponsor Kim Rodrigues
Contest Name A KYRIELLE ABOUT WATER
Aren’t we the leaves in the towering tree of life
Giving it a diadem with the green grace of foliage.
Are we not the pages of a tome or text of cryptic script
Unable to decipher what scribbles are scrawled on it
With every page bringing unexpected twists and turns.
As I turn the leaves of my life one by one
I see my childhood in great sheen and shimmer,
Like the tender sprouts of spring's splendor
Fluttering and flitting in whispering wind.
In scorching summer sun, got crumpled and curled
At times, twirled and swirled with the needle pricks of rain.
Yet I survived and held hard on to the mother tree,
Weaving dusky dreams even through the bleakest nights
And lifting my glistening gaze to unimaginable heights.
In those times, how I wished to catch the crimson sun
And my mind longed to chase the sudden spark
Never knowing, the faster the light flares into brilliance,
The quicker it is to slide and slip away n' die out as a flash.
When autumn came, strangely I turned wise and wizened
My tenacious attempt to cling on and clutch seemed in vain
One by one as the leaves of autumn drop down
And litter the roads and pathways to be trampled over
I see 'the foliage of farewell' and the one that awaits me
I know well, I too will soon fall and fade and lie lifeless
In the sodden soil or sand, defenceless and desolate.
My dream was never to drift drowsy downstream
But to soar high into the seamless sky like a bird on wings
In the spring of life, love was such a sweet sensation
But now it is watered with saline tears and silent sobs.
Most of my dreams have flown away fluttering like autumn leaves
Those that I once held fast now stay distant as stars of the sky
Sleep, once a visitor who barged in at short notice,
Has become a fading fugitive, giving me dreadful nights.
Yet I turn the pages of my life with anticipation
Until I tremble at the edge of time and tumble down
As the last lingering leaf from the tree of life-
Then I will tell myself- 'neither dusk nor dawn can delude me’.
I am not in dark despair, but in calm contentment,
For I have
Lived
Loved
and
Dreamed
Pious observation
of my private property
ought to keep it
beyond the sign
'all strangers are welcome'
which was put on in
four languages before
the rampage.
Does it speak English
and should I try sign language?
Drifting further from my mind,
desperate, out of breath, is
the sign of God that pointed me
to the righteous path, lost
in the fog of moment, the
labyrinthine disconnections
and the void in between.
Tonight my faith is
sleeping alone, yet something
is grabbing its attention,
my need to keep it close
something warm to grab
and keep going with
my epic struggle to put up
a new sign on my lawn:
Coronavirus Not Welcome.
Fugitive thoughts cancel out
fear.
The girl was only thirteen but she decided to runaway from home,
Her parents did not hit her but their words were like whips;
They called her stupid, and told her she would amount to nothing,
She did not understand why they seemed to hate her.
So she put everything that would fit into her backpack and left,
With no plan in place, she just started walking and walking;
She knew that staying in her small town was out of the question,
Leaving would be the only option, so she became a fugitive.
A bit of money bought lunch and then she headed for the highway,
Put out her finger to hitchhike and the first car stopped;
Where are you going, he asked, Toronto, she replied, uncertain,
I can take you part way, she got in and he was polite.
He let her out in Kingston, but first bought her some food,
At the restaurant she met up with a teen boy hitchhiking too;
So they made a team and set off together, she thought it fun,
They got to Toronto at night and ended up sleeping outside.
When she woke up, he had gone and she was all alone,
She walked the streets, running when she saw a police man;
In the evening a man approached her and asked, if she was lost,
And if she was hungry, she was, and he seemed nice.
He took her to a mission and they gave her soup and a bed,
There she met some kids who were hitching to Florida;
Why not, she was a fugitive here, so the next day they left,
It did not take them long and they slept on the beach.
In the morning she was all alone, and now in another country,
She was starting to get afraid, then a man said to her, hello;
Lost, he said, he seemed nice, she nodded taking his hand,
The Florida police found her body in a canal that day.
There was no identification and no missing child reports,
Her parents did search for years and years and years;
She just disappeared, a little girl fugitive on the run,
She is buried in a nameless grave in Florida.
And they never found her.
__________________________
March 15, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/The Runaway
Copyright Protected, ID 16-768-391-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
How beautiful the splendor
of your rising
in golden cloak
arrayed
of sky the majesty
who can approach you
dethrone you
from your fire
without a touch
you waken
rested eyes
to energy of work
or play delight
warming sands
for children castle play
sailing boats
to friends far way
from winter heat
you spark ice to cry
softening ground
cracking it to smile
for seeds to sprout
then open blossom
fragrance
for bees and butterflies
to sip and fly
as messengers of love
flower to flower
brushing green
from valleys
up to mountains
for eagles in the rocks
their young to hide
and bird songs
to intrigue from
their hiding
then at night
not that you retire
when earth turns
to sleep on its side
you sent your sister
with lamp of softer light
like onion vagrant
through the night sky
undressing its light
round to slice
and slice to round
in playful circle cycle
to the hunter and fugitive
a path to shine
and to a couple
in the dark
a winked smile.
