PrimeloreVerse: A Fortnightly Global Literary Journey | Vol. 04.

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01.
Poem: “BETWEEN THE LINES”
Poet: Vo Thi Nhu Mai
From: Australia
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

A lonely horse beside the sea
A fading dream that calls to me
An empty room, a waiting train
A single heart that holds its pain

Tell me a story, soft and slow
Of things we lose and never know
Between the lines, beneath the sky
A thousand words that drifting by

Tell me a story and let it stay
A little bird that finds its way
Half truth, half dream, the words remain
And teach our hearts to love again
©® Vo Thi Nhu Mai



02.
Poem: “soon the world “
Poet: Mary Garde
From: Canada
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

poem: soon the world poet: mkap garde will look different
the older population
will be gone
noone will remember
what it was like back then

the younger generation
have ideas never
thought before
will they be an improvement

we will learn new ways to be
some things we had
will be missed
will the family exist
what will happen
to devotion
can it be understood

when its those
who have no training
with discipline
will they be able
to rule the world
little children are
starving everywhere
will the new generation take care and improve
conditions for poor people
or will they be worse than
these tyrants are
©® mkap garde



03.
Poem: “Peace for you”
Poet: Afroza Jesmine
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

It is peace for you;
When you read a peace full love story.

It is peace for you;
When you feel you are the main person of
any happy moment.

It is peace for you;
When you smile with your dearest one.

It is peace for you;
When you have done a best work
In the world.

It is peace for you;
When you achieve a best prize.

It is peace for you;
When somebody can smile for your work.

It is peace for you;
When your world will never dark for your work

It is peace for you;
When the sky is always smile with bright stars.
©® Afroza Jesmine.



04.
Poem: “THE WORLD I WANDER THROUGH”
Poet: Mustafa Naci ÖZER
From: Türkiye.
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

A garden made of heaven, with roses blooming bright,
A fountain of love and friendship, where words bring pure delight.
An endless sea of beauty, reflected in the eyes,
The wondrous world I wander through, beneath the endless skies…
A gentle melody that lingers in my ears,
A tender touch upon my skin that drives away my fears.
A sweet and lovely fragrance that rises in the air,
The wondrous world I wander through, a dream beyond compare…
A winding road that stretches far, a path that leads away,
A hidden tale that takes me on, where dreams and feelings stay.
An innocent and lovely face that fills my heart with light,
The wondrous world I wander through, so beautiful and bright…
A sacred love that gently flows and settles in the heart,
A beautiful feeling written deep within the soul from the start.
A love that stays throughout my life, forever to remain,
The wondrous world I wander through, my joy, my love, my flame…
©® Mustafa Naci ÖZER



05.
Poem: “Mama”
Poet: Eva Petropoylou Lianoy
From: Greece
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Mama
Mother is the doctor for any sickness
Mama is the country that everyone loves
without conquering
Mama is joy and sorrow Mama the power
Mama the forgiveness
One word was created by God To forgive people
Say it every day
Call her if they put chains on you
To sweeten it the wound
To bring peace
My mom, you’re unique
You never told them you were upset…
With gold I will cherish you
Chosen person
I crown you, My mother
My sun
My compass
©® Eva Petropoylou Lianoy



06.
Poem: “”
Poet: Shaip Z. Zeqiri
From: Albania
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Title: To Write or Not to Write
Now is difficult to know what is true and what is falce:
We express wishes and our dreams are just emotions,
Governments offer no solutions…
We see protests and revolts.
But we are not anymore able to understand what is falce and what is true,
We just have to continue:
Again better to write and trying to anderstand,
How long this situation is going to stand!
We just hope as soon as possible something can changa,
Really it is ununderstandable for our age.
©® Shaip Z. Zeqiri



07.
Poem: “FEEL”
Poet: Jasna Gugić
From: Croatia
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

At my fingertips
I feel the touch
of your soul,
wrapped in my
colourful scarf,
which
flutters in
the burning summer air.

