We celebrate a monumental diamond milestone with the 75th edition.

Just WOW! edition.

Dear poets and readers, It’s the special 75th edition of Primelore Writer’s Heaven. In this edition we got 100 poems for our readers. ​We celebrate a monumental diamond milestone with the 75th edition of this cherished literary sanctuary. ​This special volume gathers the finest words in the Primelore community, weaving a tapestry of profound storytelling. ​Every poems reflects a legacy of artistic excellence, honoring the dedication and passion of our global poets. ​It stands as a testament to the power of the written word, turning a shared vision into a timeless masterpiece. ​We toast to 75 chapters of inspiration, growth, and the enduring magic of Primelore Writer’s Heaven. Just read all poems from below, Conquer the flavor of poetry.
Send your poem to our email:
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2. Poem name:
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5. Short Bio.
Of course mention the edition number.

All new poets are welcome. Each new poet can submit three poems for free. After your free submission please buy your membership to continue your submission of poem. Your contribution can help to grow the magazine “Primelore Writer’s Heaven.” Thanks all. ​

100 Poems for all.

01.
Poem: “Long Journey”
Poet: Afroza Jesmine.
From: Bangladesh.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I am saying Alhumdulillah!
It’s a long journey for us.
I started the journey from Bangladesh.
I know it’s starting sweet moments;
I feel from my heart.
But I don’t know where the journey will stop,
I don’t know which is the last station of collecting poems.

It’s my love journey,
Will you give your hands?
If we go together,
The journey shall never ends.

I am saying Alhumdulilla!
More poets sent me their poems,
My heart is filled with joy,
Though the editing work is very difficult,
I know one day it will grow baby to adult.

I got more loves with more poems,
You all touched my heart,
Primelore Writer’s Heaven.
Nobody help me besides my Almighty;
I am trying to spreads your poems,
From Bangladesh to World.
We are only poet,
Who love poetry,

I am doing hard work,
Only for peoples love,
I am thanking all poets and readers.
In this special edition ;
I published 100 poems,
And celebrating this 75th Special edition for all.

It’s really a long journey,
I know and feel the starting moments of it,
But I don’t know the last station of,
Primelore Writer’s Heaven.
©® Afroza Jesmine.

02.
Poem: “THERE MUST BE SOMEONE”
Poet: Mustafa Naci ÖZER.
From: Türkiye.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

There must be someone to love,
whose nearness brings you peace above.
There must be someone to adore,
to pour your heart’s pure spring once more.
There must be someone, warm and true,
whose eyes reveal the world to you;
whose smile brings joy to all your days,
whose words bring calm in gentle ways;
whose dimple blooms like flowers bright,
and fills your soul with sweet delight.
There must be someone, kind and fair,
who gives each moment meaning rare;
whose songs grow tall, whose tunes entwine,
whose gaze holds heaven’s grand design;
whose smile turns angel, soft and kind,
and folds you in her wings, confined.
There must be one who loves you deep,
whose touch can wake your heart from sleep;
who adds new life to all you are,
and lights your path, your guiding star.
There must be someone — it’s true —
whose very being’s life for you;
who loves beyond both soul and bone…
There must be one — and only one.
©® Mustafa Naci ÖZER

03.
Poem: “BLOOMING”
Poe: Vo Thi Nhu Mai.
From: Australia.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

When the weight stay
And the day sits heavily in the chest
It is the hand that reaches for light
With what intention I do not know

But I have known the seasons
When grief wrapped itself around my ribs
Like careful bandages tight enough to remind
I was still here but as if
Each movement required permission

Every joy had to wait for its turn
Somewhere between the folds of restraint
A scent returned: faint, clean and persistent
From the blossoms opening
On a tree that not being watered for a long while

Petal by petal the heart relearned its work
To hold what hurts but keep it tender
When the world asks what survives the pressure
I speak of fragile flowers and resurrections

What blooms is the simple stubborn act
The biggest smile of encouragement from him
The childhood remained purely in our heart
Long enough for difficulties to push through
©® Vo Thi Nhu Mai.

04.
Poem: “Kindness”
Poet: EVA Petropoulou Lianou.
From: Greece 🇬🇷
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

We leave in time that is important to have peace
Peace of mind
Peace inside us
Women give to your children
Good manners
Learn to your daughter and sons to be kind
To say thank you
And please

Kindness is the most important thing
We need more kind and good people
©® EVA Petropoulou Lianou.