First Place Winner: Brian Strand-All Yours-5/31/20
Fifth place Winner: Brian Strand-You Choose Again-1/24/24
Born chosen,
in other spheres,
soon landed
where nobody wanted ...
Little sugary I grew up,
little salty I survived
to be kind of impish ...
I'm a fugitive son
from the sea ... being healthy ...
Stout escapist
commitments,
absent goer
of cultural events
intriguing inhabitant
of society ... but
even so intending to me
being a poet, I got here ...
Neither high nor low
meantime...
Neither ugly nor handsome
however ... I don't pay attention to fashion,
but I am inside everything ...
Gone in the years,
without having realized ... yet
I am faithful wanderer with
tired feet and body
sense...
I never wanted luck,
be preferred but with
luck I was always registered ...
I mix healthy and evil
accurately ... I'm almost
pure innocence ... further angel
than a demon by essence ...
But imperfect man
I am still ... I'm sure ...!
Filmed by strangers,
a story doomed not to last.
Beauteous verse
wrapped in barbed wire—
each sonnet
a blade to the vein.
Eyes like jade—
not diamond,
but cut rock.
A granite heart.
Tar recedes
into stone.
Still, the boy covets
with hunger.
And the girl—
she has appetites too.
First love:
a pigtail yanked,
a giggle echoing through time.
Innocence dissolved
with each year gained.
But the eyes—
they never changed.
Breathe life and fire into love’s nest—
reignite the spark of youth,
peeking through years like iron curtains,
framing the fugitive selves
we left decimated.
I still see her—
not in dreams,
but in the hush between songs,
in the way a door closes softly
when no one is there.
She has appetites still.
And I—
I feed them
from a distance.
Let her starve for once.
Monsters of conceit that human beings create,
With fantastic forms and shapes and strength decorate;
Licensing to love, loath, lust, lie, lure and loiter,
Wretched then; dare to kill the very creator...
Scientific ambition, sure, is creative,
What, if, the creator is made a fugitive?
Playing God, indeed, is a sin forgivable,
What, if, one thinks himself as God adorable?
Was Frankenstein's fantastic frantic tea party,
Amusements of bourgeoisies- sporty, haughty?
Or like politics played around the world today,
Mudslinging, slandering, tricky, dirty, and stray?
The monster was not a single entity whole,
He was pieces of flesh and bones put in a roll;
Race, caste, color, creed interests, and biases,
Had made him the best bundle of paradoxes...
He, like a battery robot, functioned so well,
When his cell got exhausted like his will he fell;
When re-charged with hearty feelings he soon arose,
When his master could not contain, his tantrum throws…
Frankenstein's party is a pandemonium,
Full of fear, havoc, chaos, madness, and mayhem;
The monster was created by master-power,
Master was overpowered and towered over!
We create monsters in our image and likeness,
We fill them with fancies and desires and coyness;
Frankenstein's tea party has great lessons to teach,
Monsters must be mastered - the goal of life to reach.
07 August 2021
Frankenstein tea party 2021 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
the death of kung fu
sent shivers down my spine
hero my hero
he will always be mine
the warriors warrior
the monks monk
the fugitive outlaw
shall never be forgot
the man the human
the actor the part
the role the scene
the passion the heart
the life the death
the living the pain
the fame the glory
the legend the name
the art the beauty
the style the grace
the wisdom the knowledge
the adventure the game
(truely a legend and the tears that will flow from the man boys eyes for his sake today. i am
one of those who like a comic book come to life; david was and always will be to me and like
no other. the most real in my life. I loved him and it is a real loss to me.) jhlovingiii
Form:
' Time is the thief you cannot banish.'
Phyllis McGinley, Writer , 1905-1973
VALUE YOUR TIME
Time has neither beginning nor end,
but you are time- bound, be wise to spend.
Time is the period giving chance.
You are to utilize each instance.
Flowing forever, time infinite,
yet finite span for you to permit.
Past, present, future running entwined.
Time advancing, never to rewind.
Time is the thriller in happening.
Time is the healer in suffering.
Time is a great realization.
Value your time with veneration
Time is the thief you cannot banish,
fugitive, but never to vanish.
11/13/20
Third Place
' Writing Challenge -Quote Inspired' Contest by Constance La France