DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION - Delisa woke with a start. It was The Old Man calling. “Good morning, Delisa, how was last night?” he teased.

“It was really good until you spoilt it for me.”

“How?” The Old Man feigned surprise.

DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION – The ceremony over and the photographs taken, The Old Man and Delisa decided to skip the refreshments for the new nursing graduates and drive straight from Lae to Bumbu village where a big mumu was sizzling amidst hot stones.

The family trooped to the three vehicles. Delisa sat in the backseat while, as protocol dictated, her aunt’s husband sat in the front seat with The Old Man.

RICHARD HAUSER

With skin like burnished copper parchment
this slim Eurasian lady seems in charge.
She emerges from the shadows of the shelves
and the pages of a spy yarn, now at large.

Her manner firm, attesting ownership,
insisting that I do it by the book
and sterilise my suspect Covid hands
lest I taint her tidy tomes as I look.

DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION - Early on the morning of the graduation, The Old Man drove from Lae International Hotel to Bumbu village to finalise arrangements for the festivities.

He had asked Japheth to call Delisa to pass on the message that he and Japheth, together with her siblings, would come to the graduation.

DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION – When Delisa read the text message from The Old Man, she was stunned.

‘I have to come to your graduation as this is the fruit of my efforts and your own commitment to your studies,’ the crucial line had said. The Old Man would be there. He would come to her graduation.

DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION - The Old Man was glad, the nursing college graduation was only two weeks away and the three new houses had been completed in record time.

The house built for Japheth had three bedrooms, and was fully furnished. It had power and water connected complete with Tuffa storage tanks.

DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION - The Old Man had never imagined his life would end up like this when he and Rosemary agreed to help Delisa.

But now he had decided to marry this young woman, just a girl to him, late in life when the sun was setting.

Richard Hauser - amongst many other attributes, an urban hunter

KEITH JACKSON

NOOSA - It is only recently that I have been introduced to the poetry of Richard Hauser; it's poetry that I admire a great deal.

So much so that I felt compelled to share his writing, especially with those many poets of Papua New Guinea who frequently appear in these columns.

DANIEL KUMBON

FICTION - Delisa was convinced the Old Man would accept her into his now empty life if he knew the real story behind her father.

Her father was not dead, as had been her original invention. She felt it was time to tell the whole truth.

She wanted to avoid disharmony and embarrassment later when they lived together. For Delisa it was ‘when’, not ‘if’.

RAYMOND SIGIMET

FICTION - I heard the knocking and a call around six just as I was preparing notes for tomorrow’s sermon.

I knew it was Pita, the son of the parish chairman, Mathias. Occasionally he’s one of the minstrels at my Sunday mass.

The way he was rapping on the porch railing and calling out, I figured something must be up.

DUNCAN GABI

FICTION - It was just two weeks before the Grade 10 national exams and everyone was freaking out, especially those like me who weren’t prepared.

Some students collected as many notes as possible and left school three weeks before the exams to study at home.

RAYMOND SIGIMET

FICTION - I was looking through patient admission records before my evening ten o'clock ward rounds when a vehicle roared into sight.

Its emergency blinkers flashed brightly on the single cabin utility and the engine overrevved as it screeched to a halt.

STEPHANIE ALOIS

So I’ve said nothing, nothing at all
about our Celest. Maybe you heard?
My sister’s such a disappointment.
She goes off to school each day
in hope of a future bright and bold,
Then comes home full of complaint
about clothes, stationery, friends, money.

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.

KOIVI 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!

HON SIMON PENTANU MP
| Facebook

For every day I spend confined in isolation
the flowers outdoor grow and glow more beautiful
and extend nearer and nearer to me

I think they are going to stick it out with me
until the last day when I’m primed and paroled
out of isolation indoors into open sunshine

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

MAJELLA DIULEN SOALILI

A tribute to the Grand Chief
Sir Michael Thomas Somare

In the midst of the battlefield
Stood a Hero
Who had a heart of Gold and
A mind full of dreams.

He fought without fear.
But with the stoutest
Of weapons: Confidence, Courage
and such great Determination

RAYMOND SIGIMET

The mountain stream is young and sometimes reckless
From a tiny trickle, vexed and irritated, looks for outlet

After the rainbow when the storm rests up on the hills
He rushes down ravines and gullies, his fist full of water

This irate adolescent behind cover of the storm and bush
Surges down knocking and swiping at rocks, soil and roots

KOIVI 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

Mathias Kauage - Independence celebration 4,  1975  (National Gallery of Australia)

MICHAEL DOM

Bik nem lidasip 

Papa bilong yu 
Emi gat bikpela nem turu
Long olgeta hap ples mi raun
Mi ken i harim ol manmeri 
Litimapim nem bilong em
Taim oli toktok long ol kainkain wok 
Emi bin mekim long en

MICHAEL 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

GEMBA RAYMOND DEWANE

Dedicated to Lady Veronica Somare

I could have found a man in a million
But faith has found me millions in a man
I have no idea what was in your mind
I just kept faith in your constant gravity
You raised your country, I raised your family
Sana, now I understand your dream

RAYMOND SIGIMET

I came from my father’s spear 
This spear came down generations
He alone could hold this spear
From his father and father’s father

As a man amongst his people
His spear gave me name and place 
This spear fought during times of war
This spear talked in times of peace

RAYMOND SIGIMET

Once I heard the fire talk
He talked in my lifetime
This grand man in the fire
That coughed and crackled

His voice lit up the dark
While embers danced the night
His voice in the leaping flames
That could be seen from afar

I listened into the night
For I was mesmerised
I put in more tinder wood
And I sat there and listened

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?

