Welcome! It’s The 72nd Edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven.

Hello poets from the world . It’s The 72nd Edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven. Thanks all writers and readers. Just Enjoy! Please help us for continue the online Magazine “Primelore Writer’s Heaven. Buy your membership. We need to buy more space for this magazine, for Renew the Domain and Hosting we need money for our employee. Only New poets have submission free for three times . All poets are welcome! All new poets are very special to us. Thanks all .Now enjoy!

01.
Poem: “A street poor boy”
Poet: Afroza Jesmine.
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Do you know him?
He is a poor street boy,
He has a creator who gives him power for his life,
He has parents, relatives, also friends.
He wakes before the sun, curled beside a shuttered shop.
Dust is his blanket, stars his earliest teachers.
Hunger taps his ribs like a nervous clock,
He knows the city by footsteps, not by maps;
Coins sound different when hope is thin.
He sells smiles with newspapers and silent prayers,
School bells pass him like distant weather.
His hands learn work before they learn play.
Rain turns the street into a mirror of him,
Nights teach him courage the hard way.
He guards a dream in a torn pocket;
Kindness, when it comes, feels enormous.
He shares bread with dogs and stories with walls;
Tomorrow is a word he keeps practicing.
He walks on, small, stubborn, and alive.
He is a poor street boy,
He can walks around the world.
From sun rise to deep night;
He does not know where is heaven.
© Afroza Jesmine.

02.
Poem: “MY NAME IS MAI”
Poet: Vo Thi Nhu Mai.
From: Australia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

I do not want you to kneel before me
If you are humble, then so am I
standing barefoot in the same light

. Lift your eyes
What you see in me
is only the sunlight we share
falling equally on both our hearts

. I am not a goddess to be feared
nor a beauty to blind your sight
I am a woman who stays
who meets your gaze and does not turn away

. If you kneel, let it be beside me
both of us human
learning that love is amazing
two souls standing in the same light
and my name is MAI
© Vo Thi Nhu Mai.

03.
Poem: “LITTLE THINGS”
Poet: Mustafa Naci ÖZER
From: Türkiye.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

They kept offering me little things,
because I said I could be happy with small joys.
The tiniest of the sun, the smallest of a flower—
yet the greatest of love,
the longest of nights,
they always made me live through them…

That is why I loved you more.
You were the tiny dream of endless nights.
You gave me a world so vast
that it wasn’t the length of the night—
I reached dawn without even seeing the darkness.
Thank you, my blue and little star…
© Mustafa Naci ÖZER

04.
Poem: “REFRACTION OF LIGHT”
Poet: TAGHRID BOU MERHI.
From: LEBANON – BRAZIL
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

I turn within my shadow,
and the directions follow me
like the trace of a prayer.

From my palm, light descends
into the chests of the thirsty,
and harbors rise
from the confusion of sand.

My steps
spell out the distance
letter by letter,
then fall into the abyss of time
without an echo.

In my blood
sleeps a postponed river;
whenever I breathe… it awakens
and rearranges absence.

I hang my heart
on the rack of clouds,
and the sky bows
for fear of breaking.

Darkness combs its stars
with trembling fingers,
and the night stumbles over my secret.

And at the end of the dream,
meaning slips away
like a wild bird delaying its landing
so as not to awaken the end.
© TAGHRID BOU MERHI.

05.
Poem: “A REAL WISH”
Poet: Shaip Zeqir Zeqiri
From: Albania.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

I would like to write
About human’ s right,
But there are so many troubles…
Why justice is so late?
To dicide rules,
Achieving the real equality,
There are enough facts and tools,
To realise freedom and humanity!
I’ m just dreaming
For a real spring,
Where people live in peace
And full harmony,
As in paradice,
Without conflicts
And to end dayly delicts!
© Shaip Zeqir Zeqiri

06.
Poem: “BUILDING BRIDGES OF PEACE”
Poet: Parvinder Nagi
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Laughter is muffled and shadows linger tall
Bridges bring us closer and walls divide forever
In shades of black and white
Everyone is wearing a mask of fear
Hiding behind a veil of distrust
Hearts beat with trepidation in fit of rage
The unknown becoming a spectre
We live in a fortress with a division
Crumbled under the weight of misunderstandings
Let’s unfold the tapestry and bring down the walls building bridges bringing peace and compassion.
© Parvinder Nagi

07.

