Poem lover! It’s the 92nd edition of primelore writer’s heaven.

Hello our honorable poets and readers!
It’s The 92nd Edition of “Primelore Writer’s Heaven” Just Enjoy.
Dear poets thanks for your poem.
Read now the 92nd edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven.
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We are collecting poems for our special edition 100th from all old and new poets. Send your poem for our special edition of 100th.

Dear poet! Our all Special edition is always free for all poets from around the world. So you can send your poem for our Special edition 100th.
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2. Name of the Poet:
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Thanks all poets and readers.
Now read all poems from below I published for you.

01.
Poem: “Imagination”
Poet: Afroza Jesmine.
From: Bangladesh 🇧🇩.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Trust me I am a fairy!
How this possible? MY;
Endless love,
Sweetest song,
Kindness heart,
You all are my friend.

I love all.
Small big rich or poor.
Believe all.
Like all.
Unseen or seen.
Eden or heaven.
True or believable.
He or she.
Every people I like most.

Always I want to touch;
Rose Lily Night queen.
Tree Sky Air Sun Moon I can touch with my;
Heart.
I can feel everything from around the world.
Sun is hot Moon is cold,
Ground is new or is old,
River is blowing or it is dead,
Every time I talk with them,
Evening night midnight or dawn
Never forget each moment.
Afroza Jesmine



02.
Poem: “what’s the news”
Poet: Mary Garde
From: Canada.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

today’s a good day to look over all
see if there’s any new way happening to those
who have been wandering it’s a cruel world some country’s are returning populations who have
been wandering
searching to have a safe place to raise their family’s
will they get a chance to return to places they have been will they get welcomed
amazing we aren’t hearing any results that tell us how it’s going on media showing people who
are wandering
where are they now
all we hear is war we aren’t optimistic
get past it all get over taking over instead provide
for the needy people let the greedy people think about it all
© ®Mary Garde



03.
Poem: “Poetic Voices in Medellín”
Poet: Vo Thi Nhu Mai
From: Australia.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

in Medellín, the mountains listen
while 68 voices rise like dawn
from 32 nations
from deserts, forests, rivers, and ruins
they come with words
like fire, like water, like prayer

each poet arrives
with the melody of their people
with memory in syllables
with pain sharpened into truth
with hope blooming gracefully
through the many aspects of history

languages gather here
as rivers meeting the same sea
arabic, spanish, english,
and countless tongues of longing
become the music of one song

a poem becomes a bridge
a verse becomes shared understanding
a voice singing for peace in the longest night

and so the world listens
to 68 ways of weaving life
68 ways of resisting despair
68 ways of saying
we are still here
we still dream
we still believe

this is a festival, a gathering of souls
a chorus of courage
a revolution of tenderness

here in Medellín
once more, poetry becomes the axis of hope
the reason for peace
the seed of a human spring

and the earth remembers
even in broken times
words can heal
voices can unite
and poetry
poetry can teach humanity
how to bloom again
© ® Vo Thi Nhu Mai



04.
Poem: “DESERT MEMORY “
Poet: TAGHRID BOU MERHI.
From: LEBANON – BRAZIL.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Upon the shoulder of an ancient dune,
a blue bead hangs from the neck of a wandering wind.

The fingers of sand turn the pages of a forgotten day
among mirages drifting beneath the sun.

Far away, a caravan draws its trail of dust
toward a solitary star suspended in silence.

At the mouth of a well,
the moon trembles upon the water,
its reflection breaking into widening circles.
A palm tree offers its shade
to the footsteps of passing travelers.
The neigh of a horse sleeps within a stone
smoothed by the patience of years.

A grandmother’s cloak still flutters
from the opening of a desert tent,

while the fragrance of coffee rises slowly
with the first breath of dawn.

In the distance,
names scatter across the horizon,
carried by the winds from season to season.

Stories sprout like grain
between one dune and the next.

At the edge of evening,
a child traces a door in the sand
with the tip of a slender stick.

Through that door enter horses,
songs,
and the weathered hands of travelers.

