Love is blowing |The 97th Edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven.

01.
Poem: “MY SNOWDROP”
Poet: Mustafa Naci ÖZER
From: Türkiye.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

You are a blossom, pure and fair,
A tender bud beyond compare.
My silent bird upon the air,
You brought me spring along my way.

Like sugar drifting from above,
You wrapped my soul in joyful love.
You lit my lonely rustic cove,
And filled my waiting arms with cheer.

You were my bright celestial light,
A star that turned my dark to bright.
You taught all hearts to choose the right,
And shone through every passing day.

You bloomed through snow at break of dawn,
While rosy dreams were gently born.
When I was burning, bruised, and worn,
Your smile became my sweetest song.

A bouquet resting in my hands,
Like honey sweet in distant lands.
A love no passing time withstands,
You brought me peace when words were gone.
A butterfly upon my flower,
An angel in my darkest hour.
Among white peaks with silent power,
You were the breath within my soul.

Defying deserts, dry and bare,
Like living springs that blossom there.
To thirsty lips and hearts in prayer,
You became life—my Snowdrop fair.
©® Mustafa Naci ÖZER



02.
Poem: “We desire peace”
Poet: Afroza Jesmine
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Dear people of the world!
Are you doing well?
We are conscientious human beings!
Why can we not live in well-being?
We desire peace.
Stop war
Stop now, stop now.
The Earth belongs to us all;
To the flowers, birds, trees, and foliage;
And to all the creatures dwelling in the deep forests.

Wherever I look;
Across the entire span of this earth,
Life exists.
This life belongs to us all;
This existence is shared by us all.

Yet, why is there so much bloodshed?
Why is there conflict and war all around?
What was gained through war?
Did you manage to eat more?
Has peace truly arrived;
Through war?

Has the country truly developed through war?
Has peace been attained through war?
That neighboring nation!
Those animals, birds, flowers, fruits, and foliage;
Those human beings!
You have no right to destroy all this.

Stop! Stop! Stop now.
This life is fleeting;
This world is fleeting;
This world belongs to you, to me, to all of us.
Wherever there is life;
This world belongs to everyone.

The light and air of this world,
The flowers blooming on the trees,
The clusters of fruit hanging heavy;
The animals roaming free in the wild;
Let them all live;
Each in their own way.

Why do you wage war?
Why do you kill people?
Why do you kill the creatures of the earth;
Why do you destroy this beautiful world?
You are doing war,
And the world is destroyed!

Those little children!
What wrong have the children done?
And those women!
Who used to walk about freely,
Who spoke with a smile,
Who offered you love;
Your own family;
Families from the neighboring state;
Families from across the globe;
Why are you causing everyone such suffering?

Stop! Stop!
Oh! warmongers;
Stop war now!
We do not want it—no, we do not want it;
We do not want war at all.
In this fleeting life,
We simply wish to live in peace.

Oh! warmongers;
Silence the clashing of your swords,
Ground those warplanes soaring in the sky,
Withdraw those warships from the seas.
No, no—we do not want war at all.

Stop now, war-mongers;
Make the world peaceful;
Let everyone live in peace;
Stop the war;
Stop the war now.
Give us a peaceful world.
(The poem is dedicated to the helpless people, children and wild animals injured in all the wars of the world.)©® Afroza Jesmine.



03.
Poem: “change the world”
Poet: Mary Garde
From: Canada.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

somewhere on a distant shore others struggle
for more food
more housing
more consideration
to the struggle
placed on them
from war abuse greed
we are humans everyone we cant be blamed for whats been done
we cannot receive a single
blessing with out the generosity from those in power who could change our fate within hours
let us be the reason why things can change
in our society
let the lack of interest reform
so we can
live an existence we
can change what our children see
let them be little kids no wars no harm
no visions of cruelty let the children be protected
let them see changes in their lifetime
©® Mary Garde.



04.
Poem: “The Hidden Cabinet”
Poet: Vo Thi Nhu Mai.
From: Australia.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

a phone charging before departure
a daily ritual before another road

the kitchen light finally switched on
after wandering through the house

there was laughter pretending to be jealousy
a cabinet that kept its stories safe

a night holding two lamps
one remembered yesterday
one waited for tomorrow

the round pond counted ordinary things
a buffet reakfast, the shopping mall

a hug along the corridor
a warm smile to be forgotten one day

the smoothness of skin was only a river
flowing into the most interesting story
the warmth only sunlight resting on its surface
what remained is a place in memory
where someone could lie in the dark
and still leave a little light behind
friendship is perhaps this
two travellers, each
carrying a small hidden cabinet
each simply placing one precious key
into the other’s hands
©® Vo Thi Nhu Mai.



