Primordial Times
 
In valleys deep where ancient stories dwell,
Eight hundred tongues weave tales of long ago,
Where tribal wisdom passed through time, to tell
Of sacred dance and kundu drums on show.
From Highland peaks to Sepik River's flow,
The ancestors' paths mark every mountainside;
In bilum bags the old traditions grow,
And singsings paint the cultures' vibrant pride.
Through eons countless these nations did reside,
Each clan a world of custom, myth and law,
Where spirit houses pierced the great divide,
And elders' words commanded people's awe.
    In this mosaic land of tribes diverse,
    Each language held a galaxy in verse.

Modern Tides

Now Port Moresby's streets tell different tales,
Of promised wealth that slips through grasping hands,
While raskol gangs thrive as urban solidity fails,
And politicians break their sworn commands.
The people's trust, like footprints in the sand,
Is washed away by greed and failed reform,
And village youth seek life in foreign lands,
Their dreams extinguished by poverty's storm.
Yet, somehow, the people's spirit stays warm,
It will not surrender to the pain of daily strife,
As those who would the nation's wealth transform
Bathe in the narcissism that represents their life.
    And through darkness deep as jungle shadows cast,
    The people's strength ensures that this won't last.

Tomorrow's Dawn

Beyond these trials, a brighter day's in sight,
Where education escorts the children's way,
And ancient wisdom guides the people's might
To forge a path where all have equal say.
The nation's wealth, no longer held at bay
By foreign hands or elite leaders' greed,
Will flow like rivers in the light of day,
To plant in fertile soil tomorrow's seed.
For in this land, so blessed with all it needs—
From forest deep to coral reef sublime—
The future calls as destiny proceeds
To write new chapters for the end of time.
    Let fifty years be but the starting song
    Of greatness that to Papua New Guinea belongs.