Only a faint imprint remains,
a line the wind leaves behind
upon the memory of the desert.
© ® TAGHRID BOU MERHI –



05.
Poem: “Αbout love”
Poet: Eva Petropoulou Lianoy.
From: Greece.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Moon know nothing about love
Man know nothing about the love
The humans love each other as they remember the love they received
Love is energy
Love is free and everywhere

Sun know nothing about love
As exist
Sun keeps shine
Give light and brightness

Humans know nothing about love
Love is not selfish
Love is not take or give

Love is a small gesture
little thinks as a sparrow came to the backyard
Love is few
Love can be big moments

Humans cannot understand love
Nobody can understand they cry of a newborn baby

Love we learn by giving away
By respect the man
Cherish the woman
Worship God

Love we cannot see
Or touch
Love is in ever little piece in earth
Listen your heart

Love as your heart beat
With harmony
With truth

Love is freedom.
© ® Eva Petropoulou Lianoy



06.
Poem: “Poems on One Leg”
Poet: Reema Hamza .
From: Syria.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

If only I were a child,
but age arrives from the last line.
If only I were a moon,
but the nights fall asleep early.
If only I were footsteps,
but the roads have abandoned their journeys.
If only I were a river,
but the directions are thirsty from one side.
If only I were a dawn,
but the night has not surrendered its keys.
If only I were a secret,
but the eyes sold me in the market of reproach.
If only I were a rose,
but your breaths withered before the approach.
If only I were a tent,
but the earth does not fix a stake in oblivion.
If only I were a tent once more,
but the wind changes my homeland every evening.
If only I were a cloud,
but the rain plays in another sky.
If only I were a wall,
but longing leapt over me.
If only I were a wave,
but the sea has dried up in the index.
If only I were a map,
but the colors are questions.
If only I were a seagull,
but the storm steals me from the memory of the sea.
If only I were a metaphor,
but mouths are cages.
If only I were a final line,
but the reader tore the page before arriving.
If only I were a paradox,
but the shores are alike.
If only I were a painting,
but the children mistook the war for swings.
If only I were your woman,
but your heart is the People’s Republic of China.
If only I were a seed,
but the soil is filled with the bones of history.
Bio: Reema Salman Hamza. Syria. Graduate of the Higher Institute of Music, specialization (Violin). Editor-in-chief of the newspaper “World of Culture.” Editor at Daily Global Nation, English. Member of the International Advisory Board at Versala Academy, Greece, Athens. ▪️ I write in various literary genres including classical poetry, metric poetry, prose poems, articles, and short story art. ▪️ I have practiced literary work as an administrator and editor in many prestigious platforms and newspapers. ▪️ My texts have been translated into several languages including English, Italian, Albanian, Spanish, French, English, and Chinese. ▪️ I participated in a literary encyclopedia titled “Oasis of Creativity,” a book that includes Arab creators, published by the General Organization for the Nile and Euphrates in its first and second parts. ▪️ I participated in the book “The First Drop of Rain” by Dr. researcher Amani Ibrahim. ▪️ The book “Dialectical Cultural Digging Methodology” includes critical studies on my texts. ▪️ I participated in the great international anthology of poets of love and peace, organized by the Moroccan Creators Association. ▪️ I participated in the fourth volume of the international book “Mandib” under the patronage of the Mandib International Foundation, India.
▪️I participated with female creatives from the Arab world in the book (Arab Women’s Letters) published by Dar Al-Sanabel, Palestine. ▪️I have poetry collections including “The Thread That Became a String,” “Poems That Chase Me,” and a book of critical studies on my poetic experience. ▪️I participated in a literary encyclopedia translated into English and Russian, including creatives from around the world, titled “Breath Of The World,” supervised by the writer Raisa Melenkova. ◾I participated in the third part of the global dialogue series “The Unwritten Chapter” about literary Barcelona, which includes dialogues with a selected group of creatives from around the world. © ®Reema Hamza.



07.
Poem: “Let the Past Go”
Poet: Lan Xin
From: China.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Dear one
We all know the saying
Let the past go

Yet we often turn back
to unhappy people and memories
cannot help but speak of old misfortunes
and let negative feelings spread

Many are unhappy
because they cannot let go of past sorrows
They are only fighting against themselves

Dear one
Life favors no one
Time passes for all

Your happiness in the future
depends on —
whether you truly
let the past go

No more looking back
No more crying out
No more complaining
No more drowning in pain
No more dwelling in doubt
No more keeping score
No more holding resentment

Only when you
forgive yourself
will life
set you free

Whatever the past held
is now gone
May you let go of pain
and keep all joy

We must walk forward
look ahead
To forgive others
iis to be kind to yourself
Let the past go
and the future holds promise

Time waits for no one
Hold your head high
walk toward the light
and live joyfully
This is your greatest glory

May you dear one
through all the years
shine like a beam of light
and become a better you each day
© ® Lan Xin



08.
Poem: “I DO NOT SEARCH FOR HAPPINESS”
Poet: Hind Alhassan
From: Yemen.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

I do not search for happiness in a bright morning,
nor even in that cloudy afternoon.
I do not run breathless toward a luck
that smiles on no one.