05.
Poem: “THE MOTHER WHO FORGOT HER NAME”
Poet: TAGHRID BOU MERHI
From: LEBANON – BRAZIL.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Every morning, she would wake the sun
and let her fingers complete
what the night had begun—
an ancient weariness.
She planted bread in the mouths of children,
and lived on the fragrance of fullness.
Everything around her grew:
the schoolbags, the notebooks,
the shirts that had grown too small for their owners, except for her…
She was shrinking,
like a candle that knows
burning is its purpose.

When the years had passed,
she did not hear their footsteps.
She only saw her hands
turn into two maps
of roads everyone had travelled
and then forgotten.

The rooms closed their doors,
and laughter moved away
to other homes,
while she remained,
talking to the dishes
as though they were
the only members of her family.

Every evening, she set an extra plate,
then lifted it again
as one lifts a heart’s last wish
that can no longer find its way.
One winter,
she searched the mirror
for the girl who had once arrived
in a white dress,
but found only a woman
whose features were guarded by silence.
Late that night,
she turned off the kitchen light,
but her heart remained lit,
waiting for someone to knock—
someone who knows
that mothers never close their doors,
even after everyone has left.
©® TAGHRID BOU MERHI



06.
Poem: “Words”
Poet: EVA Petropoulou Lianou
From: Greece.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Words
Silence is not the answer
When Sun rise

Moon is a light that
Give birth
To our dreams

Action
We can only trust
When the reality
appears
We don’t need
so small minds

We are here
to believe
In our thoughts
And in our principles

When the miracle
is happening
Only Flour
Can give the solution
To a hungry mouth
©® EVA Petropoulou Lianou



07.
Poem: “Time as Our Witness”
Poet: Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)
From: China.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Three thousand years ago
You were the Lord of the Universe—the King of Kings
Known to gods and mortals alike, I was your cherished Queen
Then came the great catastrophe of the Three Realms
Tearing us apart abruptly, leaving us to grieve the love we lost

Since then, time has carried me
Across the Ten Directions and Dharmadhatus
Through six cycles of reincarnation
Reborn as a human, I walked the path of cultivation for nine lifetimes
Endured all the tribulations of the mortal world, just to meet you again

After three thousand years of wandering
I searched for you a thousand times among the crowds
And finally, today, three thousand years later
We reunite beneath the magnolia tree
Its dancing shadows whisper our ancient vows
In the moment our eyes meet
We see reflections of ourselves from three thousand years ago
And the endless search through lifetimes unfolds before us

Above the mortal world, you remain the supreme King of Kings;
Within the mortal world, you are also the finest man on earth.

Heaven and earth unite, with white cranes as their matchmakers
Sun and moon unite, with Venus as their matchmaker
Mountains and rivers unite, with gold as their matchmaker
Chestnut and pine trees unite, with bees as their matchmaker
Turquoise and black jade unite, with golden threads as their matchmaker
When you and I unite once more, who shall be our matchmaker?
Let three thousand years of time be our matchmaker
To witness our timeless love

For the rest of my life
I do not wish to return as the goddess of the Diamond Kingdom
I only wish to be the little woman in your arms

For the rest of my life
I do not wish to leave a legacy for a thousand years
I only wish to be with you, day and night

For the rest of my life
I do not wish to be a fairy in the clouds
I only wish to live fully as a mortal woman

For the rest of my life
I do not wish to be showered with thousands of affections
I only wish to nestle in the arms of you, the ultimate doting husband

For the rest of my life
I do not wish to return to the cosmic kingdom
I only wish to savor the love of this mortal world

Time as our witness
Heaven and earth as our testimony
May we be united for ten thousand years
And never part again
©® Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)



08.
Poem: “THIS AUTUMN INEBRIATED ME”
Poet: Kujtim R. Hajdari
From: Albania.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

This motley autumn makes me drunk,
In folk dress bright, it struts and sways;
Its bell-notes echo, clear and sung,
And ether-sweet, rich perfumes raise.

I walk as though on fragile lace,
Afraid I’d hurt what lies below:
Dewed carpets spread in beauty’s grace,
With leaves and colors laid in glow.

On half-bare branches, close at hand,
Ripe quinces breathe their fragrant bloom;
They lean like friends, as if they planned
To whisper sweet of you—perfume.

