New writing Feed

The Old Man ponders his lonely life

Sunset
As the sun set over the low hills of Port Moresby, the Old Man would go to the veranda to read

DANIEL KUMBON
| Edited extracts

FICTION - While the Old Man embraced the notion that he was like the Albatross, committed to one partner for life, he was finding it hard to cope with the agony of acute depression.

He had been so dependent on Rosemary. She had provided him with all the love a man could ever need. He felt her loss immensely. It was a burden too heavy to bear on his own. Perhaps he shouldn’t have loved her too much.

Continue reading "The Old Man ponders his lonely life" »


Dobasi Wandkii

DOBASIKOIVI REX BIWA

Beauty is the word for you, no other can do
I found you somewhere, now I don’t know how,
Your smile, it just made that moment explode
I failed in my choice of the right words for you
Doo dobasi wandkii, oh!

Long lasting nights, full with fragrant dreams
Your countenance lighting my imagination
Your voice feels as gentle as the sweetest of petals
I goose bump all over at the sense of your touch
Ape do dobasi wandkii maa!

Continue reading "Dobasi Wandkii" »


Mud Woman

Mud Woman (Karen K Redding)STEPHANIE ALOIS

She smells of Goroka coffee
in the perfume she wears each morning
What a beautiful way to start a day
Made of strawberry and honey
It’s difficult to resist her charms
Hooked on her explosive personality

A taste of wine in her presence
Spending more time with her
Leads to loving her even more
It’s difficult not to laugh at her jokes
Or her wicked sense of humour
She’ll get you thinking, she never cries

Continue reading "Mud Woman" »


The Perpetual Tears of Hela

Tears of HelaKOIVI R BIWA

Once no cries were heard nor bitter tears shed,
This time when ancients and babes mingled calm,
Love and respect were their constant companions,
When no one stood bewildered by enmity or anger

But it happened that the tuneful war cries sounded,
Heard, known, accepted by all far and near,
Wigmen danced fluidly to the beat of the kundu,
Warrior elegance betrayed the combat ahead

Continue reading "The Perpetual Tears of Hela" »


They’re blowin’ smoke up our arses

BlowinMICHAEL DOM

Yesterday was International Poetry Day and Papua New Guinea’s unofficial poet laureate, Michael Dom, hauled out his trusted, rusted, almost busted Olivetti typewriter to do justice to the occasion with a salute to Bob Dylan’s renowned 1962 protest song, 'Blowin’ in the Wind' - KJ

How many books may a Maserati buy
Before it rusts in a shed
How many crooks make a government bad
Before it gets through our heads
Yes, and how many times may a prime minister lie
Before we know he's a thief
Those politicians are blowin’ smoke up our arses
They're blowin’ smoke right up our arses

Continue reading "They’re blowin’ smoke up our arses" »


God had a spear, his name was Sana

Michael Somare at Sogeri National High School  1963
Michael Somare at Sogeri National High School, 1963

TANYA ZERIGA ALONE

PORT MORESBY - A champion of freedom. A man of his time, 50,000 years in the making. A man destined to preserve the dignity of a free people: a thousand primitive tribes.

Innocent, bright eyed; we blinked in the Stone Age and happened in the Modern Era.

Our forefathers could not have prepared us for this. How could they?

Continue reading "God had a spear, his name was Sana" »


Sana - You Shone as the Morning Star

Leaders
Papua New Guinea's leaders in 1973 - Thomas Kavali, Michael Somare, Julius Chan and John Guise

CHIEF MARK TONAR

Chief Mark Tonar is a former kiap from the United Nauro Gor community in the Kundiawa-Gembogl area of Simbu. He is also a former Pangu Pati Simbu branch secretary (1982-1992). He has fond memories of meeting the late Grand Chief Somare during Pangu Party conventions – Sil Bolkin

Somare son of Somare
Sana son of Sana
Shone like a morning star

Continue reading "Sana - You Shone as the Morning Star" »


Everything changes but nothing changes

Time
Time (Loren Zemlicka)

PHILIP FITZPATRICK

TUMBY BAY - Some curious things happen when you get old. Among other things, time seems to speed up.

Now that I’m well into my seventies I’ve discovered that there are only 305 days in a year instead of the usual 365.

Another interesting thing is the overwhelming sense of déjà vu that I get when I check the news.

