The 85th Edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven.Mother’s day poem.

Hello honorable poets and readers!
It’s The 85th Edition of “Primelore Writer’s Heaven” Just Enjoy.
Dear poets thanks for your poem.
Read now the 85th edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven.
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Thanks all poets and readers.
Now read all poems from below I published for you.

01.
Poem: “Happy Mother’s Day “
Poet: Mary Garde
From: Canada.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

my mother was
not my friend
to the end
she tried to teach me
what I should do
to make me happy
I hardly listened
to what she said
I thought I had it all
in my head
untill I had children
of my own
I never saw
how wise she was
when I needed advice
in my life I realized
how right she was
now I must look to the sky put my hands together
say thank you mom
for all you knew
at least I can say
to my young
your nan had great advice now I thank her
©® Mary Garde

02.
Poem: “Sweet Mother’s Day”
Poet: Afroza Jesmine.
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Hello my sweet mother!
Always we remember you, not a single day;
Proud of you my sweet mother I love you and;
Play with you sleep with you and weak-up with you.
You are my best friend, you are my heart.

Many people asked me, what things you love most?
Ornaments,flowers,birds,rivers,sea,sky,or your friends!
Thanks to all, I love most my dearest nearest and the best friend my Mother.
Have you any question about the best friend?
Every moments I feel only my mother who is my power and she is the;
Rose ! which we called the queen of flowers.
Sweet mother can change our life

Day and night she pray for us;
Always we respect our sweet mother.
Yes we can say, Happy Mother’s Day!
©® Afroza Jesmine

03.
Poem: “My Mother and I”
Poet: Vo Thi Nhu Mai.
From: Australia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

I was a tiny child lost in this human world
My mother held me in her arms and sighed softly

I wandered into the painted days of childhood
My mother smiled and offered me sweet tangerines

I wandered into long evening of falling rains
My mother planted the seeds into the midnight rice fields

I wandered into the castles and princess dreams
My mother pinned a peaceful moon upon my innocent years

I slept deeply, lost in sorrow and longing
My mother’s tears rolled softly onto the fold of her blouse

I bit deeply into the green-apple spell of love
While somewhere a witch had imprisoned my mother away

I waved goodbye, sobbing through my first love
My mother gathered me into her arms and sighed again

I was still the same young lady from long ago
Yet hid from her the day I signed the divorce papers

My mother called from afar, her voice restless with worry
In her dream last night there was a shattered moon

For years I drifted far away from my mother for no reason at all
Gathering sunsets, stumbling against different seasons

At dawn I looked again at my own reflection And saw my mother’s silhouette through the streams of memory I thank heaven and earth for every lullaby that rocks us gently Still binding my mother and me, even half a world apart
©® Vo Thi Nhu Mai

04.
Poem: “YOU ARE THERE”
Poet: Mustafa Naci ÖZER
From: Türkiye.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

In the melodies of the songs I hear,
Within their passion, you are near.
On winding roads where I have gone,
In every step, you linger on.

Within the pages that I read,
Within the flowers’ fragrant breath,
Amid the thoughts inside my head,
In every moment, you are there.

With springtime sun and blooming flowers,
In every melody that showers,
In every glance, in all I do,
In arms stretched wide with dreams of you.

You are the green upon my field,
The ripened fruit my trees now yield,
You are the longing of my soul,
In weary shades, you make me whole.
©® Mustafa Naci ÖZER

05.
Poem: “Water”
Poet: EVA Petropoulou Lianou
From: Greece 🇬🇷
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

We exist
Because
Water is the alpha and omega

Water
We drink life
We drink beauty

We are in harmony with ourselves and the
Planet earth

We are in need
Water water
We called day and
Water water
Our future of prosperity
©® EVA Petropoulou Lianou

06.
Poem: “Birthday Poems for a Slice of Cake”
Poet: turkia loucif.
From: Algeria.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

