Gender-based violence: hurting the bottom line for PNG business
Sir Iambakey Okuk lives on in Rome, or so the legend says

The lessons of childhood

Lessons of childhood (Amanda Yeou)AMANDA YEOU

An entry in the 2015 Rivers Award
for Writing on Peace & Harmony

This poem is dedicated to our strong and beautiful mothers, the women who teach us how to live in peace and harmony with those around us. A special dedication to my mum, Miriam Yeou, and my best friend’s late mum, Karo Bogino. We honour you ladies for your hearts of purest gold.

When I was born you were there for me;
You fed me and kept me close to your heart;
Our hearts and emotions were one;
We were intimate!
We were one!

I grew up,
You held me close to you;
A mother’s love so sacred;
You were so scared;
I did not realize;
You were scared the world would be bad to me.

Do this! Do that!
Do not do this! Do not do that!
Don’t go there!
Blah! Blah! Blah!
Order! Order! Order!

We grew apart as seasons pass;
Oh how far your heart is!
Oh how far your feelings are!
We cannot connect with each other;
We grew apart.

Now I’m left with a piece of you;
Your beautiful face is reflected on mine;
The ethical values you once thought me are what I’ve left;
Your soft and concerned voice echoed in my ears;
Words and advices came flooding in.

A brave woman once told me;
You can never live life peacefully if you do not know how to create one;
Now my life is filled with joy, happiness, and peace;
But you are missing;
I miss you mum.

The lessons of childhood;
How obscure it was to my small brain;
But now I realized;
It is the root of a peaceful and harmonious life;
My today; my tomorrow; my future.


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Bomai D Witne

Beautiful piece, Amanda. Can you write something about the flying foxes in front of the DWU chapel.

Daniel Ipan Kumbon

This poem is a tribute to all mothers everywhere. They are the ones who held us close to their hearts in the condition that we were in.We are all made of her flesh and blood.

I hate it when women are accused of sorcery in this country. I don't like the sound of women weeping when their husbands beat them for whatever reason.

My mother is always in my heart. My father not much, maybe because I took his place. But mother...she was special and will always be. Thanks Amanda, for helping me to shed some fresh tears this morning.

Rashmii Amoah

Wonderful poem, Amanda. I love this!

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