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HomePrimelore Writer's Heaven.A GROUP OF YOUNG AUTHORS HAVE WRITTEN ALL POEMS.

A GROUP OF YOUNG AUTHORS HAVE WRITTEN ALL POEMS.

HELLO GUYS !
This is Primelore 4th Online publications. We got new Poet and poetess with their nice poems. A group of young poets and poetess have written their poem for our readers. So read and enjoy with all beautiful poems. A List Is given bellow:

01. Md Sohail (Dukhai)(Bangladesh)
02. Dr. Md. Tafazzal Ali Bhuiyan(Bangladesh)
03. Awlia parvin.(Bangladesh)
04. Sayeda Razia Sultna (Simma)(Bangladesh)
05. Sipra Debnath Tultul.(India)
06. Khadija Rahman kalpona.(Bangladesh)
07. Afroza Jesmine.(Bangladesh)
08. Pranab Roy .(Canada)
09. Aniatur Akter Rozi.(Bangladesh)
10. Annalyn G. Mercado. (Philippines.)

Our E-mail Address is jes2mine@gmail.com & WhatsApp # +8801716759863 where you can send your poem for the next session.
Thanks all.

01.

Poem: “The Cuckoo”
Poet: Md.Sohel Dukhai.
From:Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 22/10/2024.

The cuckoo lays its eggs in the house of the crow,
the cuckoo has no heart,
no sense of humanity,
the stupid cuckoo understands
why this cruel behaviour,
the society of birds is destroyed,
the society is destroyed,
no one gets respect,
his dignity is gone,
alas, you are a hyena,
Corona is a talbahana,
Be careful, build your own house,
be happy with your family.
© Md.Sohel Dukhai.

02.

Poem: “Stop injustice”
Poet: Md.Tafazzal Ali Bhuiyan.
From:Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 22/10/2024.

Find the good and find the bad
Times are tough.
There is no shortage of bad people
Not the day before.
In this society, eating for money
It’s better not to go.
I’m dying of shame alone
Life is black.
Walking in the guise of a saint
Masked face.
Speak sweetly
believe who
As is going on in the country
There is no one to see.
As a hero in the land of gold
I want to continue.
Just to prevent wrongdoing
If you are vocal.
Then the country will improve
Don’t bother.
© Md.Tafazzal Ali Bhuiyan

03.

Poem: “Saying to them”
Poetess: Awlia Parvin.
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 22/10/2024.

I lost to life
No one else in this regret,
without accepting death.
Life is not about winning.
Even in losing.
The joy of being alive.
The society, environment, family.
Keep saying
Stand up, run! Run!
You have to win.
Saying to them,
These flesh and blood people.
No robot, Tired, Lose.
Tell him to sit down.
No need to stand up all the time.
Take some rest, visit the sea.
Be a little softer
Only then will they find life in its fullest have,
Not everyone comes into the world to win.
So they say,
Sometimes losing is not the end of life.
Gotta get it all.
Everything should be kept in the right.
In this teaching, the sudhijans die one day,,,
For a small dream.
Because of a small sadness.
With a small sigh.
In the absence of a single ray of sunlight.
For their sake,
Every person in this world
Deserves a piece of love.
A little sympathy.
A drop of butterfly color.
Hasna Henna or Belly scent.
Flying like a flower
The joy of innumerable sighs merging into the sky.
So the people who win have the same rights,
Shepherd’s flute in the afternoon of Chaitra
To hear the chirping of birds, the melodious morning call to prayer.
The roar of the sea is borne within the conch,
The brightness of the black peak,
The coolness of the shade of trees.
The beauty of the thick green of hills.
So are the losers,
have the right
The softness of bathing in a shower.
Come! Come sing the song of living.
The world is neither a place to lose nor to win.
A place to live.
Let’s all live here,
Live differently, live together.
We all depend on everyone.
Win or lose.
Like childhood soccer games.
Victory cup, whichever team wins.
At the end of the game, on the muddy ground,
Together, in the water of a river.
After the bath, Harjit took that football to his neck,
Talking about the joy of playing,
Go back home.
So in their aim to say,,,,
Come sing, the song of survival.
This world is not a place to lose or win.
© Awlia Parvin

04.

Poem: “Rickshaw”
Poetess: Sayeda Razia Sultna (Simma).
From: (Bangladesh)
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

Can that Rickshaw go?
Where babu?
In that childhood?
Under to with my friend, s
Will go?
In the tree
In the walers of Dighi
Whe where there are Bluelototus.
Will go?
One – sided the would bring
the Blue lotus.
He,s gone fer —
Will go
To my childhood Sachi Sar?
He is still standing withe
can in his hand
Will go my childhood?
The Rickshaw walla with a Sweet smile ;
He said why is this careless babu?
I looked and saw that the
flash colored aun had gone out.
The hamp of life dims,
But why does the mind want
Again and again in the Childhood?
Why do you wan autumn white?
Blue sky is wrapped in gloom
I am boring novel
Looking for Childhood.
© Sayeda Razia Sultana(Simma)

05.

