Sweetest Peas

sweet_peas2
Sweet Peas, Walkerville 2016

Sweet Peas growing upon limestone cliffs above old lime kilns. Limestone mining was conducted at Walkerville (formerly Waratah) from 1878 to 1826. There is one post left of the 300-metre long wharf.

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image

This Queen

I am of the poetic heart and tender inclinations
Unlike the Queen bee who will accept any old drone
due to the biological and reproductive imperative
(that evil, evil, little fucking blonde tart;
this little Queen is extremely discerning and only has
a place in her heart for that one and only special bee.
The nectar of love and life is for him and him alone.
The fundamental motivation of this Queen is not
pleasures of the flesh ~ they are only a bonus to her
true nature, which is to be with her soul’s desire, her
eternal mate, her confidante; the drone who compliments
her being and enriches her existence.
He might think that he has to perform to a standard,
but he assumes wrong!
This Queen values soul and spirit over sexual prowess.
SO, BEWARE DRONE!
You may have to re assess your way of thinking.
Your value lies not so much in what you do,
but in who you intrinsically are!
This Queen knows your value.

DO YOU???

(c) 2005

Mother Father Chronicles

(1)

Now as her mind dies
he remembers
how frequent were
his wrong doings
and his grief is palpable

(2)

Her delicate feminine wrist
once cracked through his torment
Now as her memory fades
and his recaptures,
he holds it tenderly
weeping at its beauty

(3)

Little did he realise
as the brandy, burning
splashed his eyes
as her anger peaked
with his surprise,
that in thirty years
her flame would die
and with her empty shell
he would lie
eyes still burning
brandy-less, they cry

© Ajanta Judd 2007

Betrayal

csa_ribbons
St.Patrick’s Cathedral, Ballarat, Victoria, Australia

The colourful reminder ribbons tied by clergy child sexual abuse survivors & their supporters on the front gate of St.Patrick’s Cathedral Ballarat.

Such suffering caused
By those who betrayed blind trust
They shall not forget

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image

Sage Garnett Graham – A Work in Progress

lensflare_vivid_clouds

Sage is lying on her back – stretched out on the freshly cut grass which circles like an amphitheatre around the Botanic gardens bird lake. The clouds are floating past like elongated balls of cotton wool. They’re white then light grey, then an ominous charcoal. They string out like fairy floss being pulled apart in blobs and strands. The slowness of the dense whites are passed by the speediness of wispy charcoal filaments and in the distant background the steady towering banks of cumulous hold fort over the dancing and cavorting foreground. And all the while it is the earth turning in unison with the gusting wind which assists their passing. The dank smell of stagnant water mingled with bird droppings hangs in the warm afternoon air. It took a while to find a spot not littered with bird poop but she was determined to think and reflect on how she was going to deal with the latest issue at hand. She studies the passing fiesta of clouds as she ponders the gravity of yesterday’s death battle.
‘Well, it was either me or, him and who would have thought that she could turn things around like she did?’
He’d planned it well – his modus operandi – not a fail-safe plan but a cunning one. Daring even. For there was an assumption on his part that she would be of the mind to investigate how and why there were legs protruding from the undergrowth. That in her curiosity, she would wander off the track and into his trap. Someone else might have scampered off in fear or gone to fetch help. Which makes her think that he may have known something about her and her particular mentality. ‘How so?’, she wonders.

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image

Gentle Imposition

reeds_clouds
Reeds, Lake Calambeen, Creswick Victoria

                                        

Gently touched by the breeze
the grass is so delicate,
but strong enough to withstand the imposition
Much as I wish to gently touch you
and thank you for being
strong enough to withstand
the imposition of my delicacy

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image

The Island

the_island
Toward Cape Woolamai, Phillip Island

The Island. Encapsulated.  In well entrenched entitlement.
Landholdings owned by a handful of prominent settler families of dubious heritage.
The land devoid of its indigenous peoples.
Eradication by small pox, a massacre here and there; a long spate of disappearances.
An aphotic disconcerting history covered by layers of white settlement, privilege and impiety.
This Island, ‘Phillip’ in white man’s terms.
Corriong or Millowl as known by the local Boonwurrung peoples.
Local by at least 40,000 years. That would be a ‘belonging’ which, puts ‘30 years local’ by to shame.
During the summer months traditional peoples would scout the coastal territory of the Island by bark canoe, aware of the rich variety of foods available.
Well honed in the nuances of the waters, the variable shoreline; the flora and fauna.
An unpredictable sea cavorting this way and that.
At once a glimmering still mirror, then a gentle swell emitting playful almost melodic ripples, then a surging, threatening turbulence – fierce, erratic, untameable.

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image

Australia Day Reality

australia_day
Lemon Scented Gums on a scorching day

Welcome to a day of realistic remembrance…

Whilst Australia is a wonderful country and there is much to be grateful for, Australia Day remains a bitter sweet occurrence within its historical and social relevance to Indigenous Australians. Furthermore, as long as the welfare of our Indigenous friends is not adequately addressed, there can be no restitution.

Right across this land – look past the horizon – out into the beyond – feel your feet on the surface – zone in – right to the core – feel the expanse – the immensity – the wonder – not just this country but all over the planet – out beyond this planet – galaxy upon galaxy …….. it is not ours to own – to exploit – to tarnish….. and how can we be so conceited to think that we’re the only ones? We are visitors – all of us – we must behave like visitors – with respect and reverence …. Some may think that they own a small piece of it – but they don’t…really….. how can we possibly own that which is not given? We only assume things to be so and as such, we are always at odds with the universal law ……When we learn to abide by this law – when we learn to live in the universal flow…we will cease the struggle, the control and the greed… And what of love? It is said that love is all that is required…as if by some magical flick of a wand, love fixes everything.. How ignorant is that?? Love is an intent – a verb – a doing word – not a random emotion and not something to be bandied around to make ourselves feel good. If we tried to heal our woes with emotions, what a mess it would be! ….And it is! LOVE is the genuine intention of good will – of desiring well being for all. Not this disingenuous crap espoused by those in fancy garb. Let the false prophets be exposed, let the hypocrisy be revealed….let there be a genuine intent – may harmony and ease of living prevail. Stuff patriotism – (as Oscar Wilde said: “the virtue of the vicious”) – I pledge my allegiance to this wonderful universe and its eons old ways of creating harmony and order!

The little minds of human kind are no match for this…

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image