05.
Poem: “FROM WHICH CREVICE DOES THE ANTHEM SEEP?”
Poet: TAGHRID BOU MERHI.
From:LEBANON – BRAZIL.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

From which crack in the rock does this anthem seep into my chest?
All these hills that loom above my ribs
as if they were a tent of wind that never folds,
preserving my shadow and recognizing the sound of my steps
whenever I pass alone among their stones.

All those ancient rifles sleeping in the ancestors’ chests
awaken when my name calls me and shine within my blood,
as though asking for a final confession.

My blood is not entirely red;
within it lies the dust of fields and the scent of unharvested wheat,
and the echo of a mother who hid her fear in her braid
and said: the earth is faithful.

In my satchel I carry the keys of ruined houses,
letters that never arrived,
and a little sea salt
so longing will not decay.

From shepherds I learned how to befriend silence,
and from the moon how to leave a luminous scar
upon my darkness.

My flute is not a reed;
it is a broken rib trying to breathe,
and whenever language tightens around me,
I open a window in the air
so my voice may pass without a name.

Beneath my head I hide the wood of an ancient olive tree,
carving my letters into it
as a farmer counts the names of his failed seasons.

There are also
my grandfather’s footsteps in the mud,
my mother’s shawl
when she postponed her tears,
and the traces of a cat that fled a shell
and entered my poem.

I fear spiders may weave a ceiling of illusion
and leave me suspended between two threads;
therefore I clap for the wind
to unsettle forgetfulness.

My pillow is a stone,
yet every evening
it opens for me the door of a hidden well
whose water whispers my name unseen by anyone else.

So where does poetry come from?
From the fatigue of soil in my veins?
Or from a wind that found no field and planted me instead?

I know only how to listen.
I write because the mountain needs a throat,
and I dream because wars mistake my address
whenever they search for a victim.

Thus the anthem leaps from between my eyelashes
like a bird escaping a trap,
and says to me:
Write,
so the stone will not fall upon your heart once again.
©®TAGHRID BOU MERHI.

06.
Poem: “Loaded Burden:”
Poet: Til Kumari Sharma.
From: Nepal
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Alienation is the best to survive.
To live in family is disturbed position.
I cannot maintain my time enough in family.
My sister- in – laws always are angry when I did not give time much to do work in home.
They never wish my time to be productive.
So, I have to live alone to be artist.
The most dangerous enemy is family.
They never invest energy and encouragement in my writing.
The real torture begins from birth home.
So, to live alone is healing source of life.
The real life begins from tragic path.
The real pain starts from tearful eyes.
My art exists not from family help.
They always attempt to enslave me.
My writing pauses when I am in family.
The children of sister-in-laws make my videos of discussion to make me infamous.
So, the most dangerous enemies are in the family.
This is my history at home.
They never care and love to me rather they give torture.
©® Til Kumari Sharma.

07.
Poem: “Dedicated to My Sister”
Poet: Aziza Xasanova
From: Uzbekistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Bright eyes, sweet words that warm my heart,
Helpful, kind, a truly blessed part.
A gift from God, a joy so true,
My sister’s presence lights my view.
I’d never trade her for a million,
For me, she’s always my safe pavilion.
A confidant, a gentle guide,
With my sister, I walk with pride.
Two drops alike, yet hers is mine,
Always there when I need a sign.
Sweet-voiced angel, radiant and near,
My sister’s presence brings me cheer!
©® Aziza Xasanova

08.
Poem: “Nature”
Poet: Juraeva Aziza Rakhmatovna.
From: Uzbekistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Nature adorned the world with many flowers,
Green entered the world with vibrant powers.
Rainbows decorated the blooming blooms,
Drops rose gently in the morning’s rooms.
Children joyfully played in the sun,
Waters flowed, singing as they ran.
All creatures thrived with lively cheer,
Meadows and pastures full of life appear.
©® Juraeva Aziza Rakhmatovna.
Bio: Juraeva Aziza Rakhmatovna was born on March 26, 2000, in Uzbekistan. She graduated from Kokand University in 2023 with a degree in Primary Education. In 2022, she was included in the almanac “100 Leading Students of Uzbekistan.” In the same year, she became a recipient of the iBook.uz scholarship. Her articles and poems have been published in Turkey and South Korea.