I tread as if in fairyland,
While autumn strokes my brow so well;
And in the purple it has planned,
From shadows—like a pomegranate—you swell.
©® Kujtim R. Hajdari



09.
Poem: “Enchantment of Naran-Kaghan Valley”
Poet: Syed Shah Hussain
From: Pakistan.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

In Naran-Kaghan Valley,
There blows soft, cold breeze.
We can find wildflowers in dense forests
Under pine and alpine trees.

And sitting under the trees,
Listening to the whispering of streams,
Enjoying their melodious voice,
Breathtaking landscape screams.

Watching the morning dew
On the petals are like pearls,
My sight spots some peasants
And a few agile squirrels.

The floating clouds and gentle,
Cool breeze which climb the peaks,
Exploring the fountains, mountains,
And climbing hilly steeps.

The sunlight screaming through the gaps
In trees gives mysterious delight,
The rising moon, the glittering stars,
Which caught my sight.

Watching millions of stars,
A bright moon in a shiny Milky Way,
Water streams and speedy winds
Blowing in each way.

Himalayan bears roam,
Snow leopards prowl the land,
Golden eagles soar above,
Majestic and grand.

Among wild roses and junipers,
Flora abounds,
The Naran-Kaghan valley,
Beauty in every corner astounds.

Purple iris and buttercups,
Dots the grassy floor,
Where foxes wander,
adding charm to the lore.

At lakes like Saif-ul-Malook,
Their tales inspire
Legends of fairies
That never seem to tire.

Ansoo,Lulusar and Dudipatsar,
Reflections so serene,
Nature’s splendor surrounds,
A breathtaking scene.

Shogran’s meadows,mountains of Himalaya
And Siripaye’s trails hold their grace.
Among towering pines and Alpines,
You’ll find peace and solace.

Rich history lingers
In ancient monuments of grace,
Islamic, Sikh, Hindu, and Buddhist
Cultures leave their trace.

The Naran-Kaghan valley,
A paradise on Earth,
A haven of wonder,
A gem of priceless worth.
©® Syed Shah Hussain

10
Poem: “Decades back, in the monsoon months”
Poet: Maheswor Paudel
From: Kathmandu, Nepal.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Decades back, in the monsoon months
I used to fall asleep in the music of cicadas and toads.
My parents, who grew all wrinkles in their faces with paddy, and remembered home only after their vision
could hardly identity the narrow trails in the dusk, always returned with grass loads.

All alone, I satiated my hunger, navigating our kitchen garden and devouring cucumbers and fruits.
My mother, after returning home from a twelve-hour hard work, would cook for us and wake me up for foods.
All my childhood days passed without seeing my parents in the afternoon as I didn’t see their single day off.

I grew with goats and buffaloes like many other children of our village in the luster green hills.
Do today’s children, who hardly know where the milk they drink comes from, know how it feels?
Will they ever owe nature for not their gadgets nor department stores nor cafes, but soil produces their meals?
©® Maheswor Paudel.



11.
Poem: “MY HIDDEN LOVE”
Poet: Jagoda Sablić
From: CROATIA.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

MY HIDDEN LOVE
I hid my love within
Every letter, so that
No one could ever
Find it.
Love grew in every
Word, in every verse,
Into a poem, into rhyme,
Into a river of love.
My hand trembled
As it wrote love in
Crimson ink,
Filing my heart
With a tide of love.
Hidden among poetry,
It trembled with fear,
Hiding its face,
Wrapped in a crimson
Veil of love.
Still, love flows
Like a gentle river.
Two hearts whisper
The same rhyme,
Which lives within
Poetry and sings a
Song of love.
©® Jagoda Sablić.



12.
Poem: “The Song of the Century”
Poet: Muammer Al-Sufyani
From: Yemen.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Love wrote it
And peace composed it
And the century sang it
from the sidewalk of the 21st
To download the sound in global format
Click
through the link of brotherhood
here..

There is not enough space
on the memory of wars
Deleting files of death
and some pictures!
©® Muammer Al-Sufyani



13.
Poem: “THE DEATH OF LOVE”
Poet: Badamasi Ismail Chikaji
From: Nigeria.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Peace and hormany take flight,
As smile is blindly a cry,
As tears fail in letter with agony,
A flag for a manifestation of melancholy.

Whose dirge is recited before their Eyes,
Their bleak future is now at their hands,
Whose dreams are the left overs in caged,
While victory is sighted as light in dark.