Poem: “The Cry of a Woman”
Poet: Tanja Ajtic.
From: Serbia/Canada.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

The cries will scare the birds,
and they will be heard
across the entire planet,
in the sky and on the earth.
The cries of a woman,
the cries of women
to save the future for children,
for nature, for animals, for survival.
The cries will scare the birds,
of which there are fewer
and fewer in the world,
as there are with animals,
fish, and insects.
The world is falling apart.
The women of the earth
will defend the downfall
of the planet.
Because there is no one else.
Everyone else has failed.
© Tanja Ajtic.

08.
Poem: “how it’s changed”
Poet: Mary Garde
From: Vancouver Island
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

trouble with us today
we don’t know what to say to our children or anyone why the world has gone this way we were
always told to be good we should try to love one and other this is hard to see now that those
inforceing the rules have totally changed it all

instead of keeping the law the bad people are in charge now everyone is scared to say what
should be done what is going to be the end of this
will we recover with any sense or will it take a life time to reemploy a better world than what we
have left behind .
© Mary Garde. mkap

09.
Poem: AEWM.
Poet: Alinafe Wilson
From: Lusaka, Zambia.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Home listens and so do I
shadows cast 
caressing and hugging 
all the corners of our home
It reminds me
  there will always be blind spots
spotting spaces where light doesn’t hit
calming down
  taking a sit
  it is quiet
aware that I’m here
this summer’s day
my fear is losing silence
although summer seldom is- silent
a sense of calm is found in the greys of October 
wind whistling and whispering 
summer will be over
for now
this home listens
  to all that nature can give
and so do I 
shadows pass as light breaks in
sun singing 
so do the birds
this home listens 
and so do I

There once was a home
back to where it all began
where rose petals stained the ground

glossing over
in anticipation 
an arrival
in between the smoke and the thunder
a cry and some screams 
he is with us
they said
come with us to where a story of freedom still burns today
where sheer will always makes a way
echoed in a home littered with your name
you are with us
and we are with you
and when you try stand your own two feet
  our hands will anchor you 
I know you will return the favour some day too
where it all began
there once was a home

Dancing on the sidewalk
out on a gloomy day
cracks in the concrete
a dance on the sidewalk
strangers on my sides talk
kept on going for a minute
either looked crazy or happy
don’t know what they would like me to be
they wanted me to be like them
and let this weather win
this weather cant keep me thin
I’m dancing to their small talk

out on this gloomy day
really don’t have anything to say
so I’ll keep on dancing on the sidewalk
© Alinafe Wilson
Bio: “I am Alinafe Wilson, a writer and a painter. The way I work shows in both my writing and artwork. My process is kind of erratic and spontaneous which I believe speaks to rhe call of feeling and situation in everyday life”. I am from Lusaka, Zambia.

10.
Poem: “Death Ramp”
Poet: Ahmed Farooq Baidoon.
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

What tethered us to such a decline?!
An abysmal failure of my battery to declare;
Ain’t I a dead being or like a cat with souls of nine?
I shall hear that weeping deer plea: How do you dare?

Adieus! that sinful orchard of love psalms doomed to diabolical vanity,
Nothing but so-called bag of lies, a specter of happiness manifest-clear,
Trembled quill with depleted ink through paginated profanity,
The sanctuary of my own bird-of-paradise fret with fear.

I look around and find no panacea for despair,
Strongholds of mounts, that burnt vegetation, then sizzling willow;
No glimpse nor gleam of salvation, that scepter of divine justice to declare: ‘it isn’t fair’!
You, desolate wasteland, shall pay the price of eradicating thine meadow.

Ripped soul of mine with a mortuary and an epitaph of mandatory send:
‘it is ticking louder, no whale of healing time for casualty to mend!’FFFFFF
©Ahmed Farooq Baidoon

11.
Poem: “Keys to Heaven”
Poet: Mua’mmer al Sufiani.
From: Yemen 🇾🇪.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

No matter how many fences we put around us,
time is a thief stealing our age from the hour.
And the wind, if it breaks a branch, doesn’t apologize.

When I’m not good at being present there,
I stand here, facing the finding, and the path will come.
God’s treasures are still full, and haven’t run out of what we want,
and the key is sharpened for it with a prayer in our hands.
© Mua’mmer al Sufiani.