09.
Poem: “House of March”
Poet: JoyAnne O’Donnell .
From: Maryland, US.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

March is a new doorway to open
It has great morning sunlight,
The sunlight glittered in my window,
In the kitchen, lighting up my day
to starting a fresh array
From the blue sky
It is waiting for land, to mend growth,
for something great to begin
St. Patrick’s Day is in March
A great flash of green.
©® JoyAnne O’Donnell

10.
Poem: “we have power”
Poet: Mary Garde
From:
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

we are the trees we are the bees we network through the earth connected naturally
help us better understand what this means how we effect everything that is

we are the essence of life we are the
influencers of it all

we must spread good to make the earth thrive survive
we don’t need to be the distruction of it all cleanse reward good will discourage hatred evil
thoughts
children need to know we want them to grow we need to feed the world so we can see the

rewards that come from
helping one another

look up to the sky how beautiful the blue what joy to see each year come along with hope
to make us better
©® Mary Garde.

11.
Poem: “A PERMANENT WRITER”
Poet: Shaip Zaquir Zaqiri
From: Albania
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

We have real spring in our heart,
Nothing can be lost so long,
We continue to be smart
And trust so hard on our lovly God.
So long we are looking for human’ s right,
No one cab bow us lefts or on the right.
We have just the straight aim,
No one to be discriminated and blame.
It doesn’ t matter in which continent…
We write our lines to be permanent!
©® Shaip Zaquir Zaqiri.

12.
Poem: “I UNDERSTOOD FROM YOUR EYES!!!”
Poet: Yahya Azeroğlu.
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

That you drew inspiration from the fire of love,
I understood from your poetic eyes,
That you set fire to the desert of my soul,
I understood from your poetic eyes,
Did passionate love enter your heart?
I couldn’t see the courage of your heart,
The sorrow that looks at the paths of hope,
I understood from your poetic eyes,
The posture of your charming figure,
This is how our past came about,
The smile that crystallized on your lips,
I understood from your poetic eyes,
While planning the wedding of the future,
We couldn’t untie the knot that was tied the wrong way,
What you were thinking of me,
I understood from your poetic eyes.
Turning your head towards me,
You made your crescent-shaped eyebrows dance,
This is your last glance at Azeroğlu,
I understood it from your poetic, colorful eyes…
Note: Taken from my book “Under the Red Flag”.
©® Yahya Azeroğlu

13.
Poem: “Probability”
Poet: Abdel Latif Moubarak
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The wheat stalks breathe you in,
Braid your letters for the evenings.
And stir your songs the day they met
Upon his face, the silence… the flock of stillness.
Depart to where we began our journey,
Indeed, the streams hold but fragments.
To a time squandered,
Forgive my death when I choose you,
To the mercy of the devout, in protest,
To the dwelling of the wound,
The distance of desolation.
And your endurance was to borrow
From the star, the day of collapse’s rituals.
Within you, the debasement of poems eludes,
Towards the sunrise.
And you quiet above some plains
The languages of apprehension,
In your sailing times.
You soothe the blaze of solitude… cities,
And pour into the eye the tears of reunion,
Branches from the beginning we were,
For the land of severance.
We carry to it the beseeching letters,
To write in love,
The beloved’s spinning song.
And you still swear by the earthquake,
So as to prepare a new homeland,
Which the questions lost in their lament,
And the impossible bolted its gates
With bursts of time that began to depart.
You never left the harvests of remembrance,
That we were quenching.
With your silence, visions will not overflow
The boundaries of emptiness.
And we…
Are in vain.
©® Abdel latif Moubarak

14.
Poem: “DO NOT LIVE JUST TO EXIST”
Authoress: HONG NGOC CHAU (Nguyen Chinh)
From: Vietnam 🇻🇳
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Like a moving shuttle, time goes quickly
Time has passed for many years already
I still remember the lesson of being a human
It’s a golden exemplary frame of the ancients

Advising us not to live as grass or plant
We live with thoughts, dreams and
How to live for having a useful purpose
If not, life would be superfluous, it’s so

Have you known yet the why of reasoning?
Of course, The Creator gives birth to everything
Amazingly! Only humans have an intelligent clue
For managing and perceiving the natural rule

The natural rule or the Law of Nature is one
Observing around you understand at once
As water originates from the ocean there
To become clouds floating everywhere

To become rains pour down on mountain slopes
Following streams in the land in their scopes
Then running into the seas through rivers
Such a rotation keeps continuing forever

Such a rotation is also for humans, you see
To reproduce, grow up continually
From this generation to the others
To live for the present including the future

After our generation, sure we have descendants
What will they inherit from us as precedent?
Is it right that we live a useful life?
As sunbeams help flowers bloom nice

