HILDA DAVID-AIPI

That precious moment
That glorious morning
In that place of worship
My life’s course to change
From being young to now
My life’s destiny, you
You were destined for me

JOSEPH TAMBURE

Have experienced sad and all emotions 
Sometimes faced death, unprepared but conquered 
But will one day return to that faraway place I call home

Sun burned, rain washed, cold wind chilled
Have travelled, tastes of all kinds felt
Seen faces of all colours, heard strange dialects 
One day to return to that faraway place I call home

ISO YAWI

Written for my nieces Fidelyn and Shamalyn

Dear Big Sister
I write this letter to tell you
About my world

It all began
In a little young a soul
Yes, my soul

Deep fear and sadness arise
It filled my vessel with anxiety
Like a mist watering the earth

WARDLEY BARRY

I don't take to poetry
For fun or for the thrill –
Not anymore.

I don't take it lightly.
There's a darker feel,

An even darker story
To every line, every jot,
Every ill-gotten thought.

WALLACE PARIMAHI

Port Moresby - Wallace’s story, ‘Project Infiltration’, won the Grades 11 -12 category for Best Language Usage Story in the Paradise College ANIS Writing Competition

DAY FIFTY-TWO BEGAN with fear; the type that kept me awake at night; the type that filled me with disconcerting uncertainty; the type that was present from the beginning.

It had been fifty-two days since my carefully orchestrated escapade and too long since my unfortunate kidnapping. I had seemed to have lost track of time.

PHILIP FITZPATRICK

So what did you do for a crust?
Oh, the usual, public service and all that
Me too, I was in health administration
Before that I was a kiap in Papua New Guinea
That’s interesting, who do you barrack for?

I walked the high mountains and deep valleys
I reckon the Eagles will make the finals this year
I met men who had never seen steel before
Go on, is that right, is that your car out there?
And I saw men fighting with bows and arrows

ISO YAWI

A band of warriors
Bold and brave with spears
Splendour of their forefathers
Invoked deep is their courage
Faces painted traditional colours of war
All true stewards of nature!

Brothers and sisters of Morobe
Spears sharpened in Tutumang haus
They will not give up
Fighting for Huon Gulf's clear beauty
Saying no to the mine's deep sea deposits
All true stewards of nature!

RAYMOND SIGIMET

We who fear darkness 
Or stoke his powers
Will come under his spell 
A pit hard to ascend 

Our breath will become his 
Giving life to him 
And all things sinister 
That imprison our will

RAYMOND SIGIMET

Have all good poems been written
That we today have none to share 
What then of the heart being smitten 
By the beauty of eyes that stare 
Or the walk that none can compare 

Have all good poems been written 
That we today have none to read 
What then of the loss that burden 
A broken heart held by a thread 
Or photo lost to time instead

STEPHANIE ALOIS

You had your plans
But I wish you had involved hers
You told her you love her one moment
But disappeared in the next
You knew she’d risk anything for you
That she’ll face the world alone
But you still left anyway
Why were you so selfish?
How could you?

A G SATORI

FACTION - I sidled up to Ve’ Maghe working on his next piece of writing or legal argument.  He was engrossed in penning a few lines and did not look up.

I’d been friends with Ve’ Maghe for a long time and had been around him so long I think he could recognise my smell, especially the lavender cologne that I liked to wear.  It was registered in his brain.

BAKA BINA

FICTION – “Watch where you go there. Don’t you see your brother’s momberr? You will walk all over your brother’s tapolis!”

What momberr or what tapolis, and what language are they this time?  I need not ask about the latter.

That was Forapi or Low Lufa language from the Eastern Highlands Province.  It was Bubu’s sentimental language.

