Thursday, September 29, 2016

Tumbleweed Contessa's poem: A Trembling Balance

If you are seeking love that glitters between the fragmented slivers of previous broken attempts, take care you don't collide with the silversmith as she hammers out the truth.

© A Trembling Balance
Mimi Wolske
All Rights Reserved
Embryonic thoughts,
raw, and
splatter the page.
Changing moods,
like tidal waves
feuding between
want and need,
demand compensatory words.
Tumbleweeds cleave to
the desert. Lo! They rush
ahead of the wind
and awkwardly
roll toward freedom.
Love is yellow and
the deepest blue,
pied with
the morning
and with the night.
My love is a trembling balance.

(painting: WIP (work in progress) oils, by Mimi Wolske