And I am silent,
smiling.
You carry the scent
of a distant sea
that foams
inside my eyes,
and the sound of waves,
crowned in blue.

And I wish to catch
the moment
your step,
your longing smile,
as you walk
on the sunlit side
of the street.
©® Jasna Gugić
Short Bio
Jasna Gugić was born in Vinkovci, Croatia. She is the Vice-President of the Sovereign Artists and Writers of the World SAPS, P.L.O.T.S – USA the Creative Magazine Ambassador for Croatia, Global Ambassador of Literacy and Culture for the Asih Sasami Indonesia Global Writers, Ambassador in Elite Arab Creative Union of The Royal House – Lebanon, Ambassador of Peace and Peaceful Coexistence – Morooco and a member of Angeena International, a non-profit organization for peace, humanity, literature, poetry and culture. She lives and works in Zagreb, Croatia.


08.
Poem: “To Dearest Eva Petropoulou Lianou”
Poet: Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)
From: China
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Dearest Eva Petropoulou Lianou,
You come bearing the hidden ancient spiritual messages,
Your eyes hold the all-seeing eye of the cosmos.
At the very moment we first meet,
You behold my past and future lives across cycles of rebirth.

You give your whole heart to uphold my soul’s sacred mission.
Though countless words may be woven to praise all that is beautiful,
None can fully capture the radiance of who you are.

You are an angel of poetry in this three-dimensional mortal world,
Building a rainbow bridge of verses upon the earth.
You are also a bearer of light across parallel realms,
A living embodiment of truth, goodness and beauty,
A bridge connecting the civilizations of East and West.

You are a messenger of love and peace in the mortal realm,
And the manifestation of love and peace within higher dimensions.
You are an angel blessed with grace and fortune,
Bringing blessings and good fortune to all beings wherever you go.

You are my sister across cycles of reincarnation,
My fellow traveler walking beside me in the vast parallel universe.

Though mountains and seas divide us, and our homelands lie far apart,
Our souls resonate as one, our hearts deeply aligned.
Though thousands of rivers and mountains stand between us, you feel near.
Boundless love carries us through all barriers of time and space,
Hand in hand, together, amid the parallel realms
©® Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)

09.
Poem: “WALLED”
Poet: Tanja Ajtic
From: Serbia/Canada
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Behind, there’s a wall behind me,
I can’t move
it and there’s no way
through the gate.

The wall in front of me
for all my ignorance
of what’s behind

and curiosity exists
bites and
tickles.
Human curiosity,

what’s ahead?
What’s behind?
Where am I now?
In the center of darkness

I stand and wait for some light,
some resurrection,
some better world with more hope

with more love and justice
with more truth spread across
the earth
I wait for the light in the darkness

and I don’t see a way out
but only the wall
is around me and I,
I in the center of everything,

as a human,
as a human occupied while the exit
exists to the sky untouchable
by the physical body

only by mysticism,
imagination or desire where
I see the stars,
where the sky is blue

where the direction is somewhere
in the ether
after the death
of the soul.
©® Tanja Ajtic



10.
Poem: “Tanka”
Poet: Barbara Anna Gaiardoni
From: Verona, Italy
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Tanka
on the couch
with a blanket,
a movie
the appearance
of an unbidden puppy
Bio:
Barbara Anna Gaiardoni is a poet accredited by Wikipoesia – Encyclopedia of Poetry Prizes and Contemporary Poets. She is a pedagogist and award-winning poet whose Japanese-style poetry has been published in over 300 national and international publications, translated into twelve languages, and featured in journals such as The Asahi and The Mainichi. http:// barbaragaiardoni.altervista.org/blog/haikuco-2/
©® Barbara Anna Gaiardoni



11.
Poem: “THE WINTER WHISPERS”
Poet: Hong Ngoc Chau
From: Vietnam
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Goodbye, autumn, and winter comes; it’s so nice
A season’s shift: a chill in the air, golden sunlight
Sun-dappled light shimmers amidst the foliage, really
The breeze seems to whisper a gentle word; you can see

