....and the very bestest Christmas to all our readers
Mountains & rivers: solo adventurer gets set to do PNG

Oh how we miss this feisty, jocular teller of legends


Patrick & Alfred
Big Pat Levo with the diminutive Alfred Kaniniba

NOOSA - You’re leaning back after a few Christmas Day jugs saying to yourself ‘my work here is done, I can skive off for a bit’, when suddenly a long absent presence storms the inbox.

It has a name and its name is Patrick ‘Big Pat’ Levo, scion of the Gulf crocodile eaters, plantain procurers and sago suckers. Not to mention buai bashers.

Reluctant as I was to receive this missive from Big Pat on the birthday of Jesus (or, indeed, any day at all), I could not help but see that it contained a pome (poem) written in pottery (poetry).

I remarked to myself, because no one else would listen, that this was more than passing strange, it was high speed and reckless overtaking of strange.

A strangeness that begets a sudden and nervous, "What the feck is going on here".

So without further ado, as the man said after his 45 minute introductory speech, I offer you the blank verse of Big Pat, if not Papua New Guinea's leading journalist then surely its tallest, and wittiest:

Greetings oh merry ones,
may the angelic harp of Saint John's harpoon you,
with thy faithful tunes of Christmas by the fyfe,
that you may be merry and blessed,
as you feast on pork & boroma,
you teller of feisty legends,
roam on wild and unfettered.
your dear friend in the river
--- saint patricio

To which I saw fit to respond, under the pseudonym of Keith the Ugly in order to best disguise my true identity:

Greetings oh lost and begotten comrade
Who ditched high class living for the swamps
Now do you yearn for what was left behind?
A small bribe to plant a story benign, on page 9
A free feed  for a minister’s pic (girlfriend absent)
A trip to Australia for a conference meaning nothing

But no, you are not a man of disrepute
You are a spirit of high thought and passion
A man of the clan who understands your kind
Who can see a place that is better than you know
Who espies the flaws like a dog espies fleas
A true man of his people, not a man of cardboard

That’s it, you can all go back to bed now….


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Lindsay F Bond

mistily perceived feint grin of Cheshire, sheer images sans error?

Patrick Levo

ha ha my dear brethren
how i miss your poetic exposes,
aloft alone in the sea breezes,
clinging for dear life in the crow’s nest
flinging to and fro in the bosom of the winded west
except for those who sent yuh,
in the big salty bass strait venture,
my heart cannot fathom breathing by the heads,
dear friend, let the wind be your first mate,
and the cloth unfurled your trusty guide,
plot by the whiff of cloud,
and the stars shall guide you proud,
sail on sail on sailor, may yours be a mighty victory!
in the mull of Hobart....

Murray Bladwell

Alas big Pat an ugly dream of Keith did have
A pseudonym in hiding on Noosa shores abroad
While from the swampland dreams of Christmas feasting
Roast ribs of pork with crackling in abundance
Feed fading memories of a journalistic past
Once shared with supportive souls who also shared the vision
Remembering a past that saw a shining future
Which stutters yet holds a dream to enact
And from across the seas come friendships still intact

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