Port Moresby

Mountains meet the Coral Sea,
Port Moresby stands, wild and free.
Contrasts, old and new,
The tribal beats and engines brew.

Betel nut stains on market floors,
As high-rises reach for tropic skores.
Motu Koitabu whisper ancient lore,
While expats chase fortunes galore.

Hiri Moale festivals paint the streets,
With feathers, drums, and dancing feet.
Koki Market’s pungent air,
Mingles fish and fruits so rare.

Parliament Haus, a conch-shell dream,
Watches o’er this urban stream.
Where Ela Beach meets concrete sprawl,
A thousand stories rise and fall.

In shadows of the Owen Stanley Range,
A city grows, both familiar and strange.
Port Moresby, Papua’s beating heart,
Where past and future never part.