12.
Poem: “Poetry Lives In My Soul”
Poet: F. Shelton Gonkerwon
Liberia, West Africa
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Poetry resides in my soul
‎Poetry presides in my mind
Poetry decides what I write
Poetry justifies my poetic right
Poetry enhances my poetic might
Poetry provides me a poetic light
Poetry lives with me in the same bed
Poetry is what I eat as my daily bread
Poetry is my passion until I’m finally dead

Poetry resides in my soul!!
‎Poetry teaches me to be kind
‎Poetry shines in my mind like dime
‎Poetry often makes me to feel very fine
‎Poetry tastes in my mouth like sweet wine
‎Poetry often inspires me to write on time
‎Poetry enables me to look far and wide
‎Poetry often sits on my right hand side
Poetry exposes me; I never one day hide

Poetry inspires me; I often sit and boast
Poetry inspires me; I often sit and toast
Poetry is in my blood; it flows like flood
Poetry is my dream; it tastes like ice cream
Poetry is my game; I play it without shame
Poetry is my game; I play it on my own lane

I think poetry everywhere I sit
I think poetry everywhere I go
I think poetry even in my dream
I think poetry even while I’m in bed
I think poetry always until I’m dead
I think poetry as it’s my daily bread
I love poetry because it’s my gift
I love poetry because it gives me lift
I love poetry because it gives me no rift
I love poetry; it makes me not to ever shift
I love poetry; it makes me to wink and think
I love poetry; it keeps me afloat, I never sink
I write poetry; I often see beyond ordinary eyes
I write poetry; it keeps me glued in my corner
Truly, poetry lives in my soul!!
© F. Shelton Gonkerwon

13.
Poem: “Rainy Turquoise”
Poet: Muhammed Gaddafi
From: Libya.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Between me and autumn
Desires live.
Turquoise seems as rain
And pain that winter can’t bear.
Every cloud, even if it is about to fade,
Will not rain like the streams of my pain.
Oh, my anxiety, when it blossoms insomnia
And helplessness throughout the storm
The question sways between a heart and a poem.
Translation Zaid Al-Shaheed – Iraq
© Muhammed Gaddafi
Bio: Muhammad Gaddafi Masoud (known as Abu Salah), born in 1978 in Gharyan, Libya, holds a theater diploma from Tripoli’s Jamal Al-Din Al-Miladi Institute (2000) and is the author of several collections, including lyrical poetry (We Woke Up to Joy, 2006) and journalistic dialogues (My Dialogues with Them, 2008). Widely published across the Arab world, his work has been translated into numerous languages—English, Chinese, Spanish, Polish, French, Italian, and Albanian—and appeared in international print and online journals from Spain to Argentina. In 2024, he was selected as one of 72 global poets for an Italian-language anthology curated by Angela Costa, reflecting his broadening transnational literary presence.

14.
Poem: “My son”
Poet: Ghazala Al-Harizi.
From: Libya.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

The wolf, my son
sleeps with one opened eye
Whenever it glances a victim,
That easy to be reached,
its eyes sparkled like lightning
And reaped a dark cloud
As I taught you once
I am still following my father’s guidance
sofollow my guidance,
and stretch your lip calmy,
When you hear the water’s revolution
And keep your hand in your pocket
When it appears at the horizon
a suspicious peace,
and abstain from the poor harvests seasons
and saddle the horse of pride
whenever it blows around,
a stab in the side of the nation.
© Ghazala Al-Harizi

15.
Poem: “Oh, Mother”
Poet: Allahobhayo Dal
From:Pakistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

The attire of your handmade stitches
Is more precious to me than branded clothes,
Oh, Mother,
The bread of your hand with butter
Is more delicious than the buffet of a five-star hotel,
Oh, Mother,
The shelter of your arms
Is more secure than foolproof security,
Oh, Mother,
A ride on your back
Is better than a business class airplane,
Oh, Mother,
Your lullaby is more serene
Reciting verses from the holy book,
Oh, Mother,
Your consolation is more comforting
Success with flying colors,
Oh, Mother,
I am nothing without you,
I feel suffocated,
Please, once again,
Let me tightly hug you,
Let me kiss your wrinkled feet,
Let me be close to your chest,
Let me hold you as you held me in winter,
Oh, my lovely Mother,
Oh, my worthy Mother.
© Allahobhayo Dal

