You, almost silent Musical prophecies with rarely discernible words but energies A self-made metaphor for your life Speak to me In a language crafted in the minuscule pause between heartbeats While I shout Everything Loud Words Are the accumulated wealth of my lifetime’s Work Laid…

Ancestor continuity soften fluctuating wisp shaping smoke, curling curating and carting itself back home, replicated genome building medieval lived material, consumption becoming believing in what went before. Side step translucent symbolic branches, sweeping out to sea rescue my individual, treating as outer markings link me,…

There is nothing in this world that is beyond me. I am the son of a billionaire dad And as the heir to his empire, the world eats from the palm of my hand   There is nothing in this world that is above me…

I turn into myself. I turn into you. Together we’re telling a new kind of truth. We’re stronger together than we’ve been on our own. And the best part is that we are never alone.

By Ajanta Judd All Rights Reserved – 5 pm 28/06/2020 Australian EST Prompt 19; Hour 19: You can use this either as an image prompt, jumping off the image below to write a poem, or you can write about what it’s like to be one…

The seats faced backwards so medical personnel could face the patients…   I was not medical personnel; I was a 6 year old child flying home with my Mother On the only flight available To get ‘home’ from home – RAF Wildenrath – quickly, So…

Lifestyle float – breeze drift undulating undercurrent unconvention creative veneer veil unruddered impulse, perennial recess no respite gained, restful erosion edifice strove at generations, liberty restored in starvation dust bowl fester, en-bond me in mechanistic systematic processes, grant holy days in sweet brow labor contrast,…

By Ajanta Judd All Rights Reserved – 4 pm 28/06/2020 Australian EST Prompt 18; Hour 18: Write a narrative poem set during a holiday. It could be a poem based on your own lived experience or it could be an imagined event. A narrative poem…

In some Native languages, the word plant translates as ‘those who take care of us’* In Welsh, the word plant itself means children Wrapped up in these words is the eternal cycle of Earth Of birth and death and rebirth Ancient secrets and forgotten truths…

Mother had promised I would spend the holiday breaks At my uncle’s place The holiday came but Mother lost her face While in the kitchen she had an accident That singular act sent everything backwards Had she not been hospitalised towards The resumption of school…