So we live not just for existence
As lifeless things but to invent
To create for life more comforts
For the future more civilized – more…
©® HONG NGOC CHAU (Nguyen Chinh)
Bio: Her true name is NGUYEN CHAU NGOC DOAN CHINH. Her pen name is HONG NGOC CHAU. She is a Master of Education Management, a member of the Ho Chi Minh City Writers Association (Vietnam) and an Honorary Doctor of Literature and Humanities of the Church and the University of Prixton. Executive member of W.U.P (World Union of Poets), General Council of the World Union of Poets with SILVER MEDAL for Researcher (14th medal of the World Union of Poets), VISHWA BHARATI Associate – India (Vishwabharati Research Center), International Ambassador of the International Council of Writers & Artists, Administrator, Coordinator, Group Expert of many literary forums around the world;

15.
Poem: “FOR THOSE WHO REMAIN”
Poet: Patti Woosley
From:
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

He lived a good life. His friends loved him so,
and we cried many tears at his time to go.
He was the center of all life had to give;
a loving husband, father, son, brother and friend.
Our Mama’s favorite child, and yes, we all knew,
but we forgave Mama because we loved him too.
But time passes by and we start to forget.
Our memories grow dim of all the things that he did.
His devoted young wife found new love with another.
His little boys grew up, their lives to discover.
A Mama who never forgot his birthday.
God’s took her home too, to save her heartbreak.
When one chapter closes, another opens for you.
It’s all in God’s plan to help us get through.
We move on to get over the heartbreak and pain.
A new chapter opens for those who remain.
©® Patti Woosley

16.
Poem: “Conscience and harmony…”
Poet: Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas
From: Taxco, Mexico.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Let us all, day by day, sow
conscience, love, and harmony
with our ink unfurled, illuminating
Peace on its journey in every memory.

Our life’s journey is temporary;
it is in vain to strive for materialism;
may every mind and heart be a haven
of brotherhood, of acts of altruism.

May resilience and purpose not be lacking
in every step we take, wherever we may go;
and in the face of adversity, let us pray, and God
will open paths where we can help everyone.

Conscience and harmony, unfolding
such ideal people in favor of brotherhood,
are within us; let us delve
into the powerful disposition nourished by goodness.

Yes, Conscience and mercy, ingredients of PEACE,
a perfect duo that comes so visibly and thus goes
confronting with so much love all rapacious evil;
it balances, restores, and quickly elevates our self.
©® Alicia de la Paz Ortiz Cuevas
Bio: “My eternal gratitude to Dr. Carlos Hugo Garrido Chalen, Founding President of the Hispanic World Union of Writers, for bestowing upon me such a significant honor.” Silver Poet of Taxco de Alarcón

17.
Poems: “EXPANSION.”
Poet: Ghazala Al-Harizi,
From: Libya
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The mirage oases are expanding.
I plant it winds,
and reap the expelled dust.
Forests are breaking their ancient covenants,
and the lampssleep regressively,
beneath the dead shadows.
All fruits flourish without maturity,
And my hands are minor.
No guard protects the shade forests,
No cold for those crossing the road,
But the wind is hangingout.
Oases are extending,
close to the side of the dream,
Descendingfrom the waterwheel of dryness.
So , who writes the oases history,
that is deep into heartburn,
away from the sun ?
And who covers up the scandals of fading,
and bears from me, the burden of water …?
©® Ghazala elhrizi.

18.
Poem : “Some Words of Gratitude”
Poet: Edna Salona-Labrador
Country: Philippines
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Some Words of Gratitude
I sometimes find the world unfair and bad
Many kinds of people I see all around
Others are proud but some are good and kind
I want to praise the people whose character is grand.

I laud you because you always have a helping hand
All your good deeds will stay forever in my mind
I may not have material things to give you in return
But words of gratitude I have much all the time.

Thanks for the concern from you I have received
Thanks you’re always there to help people in need
May good people like you continue to exist
And because you are godly, you’ll always be blest.
©® Edna Salona- Labrador.

19.
Poem: “To Be an Artist”
Poet: Sangeeta Gupta
From: India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

To be an artist
is to let nature breathe through you,
to dissolve into silence,
to become the sacred void.

Take this vow
you have no limits,
no boundaries,
no chains to hold you.
You are free.

Then endless become the possibilities,
a pledge is born
to turn the impossible into light,
never to compromise,
never to bow before fear.

Desire the unseen
with such pure intensity
that between that longing and your being
nothing else survives.