16.
Author: Abduqahhorova Gulhayo
From: Uzbekistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Article: Alisher Navoi
— a symbol of national identity and spirituality In the history of every nation, there are figures who become symbols not only of their own era but of the national consciousness that lives on through centuries. For the Uzbek people, such a great figure is Alisher Navoi. He was not only a poet, thinker, and statesman, but also a spiritual pillar of an entire nation. The 15th century, the period in which Alisher Navoi lived, was a challenging time for Turkic language and literature. Persian dominated science and literature, yet Navoi courageously chose to create in the Turkic language. Through his works, he proved that Turkic was a rich, elegant, and powerful language capable of expressing profound ideas. This was not merely a literary achievement, but a major step toward recognizing national identity. At the center of Navoi’s works stands the human being. Justice, honesty, compassion, patriotism, and respect for knowledge are repeatedly emphasized in his writings. For Navoi, status or wealth was never as important as the idea of a morally perfect human. It is no coincidence that answers to many of today’s spiritual and moral challenges can be found in Navoi’s works. Through his epic cycle Khamsa, Navoi reveals the most delicate aspects of the human soul. He places goodness against evil and justice against oppression. These ideas have not lost their relevance even today. After all, the progress of a society is measured not only by technology or economics, but first and foremost by spirituality. Navoi not only wrote about serving the people, but embodied it through his actions. He sponsored the construction of madrasas, bridges, and hospitals, supporting education and social justice. In this sense, he is one of the rare figures who united word and deed. For today’s younger generation, Navoi is not merely a poet found in textbooks. He is a symbol of national pride, respect for the mother tongue, and spiritual maturity. To read Navoi is to understand one’s roots and recognize one’s identity. In conclusion, Alisher Navoi is not a historical figure confined to the past. He is a spiritual mentor who still lives with us today, guiding us through his ideas. Turning to Navoi’s legacy means taking confident steps toward the future.
© Abduqahhorova Gulhayo.

17.
Poem: AMONG THE ODES OF TIME”
Poet: Maria Kolovou Roumelioti
From: GREECE
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Time, you make me hurt…
What do I owe you?
You offered me cloudy water
As medicine, to drink! …

And I, the mortal, walked
With a thirsty body
My hands built the sky
My feet the soil!….

I left my armor
A nest, for what will come
And responsibility always embroiders me
With what I have suffered!….

My roots dry up
I watered them with tears
Inside me, the soul is a sea
That had only salt!….

The temporary envied me
I fell into delusion
In tragic irony
Gravedigger’s profit!…

In the pains of time
The truth falters
Mud fell into the eyes
And the world collapses!….

All the beautiful things are over
The hourglass is empty
In time the shooting
I will find the new homeland!….
© Maria Kolovou Roumelioti

18.
Poem: “Skipping”
Poet: Ruby Kaila Malhotra
From:Canada
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

. Whan dawn breathes light into the skin of earth,
and samudra sighs beneath the crimson yawn of sky,
I hear the voice of Gaia, ancient and unbroken,
whispering through the haar that cloaks the lochs and braes.
In this moment, every atom remembers its origin,
every leaf murmurs in a dialect lost to men.
The forest hums a quiet duende, hammer in copper iron gold and
its roots entwined in shan shui stillness, read black and white
while winds carry the scent of lavande, phoenix sun blown
across fields kissed by the soft hum of bees.
The mountains, draped in nebula veils, wings stone etched ?
speak in the tongue of basalt and time, tears laughter traces
bearing witness to epochs of fire and frost. and why?
In the river’s flow, I find the rhythm of existence,
a ceaseless mandala of beginnings and ends, but
circling back into itself like the ouroboros.
Each droplet is a syllable in nature’s eternal poem,
carved into stone by centuries of patient devotion,
its syntax shaped by chaos and quiet.
But nature,,, is no idyll.
It is maya—like lyre reed carve margins
an ever-shifting veil of light and shadow,
beauty woven with peril, hymns recount Matilda
a paradox suspended between bloom and decay.
In the heathland, the hawthorn weaves its barbed song,
reminding us that creation wears thorns.
Even in the heart of beauty, grey backpacking carrier
there is the ache of entropy, O she almost fell.
the inevitability of return to dust.
© Ruby Kaila Malhotra

