Emotions sit no straight to meditate,
They look for an emergency exit,
What’s sane and sound gets caught in a Zen state,
Seeks profane whilst a safety valve’s remit.
Raised on a diet of good behavior,
What sane nigh prude do but ponder and brood?
Being quicksilver and nigh cavalier,
But not crude, vaults profane in words plain nude.
This is no way to wield vandalism
Of verbal brand way bit a wounding kind,
Profane words ventilate wrath with wisdom
To bring back lost balance of a sane mind--
A fair device to open up floodgates
That cools raw rage and pre-storm peace creates.
______________________________
Sonnet (tongue-in-cheek) | 18.12.2025 | profane, peace, sage, words
Note: The part - III follows.
Way back in 1983,
when I was just twenty-four you see,
very early in my career,
young, naïve, somewhat cavalier,
I wanted to buy a brand-new car,
something sporty, not some "boxcar".
Of course I had the money, the "dinero",
so I went out and bought a Chevy Camaro.
It was a 1983 Sport Coupe -
rather appropriate for my age group.
The color was diablo red,
and lemme tell ya! It sure turned heads!
Everywhere I went, that car got attention
and I won't deny it gave me an air of pretension.
Looking back, I suppose I was young and foolish
thinking that the car made me look coolish,
but that car was dependable
and took me where I needed to go,
whether on winding roads
or on the straight and narrow.
Now I have a treasury of memories:
its sounds, touches, and sights as well;
I still can remember that new-car smell.
Your first car is something you fondly remember,
forgetting the flaws, looking back on its splendor.
Soft marches
spawn bravado
and cavalier soldier
He who scoffs
at distant gunfire
to meet its fury
Untested untried
untempered
his blade of little worth
As conflict preys
on the folly
— of the paper lion
(Dreamsleep: August, 2025)
The spiritous sky rests in veils of light,
A mystery to show great courtesy.
In his heart, he's faithfully a Star's Knight,
Rooted in green, he lives life earnestly.
Behind the Elders, the moon casts backlight.
As rambunctious winds dance and go swirling,
This lone enchanter loves the fiery night,
Where ancient trees are eagerly curling.
He sees the Grove dressed in regality,
This solemn Knight with blue eyes mischievous,
Unbound from nature's own mortality,
Dancing in felicitous synthesis.
By dawn, no shadow dare interfere,
Lest, the night will reprise such Cavalier.
In my youth girls would sigh, your teeth are so bright
Now, like the stars, they come out at night
Once cavalier narcissistic
I have grown much more realistic
As a witty old genius, I'm an eternal delight
He was a fop, a fool, a popinjay
Man-about-town, too cute and gay
A fashion plate, a cavalier blade
His arrogance riveled an oak’s tree shade
There once was a man named Tony
his stories were a bunch of baloney,
though he seemed quite sincere
yet a bit cavalier
because his stories changed every year.
Well funny as this may sound
Tony's friends all gathered round,
for his stories when told
were outrages and bold
quite funny was Tony's baloney!
I am but a poet.
A rhyming cavalier
Expressing words I'm thinking
Until my mind is clear
Counting all the syllables
The consonants and the nouns
Letting my emotions run freely
Through villages and towns
I am but a poet.
The words that I create
Are written with a passion
So others can relate
They fill the head with magic
Bring laughs and tears alike
Expressing all your feelings
When stood up on an open mic
I am but a poet.
Not Shakespeare, if you please.
Sonnets are not my forte
Odes not my expertise
I am a free thinker
Scribing poems to make you think
Of nature and our planet
Putting my frustrations down in ink
I am but a poet.
With each sentence that I write
Are pieces of my being
My emotions in plain sight
Building up a picture
Where my thoughts are at
Filling empty pages
With every this and that
I am but a poet.
My words float on the air
Flying to its suitor
With each stanza that I share
Bringing a different feeling
To each and every soul
I am but a poet
And rhyming is my goal
©? Andrew Mears 2024
Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.
In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.
I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.
You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.
You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.
All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.
I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.
I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.
God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.
Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3
Mr. Biden pledged his word
so solemn, sincere...
He's just reneged on his pledge
~ so insincere, cavalier
Every life is a death sentence
It always ends with departure.
That end can be sudden or slow
Unexpected or predicted
Which camp do you belong to?
The Puritan with its memento mori
Or the Cavalier with its carpe diem
The former looking to eternity
The latter to every moment
As if it were the last.
Hold on to your many stripes
Before you blow out your pipes
I can hear you loud and clear
Stop acting so cavalier
Cool off then ride on one of the bikes
Bright young things
the class of 2019
Tories with their fresh rosettes
they said they could level up the Red Wall
now bide their time to forgotten promises
in their brazen suites
lost chance saloon in a cavalier fashion
ill affording suffragette society
look at them in their run in
Labour ushers a bravo return,
The Reform party
picks up on the crumbs
of discontent
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. The word is love. Sophocles, Greek Poet
Oh, to hear the word love softly spoken
From one I hold precious, so very dear
He now has new love, feeling quite broken
My question is "was he ever sincere"?
Decades flew by as I revelled in love
When to him it was just a parody
Never once questioned his sincerity
Thinking myself his best beloved
Broken heart is such painful condition
Shattered shards of desire love's cruel game
Every breath infused with passionate pain
True cavalier suffers no contrition.
One day when this flame does not burn so bright
Will pick myself up and future rewrite.
Candid and fully exposed as the theatre’s light dims
She stands poised, dauntless disciplined and statuesque
A stance both stalwart and defiant yet supple are her limbs
Mango hued flower, shoulder's thrown back thrusting her breast
He sits rapped by intrigue as he studies her movement
A silver fox and raven mane is neatly brushed regally back
To beautify him further would take divine improvement
Only to be bathed in her impassioned embrace does he lack
Swirls of sangria red fabric charge like El toro spark undulating trails
Laced in pearly white with azure blue print mesmerize and highlight
And flow about her generous hips in a rage of billowing canvas sails
Flamenco dancers firm legs are revealed in fish nets that boldly invite
Whilst her furtive glimpse ignites his cavalier bon vivant smile
She bewiles with onyx eyes that glisten and fingers splayed for effect
He connects in a flash with a performers come hither guile
Upon times eternal river this fiery night's tryst they shall reflect
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