The wind still sings, the sunlight remains sweet,
Drifting clouds float gently, free and unhurried
Winter creeping through the quiet street, stirring my soul;
A sunshine patch by the doorstep lingers on eyes, lips, my soul

The scent of hair drifts slightly, tucking a daisy
A playful smile, “áo dài” of sky-blue color, truly
I return to rekindle a season of longing, beautifully
The stone bench, the tree rows urge me to step quickly

Reaching the school gate, my heart skips a beat;
The teacher’s warm voice echoes nearby, indeed
Good words, right principles with heartfelt devotion,
Give wings to dreams that never fade, all affection

Emotions surge with boundless aspirations, as ever
Steadfast on life’s path, etched in my heart, forever.
The grace of parents and teachers endures forever,
A warmth of love spanning the passing years.
©® Hong Ngoc Chau



12.
Poem: “What If?”
Poet: Faleeha Hassan
From: USA.
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

What if Columbus hadn’t discovered America?
I would be playing hide-and-seek with my daughters.
This afternoon, we will gather around a tray with cardamom-scented tea
and pastries
As my brother,
Certainly, we expect him,
Taps lightly on the door and asks, “Is anyone home?”
We would laugh repeatedly at the jokes my students told at school,
While incense perfumes the room.
If Columbus had not discovered America,
I wouldn’t keep the windows of my apartment closed,
To prevent the fumes of opium from the neighbor lady’s pipe
From polluting it.
If he had not discovered it,
I would enjoy the scent of bread baking every morning
And not be obliged to trek through the woods to Walmart
To buy a loaf of bread and some cheese, after
Asking my young son, “Accompany me? Will you?”
He says: “I’m afraid to walk through the forest.”
So, I trudge there alone.
If Columbus had not discovered America,
I would not take two trains and a bus to reach my university
and return the same way.
I would merely board a minibus
That takes me wherever I want.
If Columbus had not discovered America,
I would have slumbered all night long, lulled by the breathing of my children;
©® Faleeha Hassan
Translated by William M. Hutchins
Bio: Faleeha Hassan. is a poet, teacher, editor, writer, and playwright born in Iraq in 1967, who now lives in the United States. Faleeha was the first woman to write poetry for children in Iraq. She received her master’s degree in Arabic literature and has now published 30 books. Her poems have been translated into English, Turkmen, Bosnian, Indian, French, Italian, German, Kurdish, Spanish, Korean, Greek, Serbian, Albanian, Pakistani, Romanian, Malayalam, Chinese, ODIA, Nepali, and Macedonian. She is a 2018 Pulitzer Prize nominee and a 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee.



13.
Poem: “WHEN LOVE IS SALVIFIC.”
Poet: Concetta La Placa.
From: Italy.
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

It is an inexplicable tension, that state of mind which draws us into that strange emotion that
makes us glow with passion.
It is something transcendent, something all-consuming that slowly
captures the heart, bound to an extraordinary emotion, and lightens it with joy.
This happens when love is redeeming, unique and all-consuming.
When love carries you as if on a cloud of happiness and you don’t know why it’s happening!
©® Concetta La Placa.



14.
Poem: “Why Does a Poet Die Before His Time?”
Poet: Latifa Harbaoui
From: Algeria
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Why does a poet sink into depression?
Is it because he has nothing left to think about except how he will look when they slide him into the morgue’s refrigerator?
How many will line up to stamp a piece of ice with a half-baked kiss, scattering words that are no longer fresh?