19.
Poem: “MOTHER TONGUE “
Poet: Maya Milojković
From: Serbia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Within me speaks
a language not learned,
but remembered before the first breath.
It does not come from books,
but from my mother’s voice,
from the quiet of the kitchen at dawn,
from whispers that heal fear.
Within it live
all my first “whys,”
all my “stay,”
all unspoken prayers.
The mother tongue does not ask who I am —
it knows me.
In it, I return home
even when I am far away.
When the world grows loud,
when words lose their faces,
it reminds me
that I am not just a name on paper,
but a trace that remembers.
Within it I breathe more slowly,
walk more surely,
love without translation.
For the mother tongue
is not only a means,
it is my shadow,
my mirror,
my light.
And as long as it lives within me,
I know: I carry home inside me.
© Maya Milojković

20.
Poem: “Martin Luther You Are King(Dedicated To Black History Month)”
Poet: Vic Jarson.
From:Kenya.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Martin luther you are king
Now that freedom can ring
Now that we believe we shall overcome everything

Martin luther you are king
Now that your name many can sing
Not many beats what your sacrifice could bring

Martin luther you are king
Now that many know what matching for freedom can bring
Now that your speech i have a dream became an anthem for change we can sing

Martin luther you are king
Your words and actions showed us where we should be heading
You are gone but forever you are a leader never ending
© vic jarson

21.
Poem: “I am the Coming One”
Poet: Abdel Latif Moubarak.
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

with the taste of the cry and the lament,
and the tear from eyes with rusty cheeks, a sign.
I am the end goal,
scattered by the winds of bewilderment…
and I am divided
on the faces of weeping… an address.
I am a human,
born of time and wind,
a pain that braids thorns
between the first steps of the soul.
I am the one bleeding,
fields of truth on my forehead
leading me
to blood-poems that ache,
and they don’t return.
Letters of embers brand me.
The seeds of the dream in my veins,
a choked hope.
I am the hanged one,
and the ropes of death blindfold me.
I surrender all my flags.
I am the Coming One.
I am the… Coming One.
© Abdel Latif Moubarak

22.
Poem: “The silence of thy words”
Poet: Samuel megbajinon.
From: Nigeria
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

The quickening works
the fires of thy words

The breakthrough words
The healing words
The words o salvation

The peace words
The waters o joy words
The words of life words

Honour thy words o Lord
The living Waters o thy words
The testimonies I the words

Thy words lighted my soul
In thy words take l, delights
I delights to share thy words abroad

give me thy words that’s able to prove me
give me thy words o able to supplies abundance
give me thy words that is able to defend me

The words that able to sustained me
The words that’s able to protect me
The words that’s able to deliver me

What is the word
What is the word
Where is the word

The Genesis was the words
The words was with the maker of the universe
The words is the maker.
© Samuel megbajinon
Bio: I’m Samuel megbajinon,From Nigeria a singer,a dancer and a story teller as a child l love stories telling my mother use to tell me a lots of folks tales ,l study English literature,l have written poems and shorts stories but no body to assist in publishing, and I, have not be able to get a publishing companies ,l just assist individuals in writing poems for birthday party and shorts stories for students school presentation for fees.

23.
Poem: “When Alphabets Bleed”
Poet: Dr Ratan Bhattacharjee
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

When alphabets bled on a February street,
Words learned the weight of sacrifice.
Vowels trembled in young throats,
Consonants stood firm against silence.

Mother tongue rose, wounded but unbroken,
Each syllable stitched with courage.
Blood translated grief into meaning,
And history learned how to listen.

Letters refused erasure by fear,
Grammar defied the language of guns.
From shattered voices grew a nation,
From loss, a promise learned to speak.

