Born with a purpose
Lloyd Hurrell - Kiap, soldier, planter – dies at 95

Scars of the storm


After the chaos and confusion of Mum’s death

Debris on beaches;
Meet my stare
Flotsam below still waters;
Give that eerie glare

Broken branches;
Strewn here and there
Scattered leaves;
Left lying without care

Jigsaw puzzle pieces;
Now marred and bare
Jagged, not smooth edges;
Suddenly not so rare

Heaps of missing parts;
Life can be so unfair !
Must pick up the fragments;
And once more dare

The fleeting calm’s;
My time to prepare
Another storm looms;
And I’d better be AWARE!

Steven Hulamari Ilave Snr (54) was born in Kikori in Gulf Province.  His family comes from Ihu on the coast to the east. He is married to Annie and has eight children. He studied at UPNG and in the UK and is a development economist by profession. His inspiration to write comes from two prominent Gulf Province men: Albert Moari Kiki and Vincent Eri. He has started his first book which he hopes to finish in 2013.  He writes poems part-time as an escape from the rat-race of a life in the city of Port Moresby


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Steven H Ilave (Snr)

Thanks for the comments. A little more background on the poem. I come from the Orokolo Bay area of the Gulf Province where large rivers such as the Purari flow into the sea, in the Gulf of Papua.

Most villages (including mine) are located on the coastline in between these rivers in the delta areas.

There are miles and miles of this beautiful, grey, sandy beaches that stretch out - east and west, as far as the eye can see. The sun rise and sunsets on these beaches are awesome to behold on good days.

For me just walking along the beach, breathing in the sea breeze, feeling the sand under my feet and experiencing the tranquillity is spiritual therapy even now. Similar to a mother's presence in the home.

But I also know and have experienced times when the seas in Orokolo bay have been angry. When the winds have been upset and have belted the coastline.

I know mornings that I have woken up and have gone out to the same beach after a windy stormy night and see evidence of the storm of the night before.

Logs, leaves, fallen coconuts and chaos left behind by the storm. The wind may have died down now and the sea may be still. But I know it’s only fleeting calm.

There are storms in life as well and they come in various forms. The passing of a parent particularly leaves more than just deep scars for the child.

The normal order in the family is now gone. There is this added chaos and confusion left behind, akin to the aftermath of the storm on that beach. The kid must learn to pick up the “pieces” , move on.

Michael Dom

I'm liking your quatrain Steven.

It would be a devastating for any family to lose a mother.

Beautiful expression, I reckon. And very solid images to connect with.

Mrs Barbara Short

Lovely poem, Steven.
Best wishes with the book.

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