The journey
from form to formlessness,
from sound to silence,
from self to the sacred.
You were divine
and in seeking yourself,
you had to seek life,
you had to seek truth.

To attain Shiva is possible
simply surrender.
Offer your body, mind, and soul,
let every breath chant His name
until nothing remains,
not even you.

From birth to death,
each moment, each breath
only He,
and no one else.

You are not.
Nowhere.
Only Shiva.

Then
you are Shiva,
you are Truth,
you are Beauty,
you are the Artist.

In surrender,
everything dissolves into stillness
and you become the void itself.

Then
the unseen reveals itself,
the formless takes form,
and creation begins anew.
©® Sangeeta Gupta

20.
Poem: “when the sea is calmer than the stilled thoughts of two
—with permitted dashes—Helen’s birthday poem thank you for Yongbo”
Poet: Helen Pletts.
From: Ingland.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

when the sea is calmer than the stilled thoughts of two,
we take up our paddles and point them towards the harbour.
The rainbows flicker like colours in black oil on the water;
a black you as a still swift’s call, calling to white me as a wavy dove’s sail,
and the sail is also a curved white ear that hears you calling.
And breeze carries the song gently in her cupped hands
around our softness and feathers — smoothing the sea for the little boat;
rainbow colours racing their iridescence towards land before us
Helen Pletts

21.
Poem: “Irises”
Poet: Panagiota P. Lampri.
From: Greece.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The hillside is filled again with purple irises;
each year they bloom on the very same days,
as if in mourning for youth
that unreasonably departs for the beyond,
leaving behind a deep and heavy sorrow.
Silently, with a cleansing grief, the irises lament
as, little by little, their petals unfold.
No outcry – only sacred stillness,
and dew-drops spill like tears each dawn
upon the generous body of their mother, Earth,
who in her embrace has hidden so much youth.
Panagiota P. Lampri.

22.
Poem: “What matters”
Poet: Xrysoula Foufa
From: Greece
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Karma leads the captain
in the life boat
steering the wheel of intention.
Seagulls sign the route
with their voice
regardless of the waking reefs
while the water purifies
whatever looks unsuitable.
The journey continues
using the intention compass.
The road to light lies ahead .
Our fate is weaved
by personal deeds.
©® Xrysoula Foufa

23.
HAIKU
Poet: Maria Tosti
From: Perugia, Italy
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

doodles in the air –
by the river the slow dance
of a dragonfly
©® Maria Tosti

24.
Poem: “SPRING MORNING SCENT”
Author : Bernardete Cavalcanti
Country: Brazil
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

In Spring morning, I wake up early
Listening to a bird song
Sunbeams of the beautiful dawn
Illuminate in my backyard the trees.
The pleasant scent of so many flowers
as well as the humid dewy breeze
Bring colours to my old face
The sweet and musk scent is so strong
Makes me feel in need of affection
and apt to joyfully face the day
Then I said out and clear,
Only for me to hear
“Now there are no more tears”!
My chest is filled with delicious odours
I see so much beauty every day
The memory of a passionate love so true
Embraces me and I feel free without fears
I can feel the unforgettable scent of you
In the deep heart of me!
©® Bernardete Cavalcanti

25.
Poem: “The Song of Rebirth”
Poet: Elli Lagiou
From:Greece.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

From the ashes of dreams
a spark of hope rises.

The flames fall into silence,
leaving the earth stripped bare.

New life whispers softly,
like the first light of dawn.

Nature stirs, breathing once more,
and silence itself
sings the song of rebirth.
©® Elli Lagiou
This poem reflects the quiet power of renewal — the way hope can emerge from loss, and how nature mirrors the inner rebirth of the human soul

26.
Poem: “Coat on Moonlit Days”
Poet: Blerina Pellumbi
From: Albania.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

You are the most important to yourself, my son,
You are spring on rainy days,
You shine like a diamond within my soul,
A warm coat on moonlit days.

Your word is a thunderclap,
It wakes me when sleep is taking me forever,
You set my muscles in motion,
And even when time dies, I rise again.

Your joy is like my very first day,
In this life where you brought me back to life,
You made me a mother in difficult times,
Without you, I would never feel a breath.

Your oak-strong strength makes me climb the peaks of centuries,
To show them how young and how beautiful I am,
I am proud of you; never again am I defeated,
Times no longer have winter, no wind, no frost.
©® Blerina Pellumbi.