How handsome he looks in his sleep.
He is smiling. Surely, he has been promised Paradise. He must have discovered his true worth as he witnesses the soul being harvested.
Why does a poet burn?
Because he knew it all along. They will gather up the poems as they dig through the rubble of old days, the likes, the photographs of themselves beside a
ghostly corpse that decomposed in solitude.
They will hold symposia and poetry evenings. The news anchor will announce: A poet has died of depression.
And before they throw the first handful of earth onto his face, the dead man’s collection will be ready for sale.
Buy a copy as alms for the soul of the deceased.
Why does a poet go out?
He waited, ill and alone, for a timid phone call.
Hello, how are you, my dear?
Are you all right?
I’m inviting you to dinner. Let’s read lots of poetry and laugh until morning, mocking death
and
the nonhuman!
©® Latifa Harbaoui



15.
Poem: “THE SEA DOES NOT ASK FOR NAMES,”
Poet: Dra. Ankica Anchie Biskupović
From: Croatia 🇭🇷
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

At dawn, the sea left a button on the shore,
blue as a sky that had survived the storm.
A single thread still clung to it —
the last thin road to someone’s home.

I held it in my open palm,
that little fragment of a vanished day.
How strange that oceans swallow ships
yet leave the smallest things to stay.

Above the harbour, on the ancient steps,
a woman scattered yesterday’s bread.
The gulls descended without asking
whose hands had earned it, who had fled.

And I remembered all the doors
that learned to close before a knock,
all children who could name their fears
before they ever learned the clock.

Do not build me monuments of peace
while frightened strangers sleep outside.
Do not speak of human dignity
with doors locked firmly from inside.

Give me a world where hands reach out
before demanding where we’re from,
where no child’s tears are counted less
because of where their life began.
©® Dra. Ankica Anchie Biskupović



16.
Poem: “WHEN THE WORLD CHOOSES PEACE”
Poet: Xhuli Spahiu
From: Kosovo 🇽🇰
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

A Poetic Appeal to Humanity
When the sky no longer trembles with fire,
when the night brings no more tears or fear,
when children sleep safely in their mothers’ arms,
and morning rises without pain or sorrow…
Then the world will understand
that peace is more than just a word.
It is bread shared with the hungry,
a hand reaching out to save a life,
and a heart that forgives without asking for reward.

Today, in so many corners of this Earth,
human beings still torture, oppress, and wound,
while children lose their innocence
in a world that should have kept them safe.

How long will the human conscience remain silent?
How many tears must fall upon this Earth,
how many lives must be shattered, how many hopes extinguished,
before humanity learns to feel another’s pain?

Let weapons fall silent and let hearts speak,
let torture and cruelty come to an end.
No power is greater than the value of life,
and no ideology can justify human suffering.

No child deserves to live in fear,
no mother deserves the pain of loss,
no human being should live in chains
of violence, hatred, or injustice.
©® Xhuli Spahiu

17.
Poem: “Deceptive Love”
Poet: Til Kumari Sharma
From: Nepal
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Love is felt disrespect in my life.
Not good is there when one side love is poison.
Love is the rule under power and politics.
It is the bad poison when disrespect with deception is there.
Love is the shining painful melody.
The worth of love is no more when one love reduces the value of another.
Love is not medicine when one loves many keeping you in option.
So, love is sick ness in itself.
Love is death when disrespect in public with anger and revenge.
Love is then unhappy root.
©® Til Kumari Sharma



18.
Poem: “The graceful dancer”
Poet: Xrysoula Foufa
From: Greece
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

The graceful dancer
A beautiful ballerina
in front of an old wall
creates a lovely image.
Graceful but in pain
she recalls her dreams
during a dance break.
She has lived her falling
but she has regained her heart.
She whispers her inner thoughts
to herself in private
since silence is precious.
She prepares her best performance
that will be a perfect surprise:
the sunrise of her soul wishes.
©® Xrysoula Foufa



19.
Poem: “THE NAME SILENCE COULD NEVER ERASE”
Poet: Menda Vreto
From: Albania.
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

The night stitched sorrow beneath her skin,
while raging storms stirred deep within.
Oceans of tears, deserts of words,
a captive sun, unheard by the world.