RAYMOND SIGIMET

When the white starch is here 
Mama and papa will smile and wink 
Now they have food of their people 
That special food from fertile lands 
Which stands proud on the land 

When the white starch is here 
Mama and papa will talk and laugh 
Now they have food from home 
That special food to be shared 
Which brings occasion to family

GREGORY BABLIS

Masks protect
They conceal
They hold back
Then they reveal

They identify
They distinguish
They may terrify
But may also save you future anguish

RAYMOND SIGIMET

I

FICTION - The young woman drifted almost unnoticed to sit beside me. She was probably in her mid-twenties and without doubt strikingly beautiful.

From the way she was dressed she seemed educated. Maybe a teacher or a nurse or a research student who, like me, was headed to the islands.

I was on the starboard deck of MV Papua with just the warm sea breeze and a Philip Fitzpatrick Hari Metau novel keeping me company when she took the empty seat beside me.

EDWIN LAKO

KUNDIAWA - Sine-Gai Tine oh, Prena oh! Your face is like the sunrise when looking up from the bottom of Mt Wilhelm, blinding me for a moment.

Your complexion is as fair as the sands of Madang beach, your hands are as tender as a shepherd’s and you have a warrior’s calf.

Your eyes and smile mesmerise me, and your laughs, they hypnotise me.

STEPHANIE ALOIS

Always in a dilemma of loathing and loving
Your family that keep secrets
You are dismayed but they plead for your silence
It’s for your protection they say,
It’s for everyone’s peace
You want to disappear
But the feeble child inside you feels insecure
Home is what they provide
So you tolerate their exploitative ways
Yes, we all get broken any way
And a reckless healing would do anyway

LINDSAY F BOND

Words that Francis plied to vantage
verbs he wove into his work,
nouns he’s nourished now are vintage,
wounds he hid nor spoke nor wrote;
epithets his ought not languish,
pronouns he so keenly wrought,
determiners he spiced, assuaged,
wants, inveigles, interests, sought.

FICTION BY RAYMOND SIGIMET

I didn’t see my baby after the Caesarian. My sedated state made it impossible to do that.

After the procedure, the baby was taken from the operating theatre and brought to the nursery. I was told I would not see my miracle until I was able to sit up in bed.

I was afraid I might not recognise my baby.

FRICTION BY PHILIP FITZPATRICK

The theory goes that if you elect your leaders democratically you end up with a disorganised rabble of one trick ponies, carpetbaggers and other chancers running the place.

According to proponents of this ‘democracy is a rabble’ theory, a one party system is a lot more efficient and better for the general populace.

GREGORY BABLIS

Is this the death of progress?
Or the progression of death?
NCO – New Covid Order
A Trojan-horse
For NWO – New World Order
Stuck in purgatory
A perpetual limbo
Is this the new normal?
Niupla Pasin protocol.

Jeremiah Munini

JEREMIAH MUNINI

PORT MORESBY - Kipilan, a leader of the Yanarian people near Wabag in Enga Province, was born in Tambori village, in the 1920s.

Three months before Papua New Guinea’s independence on 16 September 1975, he went to Port Moresby to record the story of his life in the Enga language and anthropologist Philip Nere translated it to English.

LICEANNE UTAH

PORT MORESBY - Gender based violence is a big problem in Papua New Guinea and this includes what’s going on in the minds of this children when families are in conflict and there is separation or divorce.

For most children, family is all that matters. When families split, all these children want is the happy and normal life they used to have.

MICHAEL DOM

There were coconut trees, I remember,
Four, which would have me at the door
With the sounds of their arrival
I creamed them for us
And we did not want more

There was the wind that night, a sign,
Tempestuous love affair of earth and sea
And we did not know that
That time would soon be at an end
We spoke of the barren grapevine
And listened in silence
To words left unsaid

GREGORY BABLIS

Inspired by the leadership and politics of Sir John Guise as revealed in the recently released ‘Palace Letters’

Oh Diprose
For a businessman
You were too verbose
Speaking out of line
When it was not your place
Brought back in line
By a bigman of our times.