As their eyes are always swollen in tears,
While the mothers are going in madness,
Going mad with greif and memories,
For the pain is read from their faces.

The only legacy of love after betrayed,
The feelings would stay newly a fresh ,
The image can stunch as life for ever,
The lighting of a salvage was raped to death.

To wonder a death of love I hold this poem,
Like a flag waving like a sun’s panetrations,
That purity is missed and water is fiction,
While mercy was shouted in human corridor.
©® Badamasi Ismail Chikaji



14.
Poem: “Source”
Poet: Tanja Ajtic.
From: Serbia/Canada .
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Don’t tell me how to go away, how to get over it.
You don’t hear my heart how crazy it beats
and the blood goes down the slide.
I don’t breathe.
Don’t tell me that tomorrow will be better
and the world is woven with shiny threads,
with the colors of the Sun.
You don’t see the rain that unpleasantly taps
on the roof of the city and disappears slowly,
it is scattered and extinguished.
Don’t talk to me, keep silent
Our eyes will see all the weight of heavenly clouds.
Our eyes will meet with silent glances in time.
Don’t talk, the universe sleeps.
Don’t whisper, not to wake billions of eyes
from the sky that blink.
Don’t tell me anything.
In your harbor, however my long memories are poured.
You don’t know the source.
©® Tanja Ajtic.



15.
Poem: “The Future of the Clock”
Poet: Young-eun Kang
From: .
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

What has passed is simply past.
If it clings
to what has already gone,
without knowing it is gone,
it would no longer be a clock.
A clock knows
that at last
the river flows back into the sky.
Do not wait for me.
I keep leaving.
Even if you come to me,
I will still be on my way.
That is why
I am a clock.
At midnight,
the clock will ring alone.
It will say
that love and farewell
have no tomorrow,
and return once more
to a yesterday

endlessly replaying itself.
You and I
will one day break down.
Even if you never awaken again,
to keep crying out
without stopping—
perhaps that is
the dream of a clock.
Trust the minute hand
and the second hand
of your heart.
Perhaps tomorrow’s clock
will become tomorrow’s world.
Wherever the clock is walking,
that place
will be tomorrow’s world.
Uncaught
by broken time—
that will be
the future of the clock.
©® Young-eun Kang



16.
Poem: “A memory of a past life”
Poet: Ruslan Barkalov
From: Ivano-Frankivsk region.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

I revisit long-forgotten places
and a past that no longer offers warmth.
I yearn to return to where the spark ignited, to the realm
of genuine emotions and dreams.
I flee from my own essence, reaching for the stars,
as frigid as my heart.
I have become a stranger to all that once was.
The day concludes, giving way to night,
during which my heart
awakens to beat more fervently
in a torrent of memories
and illusions that rise repeatedly.
Only in the morning do
I rediscover my true self within the vacant walls.
And I aspire to become a star –
Just as frigid, to radiate from the heavens
and remain unattainable to all.
My thoughts drift to distant valleys as
I seek the ancient past that eludes me.
I experience a continual demise within myself,
yearning to feel the warmth of beloved hands,
if only in my dreams.
I escape from my own being by reaching for the stars.
There is no affection in castles built in the air,
and my heart remains shattered.
Bio: Ruslan Barkalov. Born and raised in Ivano-Frankivsk region. Theologian. Participant of literary meetings in Ivano-Frankivsk, Lviv, etc.And also in the anthology entitled “Sunflowers: Ukrainian poems about war, resistance, hope and peace” by the American publishing house River Paw Press. (2022) Poetry Planetariat- 9th (World Poetry Movement (WPM)) (2024) Participant of the Mili Dueli 2023 competition: Poezija I Poetry (Bosnia and Herzegovina) participant of the International Competition “Literary Asia-2024” (Kazakhstan) The author of the books: “He who conquered death” (2019) and “The price of a mistake” (2021). ©®Ruslan Barkalov



17.
Poem: “The importance of revision:”
Poet: Ahmed Aziz El-Din Ahmed
From: Egypt.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

At first glance, creativity appears incomplete and lacking in form; therefore, the poet resorts to… To review, filter, and sift it, removing any extraneous or unnecessary material.
It diminishes its value and controls the revision and education phase – the “investigative force.”
The attentive one, and it is aided by the preservation of meanings, dates, and various kinds of
knowledge,” and the revision indicates
In reality, it stems from the creator’s desire for their creation to emerge flawless, free from defects. The impurities, purified from the turbidity of speech, complete in wording, meaning, structure, rhythm, and imagery.
On the other hand, refinement indicates a feeling of inadequacy and an accusation against creativity, for the reviser
Or the critic does not look favorably upon his creation, so we find him reconsidering it; it is lacking. He nurtures him, adds to him, prepares him, and educates him, until his image is complete and he appears in a splendid form.
An image that is acceptable in form and content.

