Knees

Polished floors and rustic steps
A young chirp and whistle
Steaming from a lower place
From winged smiles in the thistle

Recorded dreams and smaller things
From raised platforms of wood
A backwards glance through a window
A humming as he did what he could

Clicked rhythms and blackened thirst
Quenched and found once more
An upturned mouth with creased eyes
Holds frustration behind the door

Masked moods and country laughs
Trees, eggs and fruit
A seedy grin and a blended heartbeat
Pulse. Pulse.

Mirrored shine and whitened hair
The day withers more than body
Polished floors and rustic steps
Creak: The workman's shoddy

Creaking footsteps and cracking shoes
'Neath woolen traps
Exhausted knees and ankles,
Ready to collapse

Startling gasps and ringing noises
Encapsulating voices
Fences holding secrets, lies
And all the crippled choices

Masked moods and city horns
Cars, roads and glass
Tarred rhythms burn your feet and
Pulse. Pulse.

A Spanish monk inordinately quiet
And a spirit in hiding
Misplaced skies and hard work
And green time, it's biding

A bill for comfort, for love
Tipping, sniping and biting
The churchyard far from shelter
The horse and cart alighting

A busy tone, a theoretical box
A bowled universe, nesting
Compounded by predication
Life attacking, heart testing

Masked moods and sheep fleeces
Rams and littered boxes
Burned haystacks wither and
Pulse. Pulse.

Gleaning knowledge and factual tales
From an ancient source
'Lies to do not become us', no
They neither tempt nor force

No, damply lit rooms tell stories
Truth and music shine
Through metal and arteries
And souls so divine

A mirrored shine from a gleaming temptress
A steamed window of hope
Exhausted elbows and hands
Only fumble the escape rope

Masked moods and heroism
Powers and wings alike
Love, tears and an esoteric heart
Pulse. Pulse.

A cat with hearing aids
And fur of blackened mess
Tempestuous beast, an intruder
Its fortune will bruise, no less

A call from above, ringing through ears
Ankles twisting on cracked heels
A cloudless disarray of the jumble
Floats casually through air-tight seals

Birth of a blasting yoke
A fiery storm of the gorgeous air
The tolling bells, a bat in rafters
Hides love and knots his hair

Masked moods and swinging disuse
Shoes rumbling the floorboards
Two birds find one stone
And pulse. Pulse.

Leathered warmth, leathered daily
A cobbler of songs, a chef of rhyme
Creaking stairs find tunes within
And harmonise in time

Heather hanging from
Rustic public houses
Steel chances not futile
Drowning sorrows whilst he arouses

"Temper temper, sir"
Said voice to mind in cattle sheds
A fish swims by, a pond for him
Tailored metal strips for creaking beds

Masked moods and hideous dreams
Spoiling time-keeping and rest
The best is actualised and his feet run
And pulse. Pulse.

Life is statued against horizons
And feelings are mulled over
As they circle like flocks
And swarm like a wandering rover

Blocked passage of breath and such
A dead end but a light
The tunnel bears it and silhouettes
The daytime separate from night

A curved cheek like the curved world
Under cracked shoes and lace
Polished floors and rustic steps
The smoothness enlisted on the face

Masked moods and a starry temptress
Innexorable glares from circles
Embody pain and thump you
And pulse. Pulse.

Crooked wizards point wands and utter
Incantations but they're human like all
Guitars are magic, though
And with them days never fall

Corregated steel door, a blockade
Stands withered against the barn-wall
A straw-bed populous
With life-forms, they stand tall

Shadows flicker in eyes
And spirits soar, souls sing
But shadows enrapture even you
And the most mundane thing

Masked moods and flowered hairdos
'Mongst meadows fit for plants and bees
Hearts, souls, spirits and music; pulse. pulse.
But nothing like from that of knees.