Happiness, and light, and luck —
they are all within us,
when it is the inward eye of the heart
that observes the scene.

Therefore you find me, my happiness…
each time my soul expands
to receive another being.
In the small ringing of a telephone that says:
“Wake up, Hind, it is time for the match.”

My happiness finds me in hidden places,
in silent benches,
in corners that no one has yet discovered.
And a voice calls me,
making my name on its lips a melody.

In a sincere glance
that turns toward me the face of life.
In the inhalation of the fragrance
that the rain leaves on the neck of the earth.

In the ash of a butterfly
that insists on leaving
its colored nebula on my hand.
In the flutter of a bird’s wing
that tries to awaken my window.

In the foam of coffee
that looks like a small morning celebration.
In the silence that follows tender words.
In the hands I do not see,
but that I feel
patting my shoulder and grasping my hand.

In the making of all these memories,
leaving them in their sheaves
for seasons whose harvest time I do not know.

In the whisper of silk on my neck,
each time the shawl of joy
wraps itself around me.
In the smile to a squirrel
that still runs in my memory,
in one of the distant gardens of Istanbul.

In the memory of an old sage
toward whom I ran seven years ago,
in a street of the city of Al-Hodeïda,
in a desperate attempt
to cover the nakedness of his sorrow;
and who, in all likelihood,
has now left this life,
but has not left my memory,
for I could not forget that final look.

In the fall of that scarecrow
that guards my grandfather’s field,
as he says:
“Straighten it, Hind, so it does not fall.”
And I call back to him, laughing:
“Let it fall, Grandfather,
for in some falls, there is life.”

In the breezes of an evening by the river
where I sat in the company of Ahmed Chawqi,
while Hafez Ibrahim was beside him,
while Abbas Mahmoud Al-Aqqad
twisted the idea between his fingers,

while Taha Hussein saw what eyes do not see,
while Naguib Mahfouz smiled in silence;
we spoke of poetry and of homeland,
until we became
the two banks of a single river.

In a noble man
who gathers all that I write
in the baskets of his soul,
then scatters it in the corners of the earth
as the bird scatters seeds,
as if he were saying to me in silence:
“You are a generous plant,
worthy of blooming, of growing,
and of seeing your fruits embrace the sky.”

In the laughter of a woman
who sells hot bread
on the road leading to the park,
hiding her sorrow
while telling me
how that dear part of her breast
was amputated,
so that the rest of her body
might continue on its way.

In the heart of a man,
each time I have taken refuge there,
I have grown more certain
that some hearts are homelands.

In the prayers of my venerable old lady,
who baptizes my name
with her invocations after each prayer.
© ® Hind Alhassan.
Translated by Abdullah Ingad




09.
Poem: “My Morning Sun”
Poet: Dr Ratan Bhattacharjee
From: India.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

You arrive before the dawn is awake,
Soft as the whisper of a wandering breeze.
Your smile unties the knots of darkness,
And the morning learns its first song from you.

You are my morning sun,
Not because you burn with fire,
But because your quiet warmth
Teaches my heart how to bloom again.

Every sunrise borrows your golden light,
Every dewdrop carries your tender name.
The birds rehearse forgotten melodies
Only to celebrate your gentle presence.

When your eyes meet mine,
The horizon opens like a dream.
Even the silent trees begin to sway,
As though love itself has found a home.

Distance cannot imprison affection,
Nor time erase the fragrance of your soul.
You remain the first prayer of my morning,
The last star shining in my night.

If life is a long and uncertain road,
Walk beside me with your patient grace.
Together we shall gather scattered dreams
And weave them into endless seasons of hope.

Stay, my beloved,
Like sunlight resting upon a quiet river.
For as long as mornings return to the earth,
You will forever be my morning sun.
© ® Dr Ratan Bhattacharjee



10.
Poem: “MY HEART”
Poet: Mustafa Naci ÖZER
From: Türkiye.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

The barren steppes, the arid lands,
The wind that whispers through oak branches,
The scorching sun, the drifting snow,
Blizzards, bitter frost, and sweat upon my brow.