Continue reading "Everything changes but nothing changes" »


Sing me a sad song

SomareISO YAWI
| Poetry and Prose

Sing me a sad song
With a slow and soft kundu beat
Let no bird fly across the sky
Let no dog bark
Let no wind blow
Let no sun shine
I want only rain in day
And clouds at night
Let the Sepik river lie in sadness

Cry, you mountains
Mourn, you oceans
Weep, you forests
Sing your weeping songs
In eight hundred tongues
Paint your face with dirt
Let earth drink your tears
Eh, my heart bleeds

Continue reading "Sing me a sad song" »


Bik bus long maunten

Awagl mountain forestMICHAEL DOM

Tok Pisin translation of Mountain Forest by Jimmy Awagl, whose original English poem follows

Bikpela bus emi tutak tumas
I silip antap long nus bilong maunten
Klaut i pasim het bilong em
Na i ron namel insait long bus
Antap long lip na han bilong diwai

Lait bilong san emi pundaun ikam
Na i traim long sutim pinga igo insait
Long simuk iron antap long bik bus
Em nau ikirapim paialait olsem gol
Na kainkain kalakala i mekim ai long pas

Continue reading "Bik bus long maunten" »


Piku-Piku and Asukena – Part 3

Aishi Nokowano Gitehoma aka Papa Sii  Kotiyufa Village  Iufi-Iufa  2013
Aishi Nokowano Gitehoma aka Papa Sii,  Kotiyufa Village,  Iufi-Iufa,  2013

AS TOLD BY PAPA SII TO BAKA BINA

PORT MORESBY – Before I continue this story, I should let you know that it is an adaptation of a legend told by Papa Sii, whose image is at right

I have taken the words he told me and retold it using a contemporary overlay story of some bored village children.

Continue reading "Piku-Piku and Asukena – Part 3" »


Piku-Piku and Asukena – Part 2

Piku-Piku
Piku-Piku (black grasshopper)

AS TOLD BY PAPA SII TO BAKA BINA

LEGEND - Nana-Muni held the bottle out to the three girls and Sukare took it carefully between two fingers, took a quick look and passed it to Teniso.

Teniso was a tomboy and she turned the bottle upside down and let the asukena (mole grasshopper) scramble onto Sukare’s hands.

Sukare gave a scream and a wince and dropped the bottle. The asukena scurried off into the kaukau vines.

Continue reading "Piku-Piku and Asukena – Part 2" »


Piku-Piku and Asukena – Part 1

Asukena (mole cricket)
Asukena (mole cricket)

AS TOLD BY PAPA SII TO BAKA BINA

Baka Bina’s ninth book, Tales From Faif, is due for release before the end of December. It includes for extracts from the popular Cry Me a River series, two from the Pineapple series, four legends and three contemporary stories - KJ

A LEGEND - Alonaa was bored. He did not like the idea of babysitting the terror cousins –the three girls, Teniso, Sukare, Panikame, and two boys, Nana-Muni and Metty-Mahn, who were smaller than him.

The girls were terrors - more like terriers - who were too troublesome to look after.

Continue reading "Piku-Piku and Asukena – Part 1" »


Garo Matana, the blue-eyed child – Part 1

Blue-eyesISO YAWI
| A fictional story in three parts

Outside the small brown vavine numana (Papuan women’s house), just beyond the civilised world, it was a cold rainy evening.

Standing 20 metres high on the plateau of Rako, the vavine numana was set some way from the village of Babaka. Within, a young pregnant woman, Tarubo, laboured in the pangs of childbirth.

Continue reading "Garo Matana, the blue-eyed child – Part 1" »


Tonight the Moon Carries Her Umbrella

UmbrellaMICHAEL DOM
| Ples Singsing

Translations: Bahasa by Sylvana Sandi; Tok Pisin by Michael Dom; Hiri Motu by Gemona Konemamata

She rises late in the afternoon
And tonight she carries her umbrella
Smoky tendrils trail behind her glittering sarung kobaya
As she strolls across my universe
Far, far away she walks, alone
Where my arms cannot reach to embrace her

Continue reading "Tonight the Moon Carries Her Umbrella" »


When the rains fall red

RedRainBAKA BINA

PORT MORESBY - Darn the wind!

As she stepped out of the PMV bus outside the Port Moresby town police station, Matalina immediately knew she would be in trouble.

The gale-force wind, blowing fast and furious from Ela Beach over the isthmus to Fairfax Harbour, was sweeping the debris away and replacing it with its own rubbish of torn bushes and plants.

Continue reading "When the rains fall red" »