Lindsay F Bond featuring an Oro style hairdo

MICHAEL DOM

My moral compass swings
On the freed finger tips
Of the monster I hide

The smiling fiend who haunts my dreams
Whose cold silhouette passes me
By the doorway in the mirror

It swings there just at arm’s length
One step away from horror
One move and I embrace it

I cannot subvert
This weird reflection
To love or hate it

Like a shadow that I cannot outrun
The compass on my own extended arm

WARDLEY BARRY

I could almost taste her
melanin,
a powerful blackness oozing
from her neck
and the back
of her ear.
Her lips moved
to emancipate a folktale;
each word carefully chosen,
hastily spoken
between spasms of fear
and anticipation.

Gregory Bablis

GREGORY BABLIS

You asked me why, why don’t I leave you?
But in the same breath, you walked over and locked the door
My head spun, as blow after blow
You performed me a special number
My own tune that night after night I fell asleep to.

Neim blo yu em bikpla lo PNG
You told me you had many other names too
Elvis Presley, Mr Universe, Mr PNG
Mr Money Bags, Fast and Furious
The ‘Dark Prince’ himself
Bruce Lee.

Moru in Finschhafen 1884–1885. Sketch by Otto Finsch

ISO YAWI

A SILHOUETTE passed quickly through the tree line beyond the fence at the back of Yamang’s compound.

He could see it clearly. It looked like a woman looking for something, maybe lost children, or a lost animal.

Slowly nature’s clock turned.

MAIKEL DOM

Mi tasol mi buai,
Na stik daga
Na sel kambang wantaim:
Mi tasol olsem blut i kapsait

Mi sting long ai bilong yu,
Mekim tit i bilak
Na sigirapim sik tu:
Mi tasol mekim maus i sua

CAROLINE EVARI

There are superheroes
Big and small
Young and old
In the real world
In the fantasy world

Not all superheroes have superpowers
Like Superman or Batman
Wonder woman or Cat woman
Although sometimes
I wish it was so

RAYMOND SIGIMET

Ssssssh! 
Silence
Listen 

Can you hear the soil?  
Can you hear the trees? 
Can you hear the leaves?

The falling leaves
The sprouting shoots 
The condensing mist

MAIKEL DOM

English translation follows the Tok Pisin original

Eh, mi seksek long meri ia
Lek, han na lewa guria
Taim maus blong em singautim mi
Taim em lukluk long ai blong mi
Bun bilong mi tanim wara

Aiyo mama, aiyo lewa 
Meri em naispla samting ia 
Tasol nogut em less long mi
             Eh, mi seksek!

WARDLEY BARRY

he didn't plan to leave, he never wanted to
he wanted to stay, to build, to see things through
it started off with the doors slamming
then followed the swearing and the shaming

a punch to the head and kick to the balls
whenever his sister or father calls
once she kicked his mother out of the house
and said she has the right to as the spouse

RAYMOND SIGIMET

I

The dark clouds and rain from the sea came down heavily during the night. The wind lifted the curtains a few times.

A few papers were blown off their pile and landed on the varnished floorboards.

A series of lightning flashes and thunder razed overhead for some time and then moved across the sprawling city suburbs.

GIDEON KINDIWA

With hope, I chose you
With respect, I honour you
With trust, I held on to you

Speak for me, I whispered
Cry for me, I cried
Bleed for me, I’m wounded

STEPHANIE ALOIS

‘Twas our forefathers’ definition of fame
A cultural aspect that magnified their name
‘Twas a sport in the primitive days
A method for acquiring land rights
Still, a technique that aroused mournful cries
A taint of the nightmare that kept villagers on guard

‘Twas a custom infused into our grandfathers
Demanding submission to be a tradition of our grandmothers
Whenever the inhumane figure awakened
‘Twas a weapon that guaranteed security
Still, the means that troubled their identity
An inescapable infection that existed in the community

GIDEON KINDIWA

It’s still and dark
No sign of light
Nor sound
Except my heartbeat
And breathing

Weight on my shoulders
Rock pressin’ me down
Twice the force of gravity
Pullin’ my heels
Draggin’ my steps

ISO YAWI

LAE - Three o’clock in the morning. The air was fresh; the humidity dense.

