I enjoyed this sequence a lot, Colin.
bw
SallyE

on 21/2/03 6:45 pm, Colin dewar at [log in to unmask] wrote:

> Artur's poem on the Patutiva Makkit has stimulated me to pull this one out
> from a very low drawer. I won't apologise for the deficiencies in technique
> as I had only been writing poems for a few months then. On the other hand it
> was before I had developed any funny ideas about what poetry should or
> shouldn't be or before I became sceptical about people's motives, in any
> country. Was I ever that young? It's an irony-free zone.
> 
> I had always liked the paintings of Gauguin but I liked them more after I
> had been to this place.
> 
> (I intend to remove upper case from the beginning of lines.)
> 
> TO THE PEOPLE OF PAPUA NEW GUINEA THAT I MET AT ONE MOMENT IN THEIR HISTORY.
> 
> Arrival
> 
> On tropic hill top
> I sit
> With warm and sunlit sea
> All around.
> 
> Bright brown faces:
> Children following, laughing,
> So vividly
> I cannot yet believe it true.
> 
> I watch surprised
> The leather-heeled, monkey-palmed
> Grandmothers
> Climb high as birds in palm or tulip tree.
> 
> Here the people live
> Clamour loud, wave strong,
> Not watered down
> By other ways.
> 
> A Sulphur Crested Cockatoo wings past,
> Not glanced once:
> Emblem of paradise
> Too familiar.
> 
> Not by any road
> Can body leave this isolated place,
> And yet your lucid gaze
> Reflects no prison cell.
> 
> No seasons here;
> All come together
> In one unending
> Some time tomorrow.
> 
> ......................................................
> 
> 
> 
> Images
> 
> Already,
> Long before
> I leave this place
> I have a longing to be back.
> 
> As I lie at night
> Images return to me,
> The day of spear and sparkle,
> Changing slowly into dreams.
> 
> Today I gathered shells,
> Feet swept as I walked in the surf,
> So rapt
> I quite forgot myself.
> 
> Ocean warmth
> Whose water is forgetfulness,
> Whose salt
> Shall drown our tears.
> 
> By bliss-giving waves
> Buffeted in the surf I sit,
> Each blast
> A cleansing cataclysm.
> 
> I swam for miles today
> Reciting lines of long dead men;
> Funny how they seem to fit
> This palmy, unseen realm.
> 
> Here on the sun-warmed sand,
> A happy cradle found,
> I lie as rocks and waves have lain
> Before all life began.
> 
> Days are healing here.
> The green shoots grow
> Around my heart
> As if planted long ago.
> 
> 
> ....................................................
> 
> 
> Smiles
> 
> In this sunlit world
> People wave hello,
> No matter whom they meet,
> So like satire at first.
> 
> It is because
> I do not know what to say
> For gifts in kindness
> That I smile quietly.
> 
> It is as if
> You have not heard
> Of people
> Failing to be kind.
> 
> I grieve to tell
> Of world's beyond your world.
> The tale that you ask for
> Is beautiful and sad.
> 
> Not like your dreams
> My world,
> No more than yours
> Mine.
> 
> If outside life
> Is quite so good,
> What is it that we seek
> On shores like these?
> 
> You have all the time in the world
> And slowly move in short-lived years.
> My amble
> For you is race along.
> 
> So much more restful than I have known.
> Every day I work here
> Is like a Saturday
> At home.
> 
> You are mad about fires
> And caper round the burning wood,
> Its hot dancing flame
> All the heart desires.
> 
> The beauty of your world
> Is like the cricket sound:
> Never longed for,
> Never heard.
> 
> .....................................
> 
> Innocence
> 
> You helped me gather shells
> As we walked on sun-held shore
> And neither thought or cared
> The reason why.
> 
> You showed me how to fish,
> Never knowing
> How I hunted joy
> With net and spear.
> 
> All around you laughed and smiled,
> The reason never known,
> The question
> Without answer.
> 
> Shadow swift
> You slip between the trees,
> Much as people have run
> On first creation.
> 
> Eve consecrate
> Finds herself alone
> Within the yam
> And taro garden.
> 
> Some time
> You will want more
> And I lament the day;
> Forbidden fruit that world.
> 
> 
> .............................................