Poem: “An Appeal….”
Poetess: Sipra Debnath Tultul.
From: (India)
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

We want them with us.
But what of the millions of unborn s?
Who could not step on the earth?
Let us bring the child back
Make every single child born
and unborn,—– wanted!
Who can know the ways and means,
Without destroying a life,
That God has created in us.
Be contemplative,
Be radiating abundance,
Be against and fight.
Let them come with right,
A child should not cast away anymore,
But be brought within the folds of love.
© Sipra Debnath Tultul.

06.

Poem: “The Respect for Teachers.”
Poetess: Khadija Rahman kalpona.
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

After Allah, the position of parents;
after parents, the place of teachers.
Do not disrespect them,
Parents educate their own children,
teachers educate everyone.
Parents build a future with money,
teachers cultivate knowledge.
They strengthen the ladder of your future,
Do not set it ablaze with fire.
If you let their pains float in tears,Nature will not forgive;
everyone will weep.
The punishment given by the teacher is a blessing,
Yet you have protested against that blessing.
Which path are you walking? What will you become in the future?
A developed nation respects its teachers.
None of them had such courage; I never disrespected a teacher.
The days gone by were very beautiful,
Teachers would discipline and show affection;
Students’ hearts held immense respect for their elders.
Teachers had smiling faces, embracing us when we met.
Their joy was in love and respect.
I still remember those days;
I would run away in fear upon seeing a teacher,
If I suddenly came face to face,
I would salute.
I still honour and respect them.
Rushing from afar to greet,
Happiness erupts, “I remember you!”
Even after so many years, I haven’t forgotten.
“How are you? What are you doing now?”
I cherish all my memories then.
How wonderful it feels to meet a teacher,
Bringing back memories of old,
If the teacher is with you.
May everyone live on in prayers and love together.
© Khadija Rahman kalpona.

07.

Poem : “Teen Age”
Poetess: Afroza Jesmine.
From : Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

One two three four,
Just open life door.
Five six seven eight,
Your opinion is something right.
Nine ten eleven twelve;
Difficult sum can you solve ?
Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen ,
The age starts now teens.
Seventeen eighteen nineteen ;
Ending the age teen.
Oh the shiny sun,
Why are you so hot !
About the age of teen
Whats your opinion ?
If you burn always the world;
How can animal alive here ;
O my god !
Teen age is so shiny ;
A beautiful feelings always blowing in their hearts,
Each teen boys and girls ;
They don’t know how to stop,
They Always wants to rise,
How will stop their race?
Teenager forgot crying ,
So we want to look always their shiny smile face.
© Afroza Jesmine.

08.

Poem: ” MY SWEET GRANDSON , PROKASH “
Poet: Pranab Roy .
From : Canada.
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

What a charming hours were in (Our) mind
You will remain at our midst,
Thanks to so-called magician “HOPE “
Your sweet voice only play into our ears,
But Alas! This is not true,
During moments of drowsing;
Or at deep sleep,
Remain ( We) in heaven in sweet dream of you.
What a loss with this!
During these glorious moments of dream
When You remain mingled
with our hearts ♥️,
What a immense pleasure!
( We) Feel to be in heaven.
But this illusion!
Will ever be flame of lamp of truth?
What loss with this!
Though physically ( You) not on our chests;
Your tune, your voice, your sweet words;
Play in the cores of our hearts without break!
This is our desire; This is our love;
Staying thousands of miles away;
May We draw permanent picture,
In your canvas of memory!
May we create an eternal residence
In your remembrance!
This poem was written in1999.
© Pranab Roy.

09.

Poem: “Mother is my heaven”
Poetess: Aniatur Akter Rozi.
(lyricist Bangladesh Television)
(Dedicated to all mother)
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

Allah and Prophet exist
Mother can be compared
Excect prophet and Allah
My mother is the picture of earth and heaven
I fell in love with my mother and became a poet
My mother was my soul
She was disoriented if I were out of her sight
In her heart, there was my happiness
Losing my mother, my life becomes
Full of darkness
My mother was anxious because of my pain
Now mother is no more, there is no one to understand the pain
Without you, I have only pain and sufferings
Still today I cry for my mother
My mother is my heaven, sunrise of my heart
Those child who understands that heaven is beneath the feet of mother
He will pass his night there.
© Aniatur Akter Rozi.

10.

Poem: “Shattered Soul”
Poetess: Annalyn G. Mercado.
Primelore Published Date: 22-10-2024.

Listen to their deafening cry
Their outrage, emotional turmoil
Muffling anguish and suffocating agony
A simple pat and touch on their hands

Cloak them in your loving arms
Save them from disastrous catastrophe
I’ve been through this painful process
Trapped in darkest cloud

Depression can kill your soul
Friends embraced and whispered comfort
Emphasized that God is our salvation!
Rain will pour, storm will pass

Hurdles teach us courage and resilience
Wake our shattered soul, fight to exist
It’s our journey in life we can’t resist
Battle defeat with gracious heart to God…
©Annalyn G. Mercado

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