She composed verses on paper napkins at midnight,
Pressing her tenderness into thirty deliberate lines.
For every birthday the village kept, a poem arrived
Nameless, at their thresholds, scented with ink and rain.
She held that a word could stand as offering
When palms were empty and cupboards bare.
Mothers lifted her lines into the morning air.
Children learned them by heart. Old men murmured,
“Thus we christen our years.”
Then came the girl with a laugh like a brass bell,
She who bartered stanzas for sugar.
She had never known a pen. She knew only the plate.
“Recite for us,” they urged, “and claim the widest slice.”
So she mounted the chair, licked frosting from her thumb,
And gave breath to the midnight napkins as though they were her own.
The poetess sat in the corner, her fingers stained indigo,
Watching her labor sweetened, portioned, and swallowed.
No one inquired after the sower of words.
They applauded only the mouth that served them warm.
Still, the poetess wrote. It was a quiet affliction,
This necessity to forge meaning for strangers.
Still, the other girl ate. It was a keener hunger,
This necessity to be witnessed without wounding.
One evening, the poetess left a blank leaf at a door.
The village kept vigil. The cake hardened to stone.
The girl of the plate attempted an aria of her own.
But silence is not a sonnet one can counterfeit.
They turned at last to the corner, to the indigo hands.
She said, “Kindness is not currency. It is a country.
And you have dwelled here without a passport.”
Bio: Turkia Loucif is an Algerian writer, novelist, and cultural journalist. Author of The Legend of Sinjabi, Virginia Park, Aboud Cannot Bear the Whip, and The Dance of the Puppets. Recipient of The Squirrel Statue Award. Her writing explores trauma, loss, and rebirth with rare psychological depth.
©® turkia loucif.

07.
Poem: “MY MOTHER… THE FEAST OF ALL FEASTS”
Poet: TAGHRID BOU MERHI
From: LEBANON – BRAZIL
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Mother…
O feast of all feasts,
O door of longing that never closes in the heart.

Mother’s Day arrives
knocking on the doors of yearning,
and you are there…
where the earth embraced you
four years ago,
yet within myself I still whisper:
Happy Mother’s Day, in my heart.

Your body has gone,
but your soul
remains a shade over my days,
walking beside me in the smallest details:

In the scent of coffee
rising like a dawn prayer,
in the warmth of the kitchen
when longing ignites,
in the bread oven
that resembled your heart
wide… and tender…

How many hearts today
stand on the edge of longing,
carrying a silent ache
searching for a mother’s smile,
for a hand that wipes away fatigue,
for a voice that calls a name
and turns the world into safety.

And when our children say,
“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom,”
we smile…
hiding the lump of loss in our throats.
We realize how she once
hid her weariness behind her smile,
how her giving
was a river that expected no thanks.

Mother…
your feast is an endless prayer,
and a love
that never dies.
©® TAGHRID BOU MERHI

08.
Poem: “Balcony”
Poet: Latifa Harbaoui
From: Algeria.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

On the balcony
I think of how to turn this bucket of water
into a flowerpot
to plant my mother’s face in it.
My mother, whom I buried an hour ago,
my mother, whom everyone saw watering time
at the forbidden hour
with my tears.
My mother, who has just emerged shyly
from the cliff of water,
so as not to rob the cloud of its right,
so the mosquitoes would not roam
over the corpses of those to be buried after her,
those whose funerals no one will attend,
just like hers,
and so that no orphan dies of thirst.
I still think
of how to turn the balcony
into a garden with more than one fence,
into a gallery of smoke,
into a space for stammering grief,
into a slanted horizon
from which I look down upon your grave.
The smell of disinfectant reaches me,
and I wither.

On the balcony
I somersault all day long,
I practice dieting and yoga the wrong way,
I turn my frail body into a swing for time,
a lighter,
and an ashtray for my dead father’s cigarettes.

From the balcony
I read the details of bendings,
I discovered that the back of the tree will never straighten,
that the nest has no identity,
that there are no birds nearby,
and that the soil is not my mother.

From the balcony
you can twist the arm of vision,
accuse the distance between above and below,
between a suspicious star
and a climbing abyss,
you can sever the head of light
with the gaze of a blind man,
be frugal in consuming electricity,
and call the shadow
my mother.

On the balcony
I spent twenty days
like a suspect,
taking aspirin
and vitamin D,
searching on Google for “chloroquine,”
for a lie to believe in so I could sleep.

On the balcony,
despite the fever,
I still think
about how the world will become without my mother.
©® Latifa Harbaoui

09.
Poem: “Mother, Where Goodbye Had No Shape”
Poet: Paula Oliveira
From: Portugal
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

There was no Mass filled with voices,
no hands speaking your name in prayer.
The world was closed by fear,
and your farewell fit inside a cold silence
that no one knew how to break.

You left in the loneliness imposed by time,
that cruel time of masks and distance,
where even love had to learn
how to say goodbye from afar.

Only me… and your granddaughter.
Two small presences before an immense absence.
And the closed coffin, too tightly closed,
as if even death were afraid
to reveal the truth.