My troubled heart—a bird in flight;
My hopes, my dreams,
The life I never had.

Spring seldom comes to visit me;
Both summer and winter find my soul.
Though seasons endlessly may change,
The sorrow in my heart remains the same.

They burn my heart so deep within,
While I am filled with endless longing.
Some helpless, hopeless, lonely souls
Have made me lose the very self I knew. Ah!
If only I did not possess this aching heart.
© ® Mustafa Naci ÖZER



11.
Poem: “Pls never take”
Poet: Ephrem Yigletu
From: Addis Ababa,Ethiopia
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Please never take
As my real
And reality
For what I have
Said,asked
and claimed virtually.

Reality is fading
And dying
Leaving its places
For the unreal
Which is going virtually
To feel as real

When i say
I love you
I mean to say
I am in love
With your virtual
Heart,mind and body
Never to have anything with
Your real heart,mind
And body
Which might have
Fallen in real love
With somebody.

When i send you
For my beautiful rose flowers
And beautiful hearts
They are not for
The real you
I never found you in real
But
They are virtual flowers
Hearts and other gifts
From the virtual me
To express my virtual love
To my virtual queen(you)
to meet her here suddenly.

Just as Art
To my virtual Queen
Whose heartbeat I feel virtually
Here with me.
© ® Ephrem Yigletu



12.
Poem: “BEAUTY”
Poet: Maria Kolovou Roumelioti
From: Greece.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Which castle, unguarded,
walked into the vastness
and the sea was ashamed
and was dressed in the red
of the sun’s rocky helix?

And left behind the cypress trees,
like
leaning monks
in a prayer pose,
to carry in their branches
the wounded nests
from the stones of Goliath?

Which flash uncovered memory
and dew emerged
from the clouds, the dew
to quench its thirst?

Which summer star led you
to distant lands that your mind was seeking?

Now I am silent!
Let me listen
to the walking of the ants
in the haystack the bales!

This sea of ​​the mind
Breathed with myrrh, it appeared
and seduced us!
© ® Maria Kolovou Roumelioti.



13.
Poem: “Perfume of Poetry”
Poet: Bertha Galán
From: Bolivia.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

I am a poet, here I am…
tree of clear freedom
Life springs from my verses,
beautiful rosebud
leaving a wise perfume
in my serene spirit.
I defy the winds in my flight,
Wings spread wide towards the sky!

Enchanted ink of the dawns
eternal lights guide my destiny;
They perfume the air with a thousand flowers
and footprints that never fade.
I sail on splendid waves,
fruitful metaphor of the soul,
Poetry, art, and the glory of the heavens!

Art of a thousand ancient muses
sacred landscapes of devotion,
You treasure golden harmonies
at the ends of time.
The beauty of art awakens,
unwavering and luminous
blessed in the voice of verses!
© ® Bertha Galán



14.
Poem: “The night sorceress”
Poet: Jagoda Sablić
From: Croati.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

With her beauty,
Aware of her own charms,
She seduced all the young men
Who vanished without a trace
Into the night.
She stood naked, covered
By a black veil,
With her velvet voice
She enchanted her lovers,
Who disappeared into
The whirlwind of darkness.
With her magical eyes
She hypnotized every
Passerby, transforming
Him into black stone.
The sorceress in black
Rejoiced in her power,
Knowing that her magic,
Together with her beauty,
Would last for a long time.
The Moon hid behind
Dark clouds,
Not wanting to be a witness
To the evil fate.
Until one day,
A beautiful young man appeared,
Whose energy was stronger
Than any magnetic field.
An unseen eruption of passion,
A fire burned through the bodies
Of two souls longing
For an extraordinary love.
Electricity spread
In every direction.
Overwhelmed by the force of passion,
The evil sorceress killed him
With the energy of her power.
She cast him into
A dark abyss,
With no return.