> 
> 
> Experience
> 
> Your footstep in the sand and mine
> Erased together
> By waves
> That sweep and sweep again.
> 
> Elder brother writhes
> When the sore place is cut.
> Little brother watches calmly by the table,
> Chewing cau cau*.
> 
> I see you cut awake
> And still you stay.
> You take for granted
> So much pain.
> 
> Never stops laughing,
> My young friend with the ulcerated foot,
> Who limps along and smiles,
> Who will not stay behind.
> 
> With unrequested love I am trusted on the shore,
> Your children
> Untaught to fear the stranger's voice,
> The thought absurd.
> 
> Your child
> Drags a two foot knife,
> Perfectly at home
> In a hard  world.
> 
> Beside you
> I feel laden with belongings
> And of a sudden wish
> To throw them to the waves.
> 
> It is called a watch
> This false friend that you touch,
> You who only need the heart's time
> To measure out the day.
> 
> *sweet potato
> 
> 
> .......................................................
> 
> Religion
> 
> Wanting more you move
> To mission church from forest green
> With never Eden here or there
> Or in between.
> 
> Your village, one people,
> You say.
> Your people, one blood
> -One blood, one mind.
> 
> Your need or greed for more
> The missionaries slake
> And in giving,
> Take.
> 
> Your need for health or school they may control.
> You cannot have
> Until you give
> Your soul.
> 
> Not brought by church
> This simple pleasure,
> Your hard and happy life
> Was always there.
> 
> They have made you ashamed of your sensuality
> And bare skin a disease
> To be concealed;
> They have brought to you their second fall.
> 
> And would you be better off
> In idol worship
> Or hunting heads?
> Oh I don't know.
> 
> The missionaries
> Have come to save your souls they say,
> But clear to tell
> That you have rescued theirs.
> 
> Overheard
> The missionaries spoke hate of me behind my back,
> Each bitter word falling empty and vain
> In this warm, bright land.
> 
> Today the children don't come.
> I amble more
> And wonder if the word is on;
> Impossible to tell.
> 
> .....................................................
> 
> 
> Conservation
> 
> Funny how you kill
> Without a thought
> This creature
> That feeds my curiosity.
> 
> Funny how
> You only know as food
> This wonderful animal
> Whose life tale I unfold.
> 
> So new here
> You do not know how it lasts,
> The bottle thrown
> That bites the floor of the jungle.
> 
> You think the jungle huge,
> Too big for any axe.
> A tiny twig is all it is,
> To be outlasted by the grass.
> 
> You do not understand
> The heart's need for this dark leafy place,
> So soon I fear
> To fall before the foreign scythe.
> 
> For the moment this land
> Any need provides,
> But numbers grow and grow
> Unto the hungry hordes outside.
> 
> 
> ........................................................
> 
> The future
> 
> Go to your longed for modern world,
> But remember always
> That people only dream
> Of shores like these.
> 
> The people here await with joy
> The road to link with other lands.
> Is it thought or fancy
> That makes me shed a tear or two?
> 
> Sometimes copied too precisely
> These outside ways,
> As if ashamed
> Of recent forest life.
> 
> Chatting after market
> You do not feel it closer come and closer come,
> The shops and crime
> And walls of brick to blank the sun.
> 
> The last place like this,
> They say,
> That I help spoil
> By being.
> 
> Bow and arrow,
> Bird and taro;
> Shrinking island unaware
> They do not use them everywhere.
> 
> Spirits, devils
> In the trees
> Cannot survive
> The changing breeze.
> 
> Hill top
> To the hill top seen
> But not the swamp land
> In between.
> 
> Mud and wound,
> Bite and sore,
> A shame on me
> To wish it more.
> 
> One day, not near or far
> There will be trouble in this land,
> But now we walk beside the sea,
> Kick pebbles in the sand.
> 
> 
> ...................................................
> 
> The natural man
> 
> The people of your highlands
> Are harsh I'm told
> Amid the rugged hills
> And vaporous cold.
> 
> Strange to see you
> Laugh and leave
> The game or gift
> Long cherished.
> 
> Slashing down with big steel blade,
> Brother teasing younger brother.
> Smiling Mama scolds the younger,
> "He's going to cut you."