The barking dogs could be heard clearly across the stillness. The place was dark and the morning stars glimmered.

Such an hour of the day in the neighbourhood. Sweet sleep for some, snoring into a new day for others. And, for a few nocturnals, a continuing party.

GIDEON KINDIWA

You’re chasin’ the wind
Your feet’s dancin’ thing
The ground is hot coal
Jus’ burnin’ your soul
You couldn’t stand firm
With this world’s turn

You’ve had enough
But you can’t rebuff
You just want more
Your heart’s so sore
You couldn’t look back
And say, ‘What the heck?

‘I’ve got all I need
‘I don’t need to feed
‘It’s nothin’ but greed
‘That’s mak’n me bleed’
But instead you chase
Your greed into space

STEPHANIE ALOIS

             She fell for the sparkle in his eyes
                          His final smile each time he leaves
                              Blinded her vision, detained her speech
                                     Oh, such a feeling!
                                       She longed for more
                                            But he just stood
                                               The love left unsaid

MAIKEL DOM

igatim planti tumas

        solwara i tromoi

  wanwan dei

         tasol

ERIC MOLONG

I once took a million mile leap,
And told a lie to prove it.
I think everyone is high,
They believed it and so did I.

I once lived a lie for every day I woke,
And woke up the next with a lie to tell,
The routine in the day is unbearable,
A death from a million lies more tolerable!

Hezron Wangi Jr

HEZRON WANGI JR

Putridity o’ liquid flesh,
Corrosive tears and cursed heart,
A secret too dark,
And lethal to part,
Alas, some truth must depart.

Apparitions in the dark,
Voices in the halls,
Seeping secrets,
Of her murderous fall,

Author Baka Bina asks you to review his short story. I'm here to tell the judges it's a rattling good yarn, absolutely splendid - KJ

BAKA BINA

PORT MORESBY - I had submitted this story to the Commonwealth Writers Prize for 2020. Three stories from Australia and New Zealand were on the short list. None of the Pacific islands entries made it.

Like Thomas Hukahu has said, we in Papua New Guinea tell stories but not in the same way that first language English speakers wants them told, or how they want to hear them.

STEPHANIE ALOIS

Secrets in my head
Scars in my heart
Fear in my bones
I want to explode
Each time I’m provoked
To remember what happened

Desperate to make things right
But the situation’s too tight
Should I choose dad?
Should I choose uncles?
Love and hate them all
in equal measure
I’m stuck in the middle

RAYMOND SIGIMET

Soft embrace of morning
I plead you come quickly
I am restless and waiting

While the night's still sleeping
my mind is all awake
It is talking and mocking

MICHAEL DOM

One day when I opened my mouth to speak
I heard a language I did not understand
I went to the bathroom to take a peek
At my reflection in the sky-roofed mirror and
To my relief the face was my very own
So I said, "Oh it's you,
I thought for a moment you were gone"
And mirror-me smirked back through
The thin looking-glass veneer
"Yes, it's me, you know I'm no voice in your head"
So I replied with a sardonic sneer
"That's ok, come on out, I won't tell till I'm dead"
Then mirror-me smiled and looked back eye-to-eye
When he said, "Back to work boy", his lips moved, not mine.

JUSTIN KUNDALIN

The hour most loved
The hour most blessed
The hour most sacred
The hour of prayer.

The hour Christian loves
The hour the devil detests
The hour God honours
The hour of prayer

JUSTIN KUNDALIN

Study hard
No truant can succeed
World is no place for sluggards
For education, truancy is a crime

Study hard
Key to unlock excellence.
Cause of educational quality
Not studying hard impedes