For the first time,
Her heart felt
Regret and love.
Her dark eyes,
Like two deep, endless tunnels,
Released a tear.
Her superiority disappeared,
Her arrogance,
Her power.
She was haunted by memories
Of the fiery dance,
Of strange energies
And ecstasy.
She called for him,
Begging the good fairies
To bring him back.
Suddenly, a mighty
Wind arose.
It carried away the black veil
Into the sky
And left the sorceress of darkness
To burn in the flames,
Her naked body consumed by fire,
With the terrible scream
Of a desperate woman
That awakened
The sleeping night.
Only the black veil
Flew across the sky
And vanished forever
Among the dark clouds.
On the shore stands
A black stone.
It is the Night Sorceress
Who weeps
Over her tragic
Destiny
© ® Jagoda Sablić



15.
Poem: “Oceans Apart”
Poet: Dr.Purnima
From: India.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

When people turn strangers in a bed,
When their bodies no longer respond to each other,
When an ocean lies between them,
And they do not know how to cross the barrier—
Is it the miles that keep them apart,
Or the silence that grew between their words?
Is it the absence of touch,
Or the slow forgetting of how to reach for each other?
Some distances are measured in oceans,
Some in unsent messages and unfinished conversations.
And sometimes the longest journey
Is from one heart to another.
Burning
© ® Dr.Purnima



16.
Poem: “The Harlot of the East”
Poet: Md. Naeem Aziz
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

In the hour when daylight bled into rust,
I saw a young girl dragged through the dust.
Her eyes were rain, her face full of pain,
As humanity drowned in greed and shame.

Her father was helpless with fever and debt,
Coins were borrowed as time was the fate.
Then poverty sharpened its merciless blade,
A daughter’s deal that made her a slave.

I purchased not a body that night,
But only time to stand beside her fight.
A crushing debt that broke a human life,
Turned streets and walls into chains of night.

Before the sun rose and shone,
My messenger returned with coins I owned.
The debt was paid and humanity won,
Freedom was the gift that left her reborn.
© ® Poem’s Note: This poem is based on the story of a poor family, where a teenage girl takes a loan from a powerful man in order to save her ailing father. According to the agreement, she is unable to repay the debt on time, and as a result, she is forcibly taken and pushed into prostitution as a form of repayment. A witness to her suffering intervenes upon seeing her condition and, through financial assistance, helps to free her. The poem portrays a tragic yet hopeful depiction of poverty, exploitation, human compassion, and liberation.
Bio: Md. Naeem Aziz is a Bangladeshi Author, Writer, Poet, Engineer and Photographer. He is best known for his poems & photography. He was born on 10th December 1998. He is from Dhaka, Bangladesh.



17.
Poem: “Wound of Tears”
Poet: Til Kumari Sharma
From: Parbat Nepal.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

Tears made tsunami
Pain unlimited in the heart
May be at beach alone to weep
Consoling slowly to see sea vibes
The free tears are dancing with wounded hearts.
Feathers of pain to bring art in the existence.
Alienation and isolation bring the artistic sharing
Life is a kind of tomb in itself.
© ® Til Kumari Sharma



18.
Poem: “Unresolved”
Poet: Sohrab Pasha
From: Bangladesh 🇧🇩.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

In the fire of resentment, the alphabet of love is consumed.
Only the night keeps a record of life’s most shameful afflictions— its inward burnings, its silent hemorrhages.
Clouds drift.
Leaves drift.
Tears descend.
And the darkness of debt grows heavier.
Water wanders.
Dust wanders.
Rivers wander.
Even the shadows of people are carried away—
along with entire households on the shifting sandbanks.
Yet one thing remains:
the unresolved murmur of memory,
the promise to break a promise.
Behind the brightness that gathers in human eyes,
there lingers
a sorrow concealed from daylight—
a dark blossom of betrayal.
© ® Sohrab Pasha
Translated by Alam Mahbub.



19.
Poem: “The List”
Poet: Golam Kibria Pinu
From: Bangladesh 🇧🇩
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

I too was left out—again and again,
yet your list was always complete.
Deliberately shattered,
you cast me away—
from the deck of a ship in the flood
into the wilderness.
Did I ever wait for mercy or grace?
I walked on foot,
yet with wounded dignity
I never went to the king’s house,
nor tasted his sweet offerings.
Without certificates,
bearing insult after insult,
shedding silent tears,
I filled my house with grief.
Yet even then
drawing my own cloak close to my chest
I did not become self-seeking.
I remained hungry— still I never entered
any list.
© ® Golam Kibria Pinu
Translated by Alam Mahbub.



20.
Poem: “The Liberation of the Self”
Poet: Muammar Al-Sufyani
From: Yemen.
Primelore Published Date: 30 June Tuesday 2026.

No one stands in this battle but you
And every event awaits the birth of your word
Damn those who break the vow
I will go forth with my resolve
And shatter the Shackles of the End
He whose head is crowned beneath the sun
Fears not the night upon his knees
© ® Muammar Al-Sufyani

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