Dreams of a place

Our political leaders fight for power while the little people continue to suffer. Our suffering seem endless but certainly our dreams have not expired and will give us the strength to walk on. How we get to where we want to go and what kind of PNG we want to see then is in our dreams and no one can steal it. So don't give up! Tireless hand (Time) continues and it is up to us to become agents for change, even if it means to suffer as we make our way slowly to that destination/PNG we would like to have.
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Did the play of mighty tongues,
Harass your wretched heart once,
Twice, then more than many times;
Then your dream haunts,
While, away tireless hand chimes?
  
Did the play of mighty tongues,
Your dream on a journey forces,
When the storms were unkind;
Then send it on unplanned courses,
On many a different wind?

I too have a heart broken,
With a dream restless and old;
That yearns to journey to a place,
Gentle whispers, us have told
Is full of wondrous grace.

Will you join me on a journey to this
Noble place without a name;
A name you and I would give,
While we play our own game
And live and let live?

But I can't promise a smooth trip;
Our dreams, our wrath will keep,
And our hearts will find a way.
We may all the way creep,
But surely we will not stray.

Let the rhythm of our hearts,
And song of a place without name,
Deliver us strength to sweat.
Getting there is our noble aim
And this we will not regret. 

Hey, did I see a flicker in your heart,
Through holes in the wretched one?
The flicker in my heart dance,
And though there’ll be no sun,
We surely will make our advance.

A place without name we seek;
We must not be meek;
A place without name we seek;
We must no be weak?
A place without name we seek.

I watched on the shore.

I watched as waves rushed, one after

the other to the shore as if to

escape from a prison deep and vast.

Breaking their anger and emptying

their frustrations in loud confusions.

Their frustrations of continuous

imprisonment in this vicious

cycle day and night.

Those who journeyed before, encouraged

by new wind journey again and again

on tired crests and troughs.

To together break their anger and

empty their frustrations.

What manner of respite would redeem

them from this stranglehold of the

ocean so deep and vast.

Not even the calmest of breeze

caressing the ocean's surface nor a

beautiful clear blue sky is appeasing.

To escape from deep and vast ocean

will take forever which none have.

And they continue day and night to

break their anger and empty their

frustrations on the shores where

idle and hardened rocks watch.

Leeches

This is a poem about those who steal from the public purse, go away and squander the money, then return to steal again; not even considering the impacts of their actions. Their are many out there.


Leeches! O leeches!
How they appear so placid;
Such smooth and idle things.

How they lay in wait, then
Spring upon them that wantonly walk,
Then coldly embrace.

Then suck! O they suck!
How they suck the life – the life!
And suck! And suck!

Full! they fade into seeming oblivion,
Then again how they appear innocent.
Such smooth and idle things.

They hear not cries, nor see tears,
But suck! O suck is all they know.

And when cries reach the sky above,
Would they hear and retreat?
These smooth and idles things!

Again they suck! such smooth
And idle things. How they
Appear so placid!

SONS OF PAPUA NEW GUINEA

How they've increased who troubled her!
And gaily laughed and danced on despair!
Over mountains, vales & seas how they sing
Of menaces more together they will bring.
Many are her sons who’ve taken up arms
To fight & protect her worthy charms
In open & in secret. With willing blood!
Her worthy son in embrace will ever flood
Every portal of they who court doom.
O how they strategise from a prickly gloom!
For respite her worthy sons will ever seek.
Yes! No help may come; they're not meek.

This poem was first published in the Writers' Forum of the National Weekender  then on asopa.typepad.com