Grappling with Gripes

                                                                                          Attribution: Jakub Halun
Image: Birds on Sticks - Street Food in Shanghai
Source: Wikimedia Commons (here)

Propelling his mind through sloppy ventures
A slice of ungrateful windows showing their noses
The fury of winds skating on calm waters
Of tenderness evolved shining as shadows

He felt curious stares of mice so blind
Liken to clear surface on table tops
He paced his parched lips on grated lines
And started running slipping back with stops

The shrill cry of nights with sleepy owls
Could fill gritting teeth that pushed his resolve
Blue in his face but he kept playing foul
A factor that kept needling him to absolve

Shaking his head he could only smile
His perch unshaken deep in a broken dish
Self rooted to surface for some while
He was not inclined to such goodness bliss

Still of the night, blasted at his anger
Urged on by graceful maidens he faced
As that was typical of his own bother
He could only strike at knotted white laces

Written for Get Listed, The Grapeling's Way at Real Toads