27.
Poem: “Time’s water”
Poet: Shah Jehan Ashrafi.
From: India/Mauritius.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Should I watch my face in time’s water
Then erase it with my own fingers?
I’m not my reflection, I’m here
My very self holding a human’s heart.
I breathe and think. And I make wishes by standing on marshy lands…

Everyday brings me a new experience.
Burnt candles leave their light;
They stand proudly on their melted heaps.
They grow taller by burning down.

At times i feel that I’m becoming
Stronger. I observe the unstoppable
Drills and keep moving to look into
Fear’s eyes.
Life is beautiful with its ups and downs.
I become a drop in the ocean’s lap.
Now, I’m the mighty ocean
And drink the waves of life..
©® Shah Jehan Ashrafi
Bio: Shah Jehan Begum Ashrafi was born in U.P., India, and grew up in Mauritius. She studied English and French literature at the University of Mauritius. After completing her postgraduate degree in education at the Mauritius Institute of Education, she taught English, French, and literature in various secondary schools. She wrote several plays for the National Drama Festival in Mauritius. Her first published work is a study guide to Arthur Miller’s play ‘All My Sons’. Writing poetry is her passion, and she is also working on a novel and some short stories. She was on the editing panel of Rajeshwari Chauhan’s novel ‘Daniel’s Diary’. Now the author lives in Canada and wishes to take up other jobs and widen her experience and knowledge. Shah Jehan Ashrafi completed her Master’s degree in English Literature and Creative Writing from the University of Montreal.

28.
Poem: “I love you”
Poet: Ahmed Ibrahim Al-Sheikh
From: Egypt
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

With the words “I love you”
I descend into the depths of the night,
I wash away its unbearable arrogance,
I lift it up
And hang it
On the clothesline of the soul.
I do this so that the world is not weighed down by the heaviness of silence,
and so that I do not leave behind
a heart consumed by sadness.
©® Ahmed Al-Sheikh

29.
Poem: “Mother”
Poet: Tuliyeva Sarvinoz
From: Uzbekistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Drops pierced my throat like arrows,
I cried in longing, silently I cried.
Mother, unable to see your dear face,
I punished myself, stabbing my own heart inside.

Lost in the worries of this world, I forgot you,
Hours scattered, time flew into the air.
Is it not too late now? If I call you,
I look — it was exactly midnight there.

I carry the sorrows of the world on my shoulders,
Yet I do not have your patience, Mother.
If only I could become your little girl again!
I know childhood will never return, Mother.

My time seems to be running out, almost gone,
I will fly back into your embrace.
My soul, my dearest Mother, I myself
Will hold you close, and hold you once more, and again.
©®Tuliyeva Sarvinoz

30.
Poem: “ilence of the Word”
Poet: Jelena Jovanović Jov
From: Serbia.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Without the silence of words,
Everything becomes noisy and chaotic.
The word separates, silence and noise.
Noises make music.
And silence poetry.

In the silence of words
We are eternal dust
On the lips of the Most High.
Who are looking for meaning and purpose.

In the silence of the words of the naked and ashamed.
We remain undefined and alone.
We remain confused and lost.
Crouched and unsanctified.
©® Jelena Jovanović Jov.

31.
Poem: “FOUNTAIN OF DESIRE”
Poet: Maya Milojković
From: Serbia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The water gurgle accepts coins
while wishes are spoken in silence
through the way of prayer.
Desires travel at the speed of thought
to the Universe
who doesn’t know the word NO.
I imagined being a butterfly
Staring at the clear water
which intoxicated my vigilance
from shining golden threads.
I managed to maintain that state of mind,
but the water mirror brought me back to reality.
I’ll throw in a coin next time, so I don’t forget that I’m just a woman.
©® Maya Milojković

32.
Poem: “A word to your hearts “
Poet: Amb. Dr. Tomasz Laczek
From: Luton UK 🇬🇧
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

With words to you people
I want to awaken your consciences
To be like a white pigeon
Purity of hearts became

Souls of the heart purified by tears
The elixir of truth was drunk
In its nobility, it is led by
Love’s voice, feelings, inspired

To have warm hands
In which hope burns
That there may be goodness in hearts
The joy of a child lived forever

To open your minds
Deep reflection was accompanied by
Over its purpose of existence
All life is a creature of us

Understanding the great mystery
Humanity Essence Awakening
Into the community of humanity
To make hearts of great unity

That’s why I’m looking for good
With words I knock on your hearts
In the faith of the heart of hope
Trying to change your hearts

Are you ready for change
Will it get to the heart of the change
Only you decide
Do you want to be a man of goodness