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

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.

JOSEPH TAMBURE

PNG mourns its Grand Chief
An East Sepik man
Devoted to family
A peace loving man
With wisdom unchallenged

PNG mourns its Grand Chief

As good leaders do, he fought
With his brothers bonded as one
People from mountains, swamps, seas
Though some were against
Leaders don’t surrender to frailty

ISO 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

STEPHANIE ALOIS

Born in the 1930’s
The world experiencing great depression
A famine in Russia killing millions
A great war was coming our way
Papua New Guinea a colony
Conquered, colonised, confused

MICHAEL 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

WARDLEY BARRY

Her head hung low, her eyes sunk back, too tired
to greet her own son. His dad had retired

After hours of dragging coffee bags
across potholes of promises. Three bags

Were lost to the weather, two to thieves and
several others just fell through his hand.

DAVID KASEI WAPAR

That’s what a bullet is;
It does not discriminate.
With a little ‘click’
And a life, it terminates

It’s a ‘little devil’
That sets people apart
Causing immeasurable trouble
Breaking many hearts.

SAMUEL LUCAS KAFUGILI

Walking on two legs, human legs,
Legs that are legs, not robot legs

Walking on two legs, poised on two legs,
Two feet have consumed a thousand miles

SAMUEL LUCAS KAFUGILI

Fear is a toxin,
A venom that infests,
shutting out enrichment,
Causing huge ill

Fear is a toxin,
Like Halloween witches
compromising courage,
Shutting out light

Hiri Hanenamo emi danis, Hiri Moale Festival, 2014 (Stella Blog)

MICHAEL DOM

This new poem in Tok Pisin and English uses the primaquatrain poetic form which I have invented. It is meant for original composition in Tok Pisin and seems to work well that way for me - MTD

Eh, meri nambis ia
Longpela garas bilong yu
Emi tanim ai bilong mi
Na tromoi lewa olsem purpur

DUNCAN GABI
| My Land, My Country

MADANG - I joined the long queue outside BSP bank in Goroka at around something to 12 to pick up my long overdue bank card.

I had lodged an application for a new bank card a month ago. About two weeks ago, thinking my card was ready, I went to pick it up.

PHILIP FITZPATRICK

TUMBY BAY - The old man looked down at the rippled and translucent skin on the back of his hand.

He slowly closed his fist but that just accentuated the brown blotches and spindly blue veins.

When he eventually lifted his eyes be became aware of being watched from the end of his bed.

SIMON DAVIDSON

When suns setting rays,
Touched western horizon,
The ev’n skies lit up,
And burned as with flames.

I set my eyes transfixed,
At the evenings fireworks,
At the transient glory,
Oblivious to Covid-19’s rage.

A G SATORI

Mama, I can't come home for Christmas. I love you and miss you still. I want to say Merry Christmas in person but can't.

But I know where you will be each day.  We had done this together so many times - three days before Christmas service.

JIMMY AWAGL

The tropical rainforest
Stretching up the slope
Tree tops shrouded in cloud
Offering a misty canopy
Drifting through the leaves

The sun’s descending rays
Spreading their radiant fingers
Touching the hovering vapour
Flaring before us in a golden spray
Blinding our eyes in a rainbow spectrum

JIMMY AWAGL

Shut down
Lock down

Hold on for dear life
Got to live this life

Shut down the operation
Government needs cooperation

JIMMY AWAGL

An invisible tremor shakes the earth
as an enemy crosses our paths

Like a silent wind uprooting our lives
and bearing the curse of disease

Small but forceful it penetrates
wherever it lands, crushing lungs,

A mysterious enemy invading all
around the globe, an invisible smoke

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.

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.

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.

JIMMY AWAGL

The calm breeze from the sea waves
Moves peacefully to the shore
Unsettles the tender palm leaves
Offers a sense of calmness, like
the grass-skirts of Papuan girls

The aroma of this gentle breeze
Moves sweetly across the lonely beach
As the soft sand squishes beneath my feet
Creating gentle puffs of crystal dust
Gathered by the breeze and taken where

Lake Murray dawn PNG (Ian-Lloyd-Neubauer)

JIMMY AWAGL

Heavenly lights subside in the sky
As the glow of the flame arrives
Kissing the soft dew settled on leaves
As the beauty of a new day appears

Observe this time passing your eyes
This time that dictates your life
Either to rise or fall; succeed or fail
It’s the time flame that dominates earth

JIMMY AWAGL

The dream is bitter
Not really better
than days gone by

I walked your way
To be close to your heart
but it was closed to me

The dream is a fairytale
Your love was legendary
until it all turned to clay