On every twenty-first of February,
We read freedom in our own words.
© Dr Ratan Bhattacharjee

24.
Poem: “Revivalist”
Poet: Sajid Hussain
From: Pakistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

The seasonal tourist seems to retreat,
The sadness in deepened rosy twilight,
With every breath of air relieves hues of frosty reception,
Engraved for niches in a temple of heart,
Under a winter breeze a change of yarn ,
In giddy mazes glitters for a sail,
Eyes of a pale face with hoary frost,
Grows stolid demeanor for conventional forthcoming,
Up for grabs a new provoking arrests an incline,
Hoard nuts of life with lucrative perks,
Inhabit to unbend snatching breaths of disasters,
Driven with the wind and tossed of bad weather,
Banners of thousands sunsets glow lamps of revival,
On stunted plants at misty twilight zone,
A rainbow tints spray at deepening dusk,
Impulses storm broken branches with zeal,
To face just like solemn as a mask light,
Induces to feel their stalk as virgin rose,
Radiated vigor like a blushing cloud,
Is a beauty of life as a fiery moon,
Raise wavering courage bold as hawk,
The vision that endeavours for satisfying eyes,
rown icy heart is need of a vestal flame,
Nimbus of budded roses on a heavy heart ,
Glimmers like a star under breezeless sky,
Brooding over stainless fields casts the soul into body,
A haze of winter far in the night,
Awakes golden beams of morning sun,
Period of repression saturates the night in woods,
Pulse of gain for pristine freshness of spring,
Approaches to retreat splendor of winter ,
The secret of subduing birth unfolds with hidden flower.
© Sajid Hussain. ©

25.
Poem: “Paradigm Of Feelings”
Poet: Elpiola Lluka.
From: Albania
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

When I first came to this place,
my thoughts inked full of colours…
Unending letters my brain embrace,
as papers gave me creative powers.

Where the sunbeams shine the most,
soul is resting on its laurels;
In darkness the feelings improve lost,
By bird’s chirrup they’re smelling florals…

In hearth of my chest the fire is burning,
all my thoughts are annihilated…
The heartbeats in purple are turning,
reminds me bunch of memories decimated…

Beyond skyline we meet the past,
across the soul it is nurturing…
Fighting itself in pathway so fast,
and shot an arrow in heart luring…

By then the glory crimson is showing,
blended with ashes and flames…
Feelings as arrows are bowing,
In love battle the heart always blames…
©️ Elpiola Lluka,

26.
Poem: “The Cry of an Orphan”
Poet: Syed Shah Hussain.
rom: Pakistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Distress and misery engulfed me the day my father died,
No one to hold me, no one by my side.

Overwhelming burdens shattered dreams once high,
Facing abuse and despair, my only reply—a silent sigh.

No one holds my hand as others enjoy their life,
While I lack even a book, a pen, or freedom from strife.

Everyone should listen to my cry—
Who am I? An orphan, no one can deny.

My body endures hardships, my soul bears the pain,
My shattered dreams, like pieces of glass, remain.

No ordinary food, no melon, no mango, to get borrow
While others feast on delights, I taste only sorrow.

With little hands, I toil in dusty shops and streets.
Happiness and joy are strangers I’ll never meet.

Everyone should listen to my cry—
Who am I? An orphan, no one can deny.

At night, hunger keeps me awake and weak,
I toss and turn, no peace to seek.

Bitterness and fear leave my tears dry,
My heart trembles with each moment that goes by.

No roast chicken, mutton, or beef touch my plate.
Since my father’s passing, I’ve lived a cruel fate.

Everyone should listen to my cry—
Who am I? An orphan, no one can deny.

I wander the streets, searching garbage for food,
To feed my siblings and lift my mother’s mood.

Loneliness and grief surround me all day,
Anxiety and pain never go away.

Disconnected from family, my culture feels far,
Oh, rich people, you see me as you are.

Take pity on me, as the heavens decree,
Support and kindness could set me free.

Everyone should listen to my cry—
Who am I? An orphan, no one can deny.
© Syed Shah Hussain.

27.
Poem: “Nostalgia”
Poet: Ayesha Imran.
From: Pakistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

At the secret palace of my mind,
Yearning memories love left behind.

At twinkling night, I find you, Memories tarry, heart still blue.

Tears fall like melancholy on my face.
Echoes of momentos, forever in my lonely palace.
Under the dusky sky, your harsh memories haunt,
Passing through your remembrance that haunts.
My silence that screams,
Echoes through barren dream.

I see the huge canopy with hearts in pain,
And momentos bring only rain.