This is the question
A lifetime task for you
It’s time for deep reflections
The flame of good is in each of you
©® Amb. Dr. Tomasz Laczek

33.
Poem: “In the blue of eternity”
Poet: Józef Tomoń
Country: Poland
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

the beauty of love above the sea of ​​flames,
the exuberant sky tempts
with desire,

in the stream flow reflected
pupils,
jasmine flowers,
released with their fragrance,

hot hurricanes rustle in the river of mouth,
in the singing blue of the starry expanse,

muffled sounds in the symphony
of ecstasy,
a grove growing wildly in blissful
numbness,

before eternity passes, the last
desire
to become intoxicated by the moment like a leaf
on a poplar,

to cling unconsciously like a shadow
to the brightness,
and to wrap oneself in a shawl with
hair of amber.
©® Józef Tomoń

34.
Poem: “Where I’m from”
Poet: Iram Ijaz
From: Lahore,Pakistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I’m from a locked door in an abandoned house,
Living for the happiness of others,
Maybe for those whom I love,
Or by facing hardships.

I’m from a forest after the fire,
I see dreams and want to achieve them,
I want to see my family live in luxury ,
I hear within myself “I can do it”.

I’m from a river craving through stone,
I never share my task until they’re done,
I always keep patience, which leads me to good places.

One day, my dream will have a name,
And it sound like home.
©® Iram Ijaz

35.
Poem: “A REALISTIC ONE”
Poet: Dr. Ashok Chakravarthy Tholana
From : India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The eternally erupting fires
The eternally erupting desires,
Drag us away from the nature
…. away from the flowers
…. away from the trees
…. away from the birds and bees
Yes, such a life is it worthful?

As we awake, disappear dreams
Except illusions nothing remains;
The discriminating consciousness
Entwined even with righteousness,
Before the fleeting worldly glitters
Bind us with the invisible fetters
And dump in the mire of ignorance.

Like fantasies in a dreamful state
Desires are transitory to celebrate,
By dawn they melt into emptiness
Leave a vacuum, full of darkness.
Yes, among the species, it’s humans
Whose prized life is a God-gifted ones,
‘A realistic one’ to lead a worthy life.
©® Ashok Chakravarthy Tholana
Bio: Dr. Ashok Chakravarthy Tholana, a gifted poet, writer, and reviewer from Hyderabad, Telangana, India. Dr. Ashok’s journey began with a deep passion for poetry and a commitment to spreading messages of universal peace, world brotherhood, environmental consciousness, and the protection of children’s and human rights. His poetry has achieved a rare distinction, being published in over a hundred countries. Dr. Ashok’s relentless contributions to these causes have earned him numerous prestigious national and international awards, including ten doctorates and countless laurels and commendations. As of now, his poems have been translated to over 40 languages. That apart, his work has garnered applause from notable figures such as Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam, former President of India, Shri Atal Behari Vajpayee, former Prime Minister of India, Bill Clinton, former President of the USA, Queen Elizabeth of Britain, Princess of Wales, and many other esteemed leaders and organizations. Dr. Ashok has authored eleven poetry books, including “Charismata of Poesie,” “The Chariot of Musings,” “Serene Thoughts,” “Twinkles,” “Reflections,” “Altitudes,” “Outlet,” “Horizon,” “Kaleidoscope,” “Vibrant Musings,” and “Yours Poetically.” His literary works reflect his deep understanding of human emotions and his dedication to promoting peace and harmony. In addition to this, Dr. Ashok has translated thirteen spiritual books and four other books from his native Telugu language to English, making these valuable texts accessible to a wider audience. His efforts to promote universal peace have been ongoing for the past two decades, during which he has actively contributed to various initiatives and projects aimed at fostering global harmony and non-violence. This apart, Dr. Ashok’s contributions as a co-author are acknowledged in several significant works, including “Global Peace Science of Spherons,” “Gandhica,” and the “Anti-Nuclear Manifesto.” His dedication to promoting peace and protecting the environment is evident in his participation in events such as the International Day of Peace and World Environment Day, where he has shared his messages through videos and poetry.

36.
Poem: “Living in One’s Own World”
Poet: Yongbo Ma.
From: China.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

“You just go on living in your own world！”
With these words,
a door slams shut in a distant wood.
The fire flickers for a moment,
a thoughtful face brightening and dimming.

With these words,
the planet quickly splits into many more.
On one side lies a desolate sea,
on the other, a barren desert.

Quadrilateral light rises in the night sky,
compressed by an inner reflux,
shifting among several possibilities.