I began to doubt.
If you were truly there…
if that silence sealed within the wood was you,
or merely an idea
they allowed me to believe.

There was no final glance.
No last touch of farewell.
Only the question that still pierces me today:
how do you say goodbye
to someone you cannot watch leave?

You were cremated, as you wished,
and perhaps there you found peace.
But I remained with the ashes —
not as an ending,
but as a presence that refuses to leave.

I keep you at home,
not beneath the cold earth that covers and erases,
but in a space where I still speak to you softly,
where I still feel you near,
as though the world had never managed
to take you completely away from me.

And on Mother’s Day,
the emptiness carries your name.
It is not merely absence —
it is a living longing,
breathing beside me every single day.
©® Paula Oliveira

10.
Poem: “COME TO PEACE”
Poet: ADALET EROĞLU
From: Azerbaijan. 🇦🇿
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Come to peace, people,
Let the weapons be silent today.
Enough kind words to the hearts,
Let’s not shed blood today.

Come to peace, people,
Enough, these wars.
Tears have become a sea,
The heart cannot bear it, it slows down…

Come to peace, people,
The earth smells of death and blood.
The mountains cannot bear this pain,
It sings hatred for humanity.

Come to peace, people,
Enough of the unjustly shed blood,
The mountains are torn apart by the sound of groans,
Blood is being shed unjustly.

Come to peace, people,
What is this summer, what is this war?
Man is the enemy of man,
He slowly loses his conscience.

Come to peace, people,
Man is an enemy to man,
This world is not hell,
Why have we become executioners, enemies?

Come to peace, people,
The mother’s sigh rises to the throne,
Makes the mountain and stone speak,
Stop this war.

Come to peace, people,
The world drowns in blood,
A drop of mercy is enough,
Justice will achieve truth!!!
Bio: PEOPLE’S POET OF TURAN Member of the TYB, AYB and AJB Jurist, poet, publicist Gafarov Adalat Izzet oglu (EROĞLU)

11.
Poem: “THE NEW EDITION”
Poet: SHAIP Z. ZEQIRI
From: ALBANIA
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Every new edition
Searches the best solution.
There are so many explorings,
As flowers on the spring.

The wishes and hopes from all the world,
What they feel and people need,
Poets express their sincere word.
It’ s valuable indeed!

Let’ s bring so many ideas as possible,
To change this situatin that looks terrible…
People to have at last equality,
Freedom , peace and humanity.
©® SHAIP Z. ZEQIRI.

12.
Poem: “Be kind but don’t be blind..”
Poet: Ayesha Imran
From: Pakistan 🇵🇰
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

is it your poem?
Don’t be perfect with folks
be kind.
While being kind don’t be
blind.

Discover a folk with a adrift
and split mind.
In their hidden struggles,
true beauty you will find.
©® Ayesha Imran

13.
Poem: “BEAUTIFUL!”
Poet: Bertha Galán
From: Bolivia.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Art that dances in the firmament
silent hymn that the soul reveals,
You bloom at the touch of the lunar cold
with subtle elegance…
of bougainvillea surrendered to the wind.

You come from a trail of ancient light
Woven into the map of constellations,
and diamond in the genesis of the universe,
Your voice builds celestial gardens…
with threads of grace and strength.

Beautiful with an eloquent gaze
lotus root, candor of a thousand flowers.
While walking, without knowing it,
You are tattooing eternal fragrances
in the air that the world breathes.

From your lineage springs the fire
your voice, palace of open doors,
Your gestures, the legacy of a sovereign.
They boldly germinate the future
and you surrender the past to gratitude.

You are the flower that knows no sunset
living presence of the Divine Throne;
You carry eternity within time…
and a paradise of roses in the soul.
©® Bertha Galán

14.
Poem: “A Microcosm of My Spring Vibes:”
Poet: Ahmed Farooq Baidoon
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Those velvet green meadows replete with such muse – an iceberg of a dream,
My ardent stamina to keep moving on – let alone a gleam,
My wintry bed of phantom shadows imbued overhead,
That hectic scorching sun rays never touched my blossoms on bed,
That chandelier of my celestial limbo has stereotyped oddity,
Those marble stars dancing at a glance of smirking banter,
That dungeon in my seascape – be it a countdown of melodious chanter,
The tempestuous trumpet of morbid lovely spring shall beat,
How come those lilies beguile of tears due to tug of warry heat!
Adieus and Farewell! my foray of melancholic fleet,
Spring advent was my promising want,
To rid me of that enchanted haunt,
The throes of dying branches of oak shall come to an irrevocable dearth,
Behold-such ravishing sensuous outdoor nook on Earth,
A new mirror reflecting psalms and cuckoos of sparrows, Those buzzing bees turning the arid petrified heart into morrow,
Those withered quill of my scripture drove away profane parchment of sorrow,
That mighty spring with chastity and purgatory, I can’t tell,
Those misled humankind folks were once at loss- a trance,
Deadly sins of pride, lust, envy, greed and gluttony – seize the chance,
An aura of positive telepathic vibes manifest clear – what a stance!
My endeared spring of love and longing, my homeland,
Kindly come at once, my skiff awaiting your command.
©® Ahmed Farooq Baidoon