At twilight, my muted cry reaches the sky,
I don’t remember you, good bye.
© Ayesha Imran

28.
Poem: “For parents”
Poet: Amb. Dr. Tomasz Laczek
From: UK 🪽
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

I see
Like parents
They sat down at the table
In the evening by a small lamp
They sit opposite each other
Holding hands
Placed on the table
They look each other straight in the eye
Understanding each other without words
They sit in silence
I see their hands
Full of wrinkles
Destroyed by hard work
I see their faces
With wrinkle furrows
Engraved with worries
I see their grey hair
Gray eyebrows
Below them
Tired eyes
However, in which
Like in the past
The same flame burns
The one I remember
In the eyes of
Full of feelings of love
The peace of spiritual faith
Of the silence of light
Their always open hearts
So many times
Hurt by us
Our behaviour
With our deeds
Inappropriate words
Today behind the fog
Those distant shadows of memories
That are gone forever
Tears today
Guilt
Which pregnancy crushes
Like a big boulder
I’ll say this
Why do we need it
As long as we can
Let’s love them with all our heart
Let’s not make them sad
But let’s make them happy
With every step of life
Let’s surround them with our feelings
With all my heart
Wings of true love
Before one day
Instead of them
We’ll see an empty table
Illuminated by them
With this little lamp
© Amb. Dr. Tomasz Laczek

29.
A moment of happiness
Author: Adam Koturević.

From: Serbia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

I feel like I lived
All dates, centuries
The last two millennia
And some before Left in time
Steadfast in everything
And completely convinced
That I can do anything
I met her yesterday
It gave me back my wings
Made my day
As if I were there…
© Adam Koturević.

30.
Poem: “Pure love”
Poet: Xrysoula Foufa
From: Greece
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Even if you get cold
even if you get hot
your heart touches
the flowers of love .
Even in your sadness
injustice and misfortunes
your loving soul does not wither.
You love ,respect
and lend a helping hand .
You resemble the sun
that warms everyone.
You love your fellow beings
in a simple way :
this is the essence
of your own being.
© Xrysoula Foufa

31.
Poem: “The Grammar of Holding On”
Poet: Rana Zaman
From: Bangladesh
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

Our fingers are bridges over quiet water,
built without blueprints or spoken vows.
Your palm becomes a map I trust,
Every vein is a road that leads me home.
The ring is a small moon,
orbiting a promise too large for words.
We walk as if the ground remembers us,
softening itself under shared weight.
Silence learns our names,
stitching them into the air between breaths.
Time loosens its grip,
forgetting to hurry while we pass.
Love here is not fire,
but warmth kept alive by leaning closer.
Even fear shrinks to a shadow,
tucked behind the light of your thumb.
The world becomes a long sentence,
and we are the meaning holding it together.
If tomorrow breaks its glass edges,
our hands will gather the pieces.
© Rana Zaman

32.
Poem: “RAIN DROPS ARE SPILLING TO THE PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST”
Poet: Mirjana Stefanicki Antonic
From: Republic of Serbia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 10 February 2026.

To “James Joyce”
“Chamber music” versed
To his hero and spiritual guide Odysseus
The sounds reached the imaginary Ithaca
From the Dublin suburb of Rotham To Trieste, Paris and Zurich

The poet believes in something from his soul
Closes his eyes and sees Nora Barnacle
And he sees the field and the shooting star
And a shooting star
And a sneaky sta
And Dreamer He continues to look at the field
Sees two fields In the field there is Nora Barnakl

Raindrops spilled
Butto Up Your Shirt James Aloysius Joyce*
The rain is still falling Moistens “Portrait of the Artist in His Young Days”
With the technique of internal monologue
Oh, poet of immortalized time
The day you first mer Nora Branacle
And started suffering from “ideal insomnia” like “stream of consciousness”
Together with Readers through “Finnen’s Wake”

Raindrops spiled across the endlesse field
Button up your shirt James Aloysius Joyc
The rain is still falling Like tears of jo
Filled with a soft mixtur
Devoted love and painful longing

Write a Nora Barnacle poem and your life poem
Rejoice, Poet Tomorrow is the sixteenth of June – Bloom’s Day
The song will arrive at the sent address
Like it’s been coming for decade
For that sixteenth of Jun Yes! For that sixteen th of June
In honor of Nora
In honor of “Ulysses”
*James Aloysisus Joyce, 1882, Rotham, near Dublin, Ireland – 1941, Zurich,
Switzerland
© Mirjana Stefanicki Antonic

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