This poem describes a very visceral experience I had to reconcile how fragile my own stage of privilege was. The poem captures a hypothetical where a lady notices poverty, between the alleyways, the exact moment her own privilege is realized, causing her to scurry away in guilt. Alleyways, for me, represent a darker side to the urban environments - as places where things happen in the shadows. It occupies a particular space within popular urban colloquialism as being dark and seedy.
Category: Prose and Poetry
#72 Poetry – For her.
I initially wrote this poem with a friend of mine who was suddenly admitted to hospital. It evolved as a co-written poem and, indeed it still is. I drew from her experience. She allowed herself to be vulnerable.
#70: (Rain)Drops of Anxiety
Pitter-patter, on roof tops. Rain drops, in down pipes. Pitters of patters slipping, falling. Violent in motion, rushing, gushing, into alleyways - be banks, on streets. Carry raindrops, to drain pipes. Labourious is torrent - be rivers, like Styx. Keep tame, my wild heart. The memory of pitters of patters. The violence of wild water, … Continue reading #70: (Rain)Drops of Anxiety
#68 Tok Pisin Poetry: Where Have All The Bataflais Gone?
Where Have All The Bataflais Gone? Lo’ citi* ol igat olgeta samting Lo’ citi ol i no sot lo wanpla samting Igat rot, igat wara, igat kapa haus Igat lo, igat stoa,igat haus sik na skul Pulim ol man meri i lusim bus giraun ikam Pulim ol ikam sindaun lo' bikples taun Na lusim ol … Continue reading #68 Tok Pisin Poetry: Where Have All The Bataflais Gone?
#65 Poem- Empty Streets
Empty streets, When a tower rises. Empty Streets Where towers rise. Cast tall shadow Upon tall shadows. Hiding reasons from Reasons being. Taking space; Making of empty. Void of place. The streets are empty. -Hans Lee
#63: Walking the Tropics is not at all pleasant.
I’ll enjoy driving my car in the tropics, even through I know it will be the death of me. At least I can get from my deathbed in the suburbs to the work fields without breaking a sweat while I am still alive.
#59. Right To The City
A controversial poem I wrote as areflective piece challenging my own place in embedding inequalities in PNG cities. Whether we acknowledge it or not, the urban elite merely just "being" are creators of inequality.
#55: Rusty’s Buai Stains and Pineapples
An experimentation in perspective writing for me. I use my memory of Cairns' Rusty's market as the location and some deep questions about the future of the PNG diaspora to piece together the narrative with three characters named Bella, Roger and Kiri.
#52: Rats in the Mall
Here I reflect on an urban trend that is emerging inside PNGs first recognised mall in Port Moresby. It is birthing mall culture and with it, the dreaded Mallrat.
#51: Prose- Empty Steel Drums Make A Lot Of Noise
In my more contemplative years, I learned of the phrase "empty drums made a lot of noise". Deaf, I was at the time, a bit too young to understand but I still hear it now. Those solemn words still echo through the chambers of my memory. Sometimes they'd take the voice of Mr Manjawi, our … Continue reading #51: Prose- Empty Steel Drums Make A Lot Of Noise