15.
Poem: “A DRIZZLE OF LOVE “
Poet: Parvinder Nagi
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

In the hush of your love,
I softly fall
Like rain that answers a silent call
Each drop of you upon my skin
Feels like a world awakening within
I dance in dreams where you reside
Lost in the warmth I cannot hide
Your nearness lingers in every air
A gentle touch I feel everywhere When breezes brush through strands of me
I close my eyes and let them be free
For in that moment, I truly find
Your tender presence around my mind Let this drizzle of love remain
Through every joy, through every pain
Soaked in you, my soul shall stay
In endless love, come what may.
©® Parvinder Nagi

16.
Poem: “Night silence vision.”
Poet: Amb. Dr. Tomasz Laczek
From: LUTON UK 🇬🇧
Primelore published Date: Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Silver ink pen wet
These words outlined in silver
The pen will creak on the paper
Writing at night in a letter an animal
In the silence of the night, deeply listened to
I write sitting deep in thought
A vision suddenly appears to me
In which I am and I observe

Beautiful starry night
The air of the forest is so clean
I’m standing on a hill surrounded by trees
In the silence of nature’s sleep lifted up

Suddenly the trees fall with a bang
Burning with living fire they fall apart
Some figure in black hooded
Who’s going to be a terrified thought

She stopped in front of me without saying a word
She held something dark in her hands
I look and this is the body of a charred bird
I looked at the face of the figure saddened

This is what your Peace looks like today
He interrupted, looking at me carefully
What happened to the trees
It is hatred that will do to you

This is the last warning for you
For the suffering of the innocent, disregard
Through your selfishness and anesthesia
You cross the boundaries of self-destruction

There will be no more warnings
The Rider of Doom will come for you
If there are no feelings of purity in you
There will be no mercy for you

Turn to truth and love
For the good of all mankind
Out of love you have all risen
You should give your life to her

The light in his hands flashed
A white dove flew to the sky
The figure disappeared, the forest was the forest again
Meanwhile, the dawn began to rise

I looked down on everything
The beauty of the world and nature
I felt the warmth of the rays of love
So I went in the direction of clarity
Author’s letter:
In today’s time of great chaos, without the path of truth, pure love and higher feelings, and a return to true values, Peace in the World will only be a great fiction.
©® Amb. Dr. Tomasz Laczek

17.
Poem: “MY SOUL ON THE EDGE OF FREEDOM”
Poet: Somdatta Mitra.
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

In slow sighs the breath pumps to a quiet rhythm of becoming ,
In perplexity , in indecision my soul feels insecured.
A refined state , it’s cathartic depressions released ,
A purity sensed in the edge of freedom .

The old weight falls like dust of an old book ,
Redefining a new born self who dares to walk into light ,
without asking for permission.
A buoyant soul thus emanate from the time no longer echoing the crisis ,
But speaking the voice of change.

It’s winging towards an unplanned destination , pushing me through , insisting , inspiring exploration ,
Bridging the scars that left their thorns.
If I feel I’m throwing a bucket full of water over it ,
The sensuousness seem to refuse to be drowned ;
Rising back as steam and memory.

Often a discord between me and my soul ,
like two strings tuned to different notes,both sounding in the same room.
Steadfast like a wind and a lighthouse beam –
Unseen in force , but never shifting it’s direction.