> 
> In this land
> No pun or simile will do.
> To raise a laugh
> I relate a horrible accident.
> 
> On television
> The children see
> Famine in Ethiopia.
> They crease themselves laughing.
> 
> One people - one blood, and that is why
> That should a driver accidentally crash
> For your relative who died
> You kill his son or nephew.
> 
> The man I see can use a pen or car with ease
> But in his garden stand
> Unopened tins, suspended packets
> To bring the white man's magic.
> 
> By the beach
> I see the banker stripped true
> To dive and dive again
> In search of fish.
> 
> Like a free-flowing stream,
> Your feelings:
> You beat each other up,
> As if for fun.
> 
> I ask for way or distance
> And leave without an answer
> As if you cannot say
> How to measure out the day.
> 
> You smash a head or hold a hand
> So unselfconsciously;
> I cannot find that hidden land.
> I cannot understand.
> 
> Marital tiff:
> He cuts her face with a machete.
> She gets him back
> With a half brick.
> 
> At the hospital
> There is the woman crushed by a falling tree.
> She has hiked in over three days
> With a broken pelvis.
> 
> Broken glass on the floor.
> "Look out", I cry
> To the bare foot man,
> But he has already crossed the shards without care.
> 
> The patient with TB walks out at lunch time
> And takes his emaciated frame
> To the top of the kulai* tree.
> Ill or not, for him it is the same.
> 
> High above the river gorge
> The huge tree hangs;
> On the highest branch a ribbon,
> Tied by children.
> 
> Quite without décor
> This rough high land
> Where people bang together
> Like blocks of wood.
> 
> Very like a child's these ways,
> Innocent, untamed;
> Id without super ego,
> Is it Peter Pan or Caliban?
> 
> Is it this that I am,
> These roots the life in me,
> This unmoulded energy
> The stuff of man?
> 
> What shall I say?
> Carefree but brutal, generous and cruel.
> Hard to summarise the natural man;
> Spontaneously present in every sense.
> 
> *coconut
> 
> .........................................
> 
> Hidden world
> 
> Something old, unspoken,
> The animal in man,
> I glimpse
> Within your strong and guileless gaze.
> 
> Not mine
> Your soul.
> More unalike than I had guessed
> That deep, dark continent.
> 
> Not mine your eyes
> That see where I do not
> The spirits running in the wind,
> The devil-peopled trees.
> 
> Always far that world;
> Unknown to me
> The world of myth and magic
> That you call home.
> 
> Veneer only
> Western ways and Western thought;
> Yet to soak through
> That shady, hidden world.
> 
> You still believe in spirits
> So beautifully, so forcefully
> That the notion of a controlled trial
> Stays stuck on my tongue.
> 
> What ancient, powerful shapes
> Do you see within the trees,
> Where I can only tell
> Of light and leaf?
> 
> Moments pass you never reached for.
> Are they never felt,
> These minions of eternity,
> Or always known?
> 
> It is as if you do not use ideas
> To understand events;
> False sounds to you
> That convey no reality.
> 
> Openness, simplicity
> Deceived me truly;
> Never near that world
> Behind your cheerful smile.
> 
> Mystery world
> My finger cannot trace
> Beyond the love of life
> And simple grace.
> 
> Weeks
> After coming here
> It is only now
> That I have left home.
> 
> Bearing gifts of fruit
>> From my trip to the hills
> I receive not one word of gratitude.
> Gifts here are just the way it's meant to be.
> 
> Gifts you gave to me
> Might be returned in kind or double measure;
> Uncalculated, unasked for,
> But expected nonetheless.
> 
> 
> .....................................................
> 
> On an island
> 
> The journey on the waves I see still,
> You and I
> Poised like supple statues,
> Canoe-bound where we will.
> 
> We paddle on the sea
> On hills of gleaming waves,
> By diving bird and fish beheld;
> All brilliant as the dawn sky.
> 
> What cost
> But a smile
> To ferry me across
> To paradise?
> 
> Through the surf,
> Upon the shimmering island,
> Here I stand,
> Dazzled by the birds and sun swept sand.
> 
> How I loved that time
> As we sat on the warm, palmy isle
> With the fish flashing like jewels
> In the pool.