“You are fragile!” the world would say,
while she bore mountains day by day.
She was ash and fire,
a teardrop and a hurricane,
a rose in bloom upon the blade of fate.
Oh, woman, how many times did you silence your voice
to spare the peace of those who never heard you?
How many springs did you bury deep within
so that other gardens might bloom?

But listen: even stone can learn to cry aloud,
even darkness bows before the breaking dawn.
You are not the wound the world has left behind,
but the hand that dares to shape your own destiny.

And when history speaks your name,
let it speak with honour, free from judgment and pity;
for no sky is vast enough to hold
a woman who has reclaimed her freedom.
©® Menda Vreto



20.
Poem: “A Labyrinth That Seeks No Exit”
Poet: Nagib Alkhwlani
From: Yemen.
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

I don’t want you as a poem to be memorized,
I want you as a poem to be committed.

You are not beautiful — beautiful women are many.
You are the delicious flaw in the order of the universe,
When you pass,
the air stumbles over your dress,
and forgets how it was ever air before you.

Your eyes are not eyes,
They are two ways to survive blindness,
Two vials of concentrated night,
that taught darkness itself how to see.

Your laugh is not a laugh,
It is a small coup in the physics of light,
Light itself bends
to pass through your lips first.

I do not get lost in a body,
A body is a map everyone can read,
I get lost in your fluster,
In that tremor that lives in your voice when I come close,
When your breathing
becomes a breathless poem.

I follow the tilt of your neck when you turn away,
Because your escape is a full confession.
And I know the pulse of your wrist by heart,
As if it were a second heart,
created only to listen to me.

I have no desire to possess you,
Possession is a primitive idea.
Museums possess.
I want to be lost in you.

To be lost in the labyrinth of your hair and never return,
To read the topography of your waist
like a virgin land no satellite has ever touched,
Where every curve is a promise of eternity,
And every shadow, a homeland.

Come closer now,
Let your perfume dissolve into my breath,
Let your silence speak,
For your silence with me
is more eloquent than the noise of all other women.

Listen…
Since I knew you,
The history of all women in my life has ended,
And your history alone has begun.
©® Najeeb Al-Khawlani
Bio: My name is Najeeb Al-Khawlani; I am a talented writer and poet from Yemen.



21.
Poem: “Sadness can have many different sides.”
Poet: Sajid Soomro
From: Sindh, Pakistan
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

Not everyone
walking in the rain without an umbrella
is enjoying it.
Some are simply
trying to escape the melancholy
that settles over their hearts when rain falls upon their courtyard.

Sometimes,
the person walking hurriedly through
a crowd has no particular destination.
They just want to leave the sadness following them behind in some narrow alley and disappear from its sight.
When someone who never posts anything suddenly shares
a quote, perhaps
they are trying
to hide their own sadness behind someone
else’s thoughts.

And when a poet cannot dress their sadness
in the garment
of a new idea,
they conceal it
beneath the
worn-out clothing
of an old poem.
©® Sajid Soomro



22.
Poem: “Cleanse the Inner Self”
Poet: Amb. Dr Tomasz Laczek
From: LUTON UK
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

What melody plays within my soul so deep,
In the heart of the white wolf its echoes keep.
I close my eyes within my world alone,
Is it life neglected, or a path unknown?

Is it an escape from reality’s sight,
Or a journey through dreams in the quiet night?
I do not answer with complete sincerity,
Yet I spread spiritual peace with clarity.

Within the weaknesses of my health I find,
I do not wish to dwell in darkness of mind.
My thoughts seek the cleansing of the soul and brain,
On wings of truth they rise again.

I have the heart of a brave white wolf,
The spiritual strength of eternal nature itself.
A white dove flutters its wings above,
Bringing me messages of silence and love.

Above it soars a fiery phoenix bright,
My conscience receives the flame of purity’s light.
The white wolf watches me with careful eyes,
Passing courage and strength that never dies.

Birds with their songs delight my soul each day,
In my heart beside the wolf they stay.
A white owl settles upon a branch in grace,
A symbol of wisdom finding its place.

