"savita" poems
This poem is now a song on https://soundcloud.com/musicalroutes
Soft day in general
some went off to pray at the cathedral
In our way we gave thanks
Sunset end of day temple riverbank.
Your eyes shone full of life
Living the dream in the west
where you believed that you had a choice
Remembering
Savita
Oh
gentle vibes forever flowing wild.
So how many more must Ireland lose?
How many more before stopping the abuse?
Don’t follow blindly crazy preachers
Healthcare basic feature.
Remembering Savita
Oh gentle vibes
Forever flowing wild.
Lack of true compassion must be a virus
Cults and politicians just desire us
But today the cure is here
Light will replace
Light will replace the fear
For every woman
Future generations.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 9:37 AM UTC
Yeats said romance was gone and dead,
Back in the day when most tears were shed.
Times when the IRA were up and strong,
Days when they could be seen doing wrong.
Not right now, when its just biased times;
The next Love/Hate enlightening their "newest" crimes.
Our time does differ from the old.
And if Yeats could talk right now, a different story would be told.
We're due a time when they all come home
Cross the shores and along they come.
Times when they are safe to stay,
Unlike the war years when they were forced away.
The times when Yeats said our heroes did us good.
Now, no novelty, no heroes: villains. Although, there should.
President Higgins, the 9th to stand.
Who speaks of "our own Aisling" in this shared land.
Our time does differ from the old.
And if Yeats could talk right now, a different story would be told.
A hundred years, we're still the same.
When the "recession" is so easy to blame.
A choice that Sinn Fein never got to make,
Lead by Kenny, the government's mistake.
Choices made, nor law but religion.
Medical misadventures under moral obligation.
A jury given a choice of two verdicts: one story,
Savita's death, goes down in history.
Our time does differ from the old.
And if Yeats could talk right now, a different story would be told.
Our time when networks send youths to their grave,
An earlier landing caused by how others behaved.
Still mothers shed tears upon the pit of their sons,
Ashes to ashes, a new war has begun.
But, a type that is different in a virtual way,
For the past is the past and today is today.
That's how our times differ to those of 1913
And if Yeats were here right now, what real difference would be seen?
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 7:21 PM UTC
Sanmati is my angle’s name. She never
Analyses her problem without sure.
Neither does she answer anyone directly;
Mediates before speaking desperately.
Amit is her uncle’s name. Smart is he
Though teaches him how to be.
I am proud father and Kavita her mother.
Savita is her grandmother who bother
Always for her betterment. We all
Negotiate for her better stroll
Knowing how the future world be.
Either ways are taught to be free
Truth and honesty being you see.
“Jai Jinendra” is the first word
All we speak before tea or curd.
I am sure her grandpa Deshbhushan
Needs her help when he in tension.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 12:21 AM UTC