Judith Vriesema Poems

Sometimes,
in the quiet of an autumn afternoon when geese fly through a sun-laden sky,
memories erupt and emerge composing their own symphonies of music.
Light falls through the silence of rooms that are stored with volumes of emotions and words;
...

Morning rush-hour sounds cavort with newspapers
that fly across cobblestone streets into open doorways.
Subway sounds rush through London's waking dreams.
The scent of coffee hovers in the air while music begins to life-play.
...

Shallow words that echo beyond time;
thoughts poised in flight upon a blue monochrome wall,
converge with the early morning sun.
Eyes the depth of puddles try in vain
...

Einstien called it rapture.
Mozart called it failed genius.
God called it the color blue.
All existing in a dynamic;
...

Blue green water lit by moonlight
comes to life as rain from a summer storm falls into its depths.
Life chortles on lily pads,
and the smell of wet earth invades our senses.
...

Leaves swirl across a canvas.
In the hands of an artist,
colour is its own muse.
In the hands of the wind,
...

Seagulls circle and fall from clouds
of aqua and amber light.
Their cries play like jazz silhouettes in the cold Icelandic spring.
From a distance,
...

The wind composed a sonata upon weathered
copper chimes that danced in an ancient tree outside my window.

Birds slumbered and dreamed of songs yet unheard;
...

I close my eyes,
One more time I close my eyes.
Sh!
Listen.
...

The sea challenged the wind to a game of chess.
And the colours
of the sun were drenched in a late summer haze.
The drought began to break under silver clouds that were
...