Life without hope and faith held true,
Is a gate to dark nightmares breaking through.
Deep within myself, in existence calm and still,
I think of doing good with heart and will.

With the soul’s thought that unites humankind,
May everyone walk the path of love and be kind.
May truth enlighten your minds with its light,
And may children carry joy in their hearts bright.

Author’s Note:
To unite humanity,
each person must first cleanse their own heart.
© ® Amb. Dr Tomasz Laczek



23.
Poem: “A Lake with Eyes of Its Own”
Poet: Mufid Nabzo
From: Syria, Mahardeh
Primelore Published Date: 25 October Sunday 2026.

The poet and sorrow are twins, bound together by their vigil over the suffering of humankind. He sits upon a carpet woven by the wind, yet finds no peace.
He rides the children’s swings, yet joy eludes him.
And when the world grows too small to contain him, he creates a world of his own and journeys into its distant climates, where the soul answers to no changing season.
Is the poet not a child of uncertainty, born from the womb of a cloud with his first breath of sorrow?
Is not his mother a tear, his cradle a bed of thorns?
Whenever a dust storm rises, he closes his eyes and presses himself against the trunk of an oak, as though he had grown from barren stone.
Deep within him, a spring breaks free, winding its way through the earth until, at last, its waters spill into a lake unlike any other.

On its shore, the poet sits contemplating a world that no atlas could ever contain.
Here lies a lake that defies the laws of geometry: round at the horizon, rectangular in its depths, celestial blue and so clear that light seems to dwell within its waters rather than pass through them.
Around its shores stretch meadows of colours nature has never known, as though they had wandered out of a dream the earth has yet to conceive.
Golden fish glide beneath the surface, their gills aglow with light. The stars are mirrored in the water, while the creatures below send their own radiance towards
the planets, as though the universe were sharing its secrets with the poet’s lake.
At night, a band of deepest black encircles the lake’s waist, yet the water itself remains luminous, shimmering like a fragment of night that darkness has
somehow failed to swallow. Even the frogs cast threads of light across the surrounding waters.
They make no sound, offer none of their familiar croaking, as though they had forgotten their earthly origins and learned instead to speak in light.

Everything here sheds its former shape: the meadows, the fish, the frogs, the stars.
It is as though nature had laid its names upon the shore, stepped into the water, and emerged reborn.

Out of this stillness comes a cry without a voice.
It trembles across the surface, then slips into the depths, leaving behind a fragile peace that the slightest breeze could shatter.

Birds return to the lake to celebrate their mating season. Gazelles come to drink, then weave threads of tranquillity from their eyes.
Even insects and snails make their quiet way towards its waters, leaving faint traces along the shore, only for the lake to erase them in passing.

The poet drinks, yet his thirst remains. With every sip, it deepens, opening ever wider within him. He tastes the fruit of the trees, but instead of lightening
his heart, it weighs upon him, as though some kinds of knowledge were never meant to rest in the body, but to descend into the soul and awaken its unrest.
He plays the flute of wisdom and treads softly through the grasses of language, as though each word lay asleep in its own blade of grass, afraid that the slightest footfall might wake it.

At last, he lies back with his hands beneath his head. Cool breezes brush against him, carrying the lake’s fine spray. Beneath the ashes of emotion, a small ember begins to glow, beyond the reach of stillness to extinguish and too faint for the eye to see.

Beyond the lake, light races through the streets. Footsteps hurry past one another, and windows ring with echoes that never sleep. People chase a distant gleam that slips away each time they draw near. Their nerves fray at its threshold, their hands still reaching towards a void that has no end.

But the poet remains on the shore of his lake. He listens to the trembling of light upon the water and follows the star as it leaves its reflection behind and rises back into the sky.

When night settles upon his shoulders, he raises his eyes to a small opening in the roof of the soul. Through it, a slender thread of light finds its way in—enough to show him the path, never enough
to bring the journey to an end .
©® Mufid Nabzo

Thanks all again on behalf of PrimeloreVerse