‘Laced with purple shades and hues

the rich, the dark, the juxtaposed.

The texture, the smell, the pheromones…

She, herself, her sex composed

of warm rich odours and earthly scent.

One breath exhales such masked intent

at once with overt purpose bold

yet underneath such mystery, behold,

a delicate thread where stories are told

in subliminal looks and lingering stares.

Drenched in desires and intimate folds

ignited flames though smouldering cold

with skin of ice so tightly clenched

the heat and burning of love unquenched.

Dichotomy of what is and what can be

the chance to make real this fantasy…

She is both blatant and understated

the choice lies with the initiated

to pursue the subtle hints of heaven.

Roundness, smoothness, the moist of her, then…

laced with purple shades and hues

the rich, the dark, the juxtaposed.

The scent, the smell, the pheromones…

She, herself, her sex composed.’

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


Caves, Bunurong Marine Park, Inverloch, Victoria

Something has burst
in my heart
it erupts forth
seeping through
the valley
of my breasts
pooling at my navel
overflowing my belly
an oozing molten lava
sliding through
an enchanted forest
mingling with
vibrant foothills
into the dark
intense heat
of my

(c) Ajanta Judd Words & Image