Sitting on my swing chair in my flower garden looking out to sea,is my last memory of my last day in my home city Port Moresby,,or of the place that once upon a time was my city,,IS,WAS,LONG AGO,,I go to create in the depths of my soul,,Or do I??Why,exactly,For what Reason do i go??Nonetheless,I go,I went..But always,at my back,I hear,I see,I smell,that land Port Moresby,,"Where theres magnificent high rise buildings right next to large shanty towns,,Where crime is rampant,yet there are a few good Samaritans,,Where the roads are painted red,not by blood spilt,but by betelnut spittle,Where soo many different shades of black,brown and fair skinned people all live,,newcomers wonder if all the people around the world have migrated here,BUT NO,it is us PNGns from her bossom,the highlands to the coast to the islands,,having flocked here..A million reasons why each of us is here in this city,,Maybe to make a living,,perhaps to make a name for ourselves,,for whatever reason we have,,be it good or bad,,Still the bright lights of Port Moresby keep on beckoning..And yet,,some of us must live this city of ours,,My Home,My City,,PORT MORESBY...
Posted on: Thu, 18 Jul 2013 10:12:19 +0000
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015