Neha Jasmine Rodrigues
To all the women out there as we step closer to Women’s day, I have a poem for you, to the person you are, remember you at beautiful and empowered.. more power to you beautiful…
We want equal rights
Continue reading “Women Are Power”
Who wanted to be equal to men
Sadly not realising
We claiming to be degraded
Coz women are special
And more powerful than men
In 60’s America, they were urged to burn their bras;
Continue reading “A Poem For International Women’s Day”
Now in Saudi Arabia, they’re still banned from driving cars.
Mary Wollstonecroft wrote “A Vindication” in 1792,
But now in 2020, mysogyny’s still a view.
Early morning walk in the park,
Continue reading “Early Morning (Ode to Batley Park)”
Shrouded in silence,
Cloaked in the dark.
The end of the night is ushered by
Venus, our lady, alone in the sky.
She watches dark fade,
The death of the night.
The day soon reborn,
Washing shadows with light.
It feels like you are very far,
Continue reading “A Locked-In Birthday”
But you always remain in our heart.
”Enjoy your day and eat lots of cake as we say”.
It’s a shame we can’t awake you with a morning call
To ambush you into the wall.
(with apologies to Robert Browning)
Part 1 – Past
Oh not to be in England
Now that Thatcher’s here
Selling off the council houses
In the hopes the poor might disappear.
Oh not to be in England as she carries on her reign
Continue reading “Oh Not To Be In England”
Levelling up the country
With poll tax
So we all can pay the same
So farewell Donald Trump, you launched 10,000 memes,
Continue reading “So Farewell, Donald Trump”
And your sexual harassment prompted just as many screams.
You dismissed your foes as “Fake News” but told 20,000 lies,
Adding 50 falsehoods daily as you scoffed Big Macs and fries.
I had no self-respect,
Continue reading “Seek and You Will Find”
So I covered my flesh,
So I lowered my gaze
So I held my tongue
So I quashed my anger.
Coal faces and steely resolve
Miners, blacksmiths, Thatcher’s
Children thrown apart to the enemies within.
No medals. No salute. No honour for their service to those above the dark.
What honour for the darkest hour underground?
What honour for the heat of battle in the furnace?
Closure is the way to redemption they say.
Closure pits man against man and steely resolve hidden under a disguise.
No future. No forgiveness for heartless actions.
What, sympathy for the masses?