It clasps on the truth , the bitterness of that truth never breaking me ,
only making the seeing clearer.
I just wonder , what will happen when im not living ,
When the flame is gone and the wind carries only ash.
©® Somdatta Mitra

18.
Poem: “Anthem of the Cosmic Dust”
Poet: Ahmed Aziz El-Din Ahmed.
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

My homeland, a banner fluttering in the galaxy
No star has strayed, and the dust is its guide
It is the pulse of a universe residing in the ribs
And the face is its mirror and path
From the clay of our ancestors, our souls were forged
So that we, and time itself, are rooted in it
Its footsteps wove a tale upon the sands
And it spoke in silence, saying
This dust, if it calls you, the letters will respond within you And you are a guest within it
So walk the veins to it without hesitation
For the pulse from you to it is a long rope
O homeland, O mirror of dreams of the horizon
In you, childhood and time are beautiful
In you, poems still shine
And in you, the voice of visions chants
We walk on the embers of the path, and our hearts
Are sheltered by you, and the suffering is little
If the world becomes narrow for us For a moment
For with your hidden love, the heavy burden is lifted
And if our dreams bend in their winds
You are certainty, and all else fades away
We are those who, when we belong, become
The meaning of eternity, and our being is interpretation
O homeland, do not fear time, for we are
In every heart, a wick of your protection
We protect your roots with tears of dignity
And we safeguard your dream, and the tears are torrents
What Between heartbeat and belonging, my story unfolds

With you, the beginning and destiny are the path
My homeland, even if our steps falter for a while
We will return, for the ancient covenant is sufficient
For you, in our ribs, are pulpits and minarets
And with you, the great anthems lengthen
So raise us towards the heavens, proclaiming God’s greatness
No heart that inclines towards your love
will ever be disappointed
©® Ahmed Aziz El-Din Ahmed

19.
Poem: “Live in the Moment”
Poet: Lan Xin
From: China.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

The Dongba scriptures write of eternal lives
Gods mountains rivers trees all beings
Each has its destined time
Even gods grow old
teeth yellow hair turns white

There is no elixir of immortality on earth
Only love can heal the world
This is true eternity

Human life is short
no more than a hundred years
Most pass by in decades
Like dreams illusions shadows

All gains will eventually leave
Only the present is real to hold
Let go of the past
do not fear the future
Cherish the moment
love with all your heart

Live in the moment
be free and joyful
A life without regret
is the truest wisdom of all
©® Lan Xin

20.
Poem: “My Doll Mom”
Poet: Luo Qianxuan
From: China.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Translated by Lan Xin（Lanxin Samei）
My dearest Mom
When you are not by my side
The doll you gave me
Becomes my only longing
It carries your kiss from the day you left
Holds the warmth of your gentle touch
Keeps the love in your affectionate gaze
In this moment, it is Mom
It must be my “Mom”

By day, I hold “Mom” tightly
Afraid of losing her even for a second
Just as you always hold me gently
In your arms each day
Protecting me from any harm
At mealtime
I look at “Mom” as I eat
As if I see your warm, expecting eyes
I will eat well
So you will not worry
At bedtime
I let “Mom” rest in my arms
Cheek to cheek, softly
And carefully tuck her in with a blanket
Just as you lie beside me
Tucking me in again and again at midnight

On cold nights
I fear “Mom” will catch cold
I breathe warm air onto her little hands
And cup her icy feet in my palms

I dare not breathe too hard
Afraid of waking “Mom”
You work so hard every day
I want to let “Mom” sleep a little longer
Just as you always watch over me quietly
Letting me sleep sweetly in your loving gaze

My dearest Mom
You brought me into this world
You said you wanted to give me
The best of the whole world
But do you know —
You are my whole world
You are my most beautiful world

The farthest distance on earth
Is the distance between you and me
The longest time in the world
Is every second spent apart from you

Even if there are thousands of lights shining far and wide
Only where Mom is
Is my home
Where Mom is
Is my happiest home!
Compose Write to Lan Xin
©® Luo Qianxuan

21.
Poem: “Phoenix Nirvana”
Poet: Wan Yilong
From: China.
Translated by Lan Xin (Lanxin Samei)
It is a messenger from the divine realm
Where it arrives
There is light
There is love
There is peace

It dwells only on emerald parasol trees
Revealing its holy figure

It feeds only on diamond clear bamboo fruits
It drinks only crystal pure spring water
It flies only to the nine heavens filled with rosy clouds

Where it sings
The world is full of hope

This planet has endured disasters
Trapped in plunder
Suffering and wars

All beings are tempered in suffering
Awakened in darkness

Bathing in fire is the inevitable pain
Tempering is the prelude to rebirth

One day
The golden phoenix will nirvana and soar in blazing flames
Atone with flesh and blood
Transform with soul
Purify the world with holy light
Guard all beings with great love

The old body turns to ashes
The new life shines over the nine heavens

The earth returns to peace
Humanity awakens to new life
All things harmonize
Eternal light
©® Wan Yilong