> 
> So far away was I
>> From old imperfect things
> That I for a lifetime forgot
> My own centrality.
> 
> Not soft at all
> The rocks of this hazy, heavenly isle.
> They bruise and cut;
> They remind me of mortality.
> 
> Day long engrossed,
> Yet free as gliding gulls,
> You hunt for fish
> Along the flashing reef.
> 
> I swim back alone,
> Through wave and tide,
> I who cannot long know
> Enchanted isle.
> 
> The day is done;
> Memory alone denies its passing.
> Ever in the grotto shall we run,
> With darting lizard, sand and sun.
> 
> .....................................................
> 
> River journey
> 
> Dark brown liquid of life
> Oozes serpentine
> Its watery way
> As the people drink, as the shadows play.
> 
> Yes it is dread that I feel
> On river journey inwards,
> Ever wilder, ever darker
> To the heart of things.
> 
> Strange the way danger
> Sharpens the mind,
> Electrifies it with links
> To leaf and twig and sound.
> 
> Strange the way danger
> Stupefies the mind,
> Dissolves away
> The abstract world of life and time.
> 
> Vicious youths come round
> Meaning me some harm.
> They do not think it,
> But I'll take a couple down.
> 
> When a village youth appears
> The others leave.
> He means to assist
> Any who venture here.
> 
> Changes how we act,
> Changes how we are, this land,
> The mind in me languishes
> Quite redefined.
> 
> In so short a time
> I have come to love this strange, new thing,
> The day that begins
> Without knowledge of its ending.
> 
> ...................................................
> 
> Mountain journey
> 
> No I do not need
> A guide or luggage bearer.
> It is my wish
> To go alone here.
> 
> No it will not take three days
> Or a week.
> I will sleep on the top
> Tonight.
> 
> It as if I shed my skin,
> Step ever higher and higher
> In the thin cool air,
> Into a reawakening clearness.
> 
> Of all the things I did here
> The only thing that surprised you
> Was the time I slept
> With the frost in my hair.
> 
> There are no birds, no plants, no people,
> Only sky and rocks at the top.
> It is the summit of my life:
> Never shall I be so strong again.
> 
> They are all gone
> The brown people, the sea, my home.
> I alone am in this abstract world
> Of air and stone.
> 
> It is one of the clearest  times in my life,
> Lying on this highest place
> With the moon vaster than ever in the void,
> Glinting on the waves of ice.
> 
> I am above
> An endless silver sea of cloud.
> Far below in the valleys
> The life I left behind.
> 
> High in the sky
> The moon makes more bright than ice
> The level domes of cloud,
> That rise like pavings to eternal life.
> 
> I cannot get away from the moon.
> Wherever I go
> I am companioned
> By that frozen song.
> 
> I breakfast on banana and avocado
> With the sun awakening the new day,
> In this place
> Where I cannot stay.
> 
> The air is uncomfortably thin.
> My chest strains and my head spins.
> Umbilical life-line to Earth
> Draws me down to the ground.
> 
> Back below a family takes me in
> With strange generosity.
> They do not think it,
> But I shall remember them.
> 
> .....................................
> 
> Departure
> 
> In colder climes, in times to come
> How may I long
> For one hot leaf
>> From this great steaming jungle.
> 
> They symbolise different things here,
> The sun not strength but merciless life,
> The trees not calm but quite indifferent;
> No hard, real world these waters, but natal waves.
> 
> Only the moon is still,
> In this or any other clime,
> And on the sea sheds glimmering, glittering light
> As though to worlds beyond my sight.
> 
> Never to come again
> These palms and stars and the warm wind,
> And yet I feel resigned unto the end of time,
> Unto the fading of this eve.
> 
> 
> Elective.   P.N.G. September/October  87
> 
> My apologies to any Christian readers who may take some of the comments
> above as political statement. It was never intended. What had upset the
> mssionaries was that I didn't attend church. One had said, "church is at 9"
> and I had replied innocently "I'll bear it in mind". I knew that they hated
> me for it because they were so impatient to say so that they didn't wait
> until I was out of earshot. Thank goodness that I never went around
> disputing the missionaries point of view with the locals, though. The local
> people stood on the edge of an abyss and I would not want to be the one to
> determine how they would fall into the modern world.