In defence of the profane - I
Profane words, poor things, scorned as contraband,
In contrast arraigned with words weighed as sane
That hold a moral firm ground-- for long grand.
Forbidden, they talk to us in words plain
But are powered by voltage of thunder clouds
Which, words that wear civil dress seldom can.
What beauty-- words raw, truthful, not in shrouds,
Honest if rude, can do free from restrain!
Not sure? Try stub your toe and mark your jibe:
Sage decorum nor yet homilies rife,
Nor vague philosophical diatribe,
Nor yet poetic prompt on fleeting life!!
Pain, no child of elegant etiquettes,
Spews words profane-- flood flooding past floodgates.
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Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) | 17.12.2025 | profane, sane, words
Note: The part - II follows.
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