22.
Poem: “Fall of the Feather”
Poet: Muammar Al-Sufyani
From: Yemen
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

When betrayal begs you to paint me on its wall
You will not be an artist.
Because the paint is dark intent
And the one walking across the portrait
Is you.
©® Muammar Al-Sufyani

23.
Poem: “Seeking Ethical Surgery by Words:”
Poet: Til Kumari Sharma.
From: West Nepal
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Words are great weapons on the earth.
Inside artistic words,
doctors of science often experimented and failed.
Words count the spiritual vision.
Words of artists count the ethics of head and body.
Sometimes science misrepresents the artistic world.
A wide and kind heart can lead the whole human world.
A strong head can manage the ethics of all.
So, art is wider and more energetic than the scientific world.
Science is not in perfection today.
So, the life of art and artists is genuine and moral today.
©® Til Kumari Sharma

24.
Poem: “In Each Other’s Presence”
Poet: Dominique Erecilla Albano
From: Philippines 🇵🇭
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Soft paws rest beneath gentle hands.
Warm fire glows, hearts beat together.
Eyes close, peace settles in quiet.
Souls whisper, love lingers in breath.
Laughter spills, cups clink, stories rise.
Friends share dreams, hopes spark in air.
Hands clasp, waves sing, sunset embraces.
Memories glow, love endures beyond night.
©® Dominique Erecilla Albano

25.
Poem: “The Principal’s Silence”
Poet: Anil Kumar Mishra
From: Ranchi,India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

I ring the bell for a thousand minds,
and watch young dreams take patient flight;
in rows of hope,in ink and lines,
I guide their days,I shape their sight.

But when the dusk returns me home,
where softer voices ought to be,
A stranger greets me in my own—
My son,untouched by legacy.

“Why read..,” he says,“when screens can show?
Why turn the pages when I can swipe?
Why search in books so old and slow,
When answers bloom with just a type?”

His words are sharp,yet calmly dressed,
A logic born of modern flame;
But somewhere deep within my chest,
A silent grief begins to claim.

For I have seen what books can do,
They make a man from scattered clay,
They teach the heart what’s false or true,
They light a soul that won’t decay.

A phone may tell but not transform,
It feeds the mind but starves the soul;
It gives the facts in tidy form,
But never makes a broken whole.

I stand defeated,not in class,
But in the home I thought was mine;
Where values taught to crowds en masse
Fail to cross this fragile line.

O irony,so deeply cast
A principal with head held high,
Whose lessons shape the future vast,
Yet cannot reach his own child’s sky.
And so I sit with books in hand,
Their pages whispering soft and wise;
Still hoping he might understand
The depth no glowing screen supplies.
©® Anil Kumar Mishra

26.
Poem: “Mother Earth”
Poet: Selim Boumerdas
From: France.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

Mother of all,
nurturer,
breast for everyone,
with no distinction of colours
or races,
you are the breath,
you give life.

You have wiped our tears,
which you turn into rain
to make your beauty shine forth
unadorned, already perfect.

You calm our hearts,
you soothe our fears.
You have cherished us,
heaped us with riches,
expecting nothing in return.

Generous Mother,
like a ray of sunlight,
night‑light
for the darkest nights,
your landscapes lift
our gazes and our eyes.

You have given us
so much love without a second thought,
for those who know.
But I, I fear your anger,
for man takes advantage
of your charms
and of your tenderness.

Then Poseidon
or a meteorite will strike,
inexorably,
and the end is certain…
©® Selim Boumerdas

27.
Poem: “Nostiglia”
Poet: Allahobhayo Dal.
From: Karachi Pakistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 12 May 2026.

You departed too soon,
without whisper or farewell,
and sleep embraced you beneath the silent dunes.

I was unprepared,
my hands still tender,
to bear the weight of burdens not yet ripened.
Together we had woven dreams,
threads of hope shimmering in the loom of tomorrow.
You promised flowers to adorn my hair,
and journeys to the valley where silence sways
beneath the full moon’s gentle gaze.

But loss came like a tempest,
and I was not ready to drink from its bitter cup.
My eyes remain drenched,
and at night I behold your image upon the wall—
your children awaken, calling “Baba,”
and fear trembles within me.

Tears descend,
pearls rolling upon my cheeks,
for you have left me to steer the cart of sorrows alone.

Yet I am steadfast,
a woman of resolve.
I shall meet the trials,
and one day your spirit shall rejoice,
when your children rise like stars,
their light proclaiming your name.
©® Allahobhayo Dal

Thanks to all participants of Primelore.