The notion of natural talent and linking poetic excellence to the ability to speak without difficulty or
Suffering is not at all incompatible with reviewing poems after they have been published, as
He takes care of it and refines it until its content is sound and its form is complete, including
Quality requirements; for this reason and others, we have seen a number of poets link the quality of poetry
By refinement and purification, as Al-Hutay’ah used to say, “The best poetry is that which is polished and refined.”
The term “al-hawli” refers to someone who has lived for a year, and the phrase “sabil shi’r fi sahib fihi akl hayyin an” means “a path of poetry in which its owner looks for a full year.”
He emerges with a mature level of work, suitable for the masses to consume, and it is well known that Al-Hutay’ah belongs
To the school of Zuhair bin Abi Salma, known for its craftsmanship, where those belonging to this
The school places great importance on revising, refining, and presenting their poems in a professional manner.
Conscious and deliberate, Zuhair had learned this method from Aws ibn Hajar and Tufayl.
The singer, and poets like him, fall under the category of “the affected poet,” meaning “the one who…”
He refined his poetry with culture, and he revised it through extensive research and reconsidered it, like Zuhair and Al-Hutay’ah.
Undoubtedly, the evaluation and refinement of poetry requires extensive examination, study, and reconsideration.
In reality, it reflects the poet’s conviction that he is not satisfied with the first thought, so he works on
To fill the gaps in his creativity and mend the cracks that may not be apparent at first glance. Therefore, critics warned against the consequences of releasing creative works without review, especially since poetry is a form of intellect.
One exposes oneself to it, just as they warned against the poet becoming arrogant about his creativity and thinking he has reached the highest level.
He takes it out completely without sifting, and the result will be disastrous for him.(To be continued)
©® Ahmed Aziz El-Din Ahmed



18.
Poem: “After the Let-Down”
Poet: Muhammad Al-Qaddafi Masoud
Translation Dr . Salwa Goda
From: Libya.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

I watch it, but it doesn’t rain.
I come back hooked on what
I’m carrying—certainty.
Because after the let-down,
there’s only the dream.

He Knows and Doesn’t Know
He props up the lean of his question,
the big one.
Without knowing
he’s the one who’s leaning.
©® Muhammad Al-Qaddafi Masoud
Translation Dr . Salwa Goda



19.
Poem: “Contours of Inner Pilgrimage”
Poet: sajid hussain
From: Pakistan.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

Tilted vision throbs to lines to lift insight,
Darkness seeps through curtains of imagination,
Surrounded with the hegemony of fallen meditation,
All ways towards the blinks of curiosity dip deep,
Nothing binds me in the cave of measurement,
Aloofness in wonderland amazes with junction,
In the mid of journey new aspect neglects,
The torture of last longing across the eternal span,
The creeping of forever quest for to craze wandering,
Clothes the inspiration with touch of majesty ,
Moments turn by turn by shades of decision ,
Spray the novelty aroused by step of life,
Ringing tones of vacuum bestow the bundle of chaos,
Which splendor strikes the pathway of falling.
In the ruins of my memory I search my self,
Mirroring the life with naked reality to compass ,
The journey on the path of truth unveils eternity.
©® Sajid Hussain



20.
Poem: “The Shadow House of the Poet Shahid Qadri”
Poet: Sohrab Pasha
From: Bangladesh 🇧🇩.
Primelore Published Date: 04 August Tuesday 2026.

The tree of birth grows smaller as it grows.
The river of mornings and evenings is accustomed
to sightless journeys.
Light breaks. The river tears apart. Dust rises.
Dreams take flight. No one remains.

Unfinished work clings to both feet.
Leave is never easily granted.
The body of machines searches for rain.
The golden hues of evening rise inside the house
of night.

The language of classical art. A collage of rain.
A rainbow blossom of the sea. You are
astonishingly beautiful.
The word poet belongs to love. No day of death
can diminish it.

The poet Shahid Qadri has no house.
An extraordinary language of art.
A garden house of love.
The sound of gentle sunlight.
The journey of shadows. Endless. Without end.

The garden of God’s light— his shadow house.
Translated by Alam Mahbub
©® Sohrab Pasha

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