Streets keep branching out
from where he stands,
branching more and more
past every monument they meet.

Night falls like a curtain around his feet,
he is a statue waiting to be unveiled,
magma glowing inside him.
©® Yongbo Ma.

37.
Poem: “ELIXIR”
Poet: Sherife Allko.
From: Albania 🇦🇱
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I miss a little sun today, I don’t have it.
Not even the essence of the rose,
with its unique and rare beauty.

Today I am not the same as yesterday.
Today I woke up quietly,
like the sunbeam that enters without knocking,
into a room tired of the night.

I did not take yesterday’s fear with me,
like Macbeth in the clutches
of black magic,
that tore my soul apart with difficulty.

I left them behind,
at the threshold of old thoughts.
Today I am one step closer to myself.
Wrapped in the vapors of innocent dreams,
a lighter breath,
a clearer thought.

I really miss a little sun,
but the sky shines tonight with stars like burning coals.
Monday is dining with them,
at the table of my soul.

Heaven did not promise me miracles,
but gave me sunshine.
And that is enough.
I am learning not to expect everything from the world,
but to plant something within the garden of my soul.

True, I lack a little sunshine, but
Today I am not the same as yesterday.
Today I am a beginning.
Like raindrops that weave crystal crowns on the earth.
©® Sherife Allko

38.
Poem: “Lost Pieces”
Poet: Sarah Robinson.
From: England
I need to slow everything down that I almost stop,
to find the pieces of me that I’ve lost while walking
around corners.
Time needs to move at a dead man’s pace offering
the opportunity to gather fading memories before
they permanently disappear along with any hope
that still blooms.
Lost in cracks of imperfect pavements and buried
behind familiar walls, shards of me have vanished.
I must dig them all up before they join undesirable
weeds of sharp thorns which become confused in
the camouflage of the undergrowth.
A fortress of hysteria thrives within my gut which
races uncontrollably to my head.
Unable to tame the anger brewing inside, my words
turn harsher and the volume louder.
©® Sarah Robinson

39.
Poem: “When the Rain Learns Your Name”
Poet: Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee.
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The rain arrived softly tonight,not as a storm,
but as a whisper against the window—like your voice
when it forgets the world
and leans only toward me.

Each drop carries a memory.
The sky bends low, pouring silver threads through darkness,stitching earth and heaven together—
as if distance itself
could be mended by longing.

I think of you whenever rain trembles on leaves.
The trees shiver the way I do
when your fingers brush my silence.
Even the wind grows tender,
moving through the night
with the patience of love.

There is something in rain
that understands us—how we fall,how we break into a thousand shining pieces,
yet become whole again
upon touching the ground.

The streets glisten like unsent letters.
Lamps blur into halos.
Time slows, listening to the rhythm on rooftops—that ancient music older than sorrow, younger than desire.

If you were here,
we would not speak much.
We would let the rain write our confession upon the air between us.
Your breath would warm the cold dusk,
and my heart would open
like wet earth
welcoming seed.

Love,
the rain does not ask permission to fall.
It trusts gravity, just as I trust this quiet pull that draws me toward you—
again and again—through every season.

And when the clouds depart
and dawn lifts its pale curtain, the world will shine new-washed and tender.
But somewhere in the fragrance of soil, in the hush after the last drop falls, our love will linger—like rain remembered
on a thirsty sky.
©️®️ Dr. Ratan Bhattacharjee.

40.
Poem : “There is belief in Winter”
Poet : Prabir Kumar Rath.
From: India near Kolkar.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Hail to thee, dear O’
nature, pure is thy rapture.
Peace is there on thy,
breast, Nectar, is there,
on thy Lap.Thanks,
to you one thousand,
Thou art esteemed.
Art thou reverend.
On thy breast, O’ dear’
people,Rest after birth
for years.Thou art always,
remains newest, there is Chang
within.That is the best.

Hail to thee, dear O’
sweet dear Trees losing leaves,
body Gets bent, Cold wind,
sounds North is becoming, prominent.
Everybody, starts to get warmth,
I’m fine, Ok, fit
by my mother. Let
the Winter Come.We all
will enjoy, Nature will
Clad in frost, winter is,
Entering, Lakes are freezing.
Be prepared.
©® Prabir Kumar Rath.

41.
Poem: “SOUND UP THE ORCHESTRAS, FRIENDS!”
Poet: Kujtim Hajdari.
From: Albania.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

My thoughts take flight,
and bring me the dreams we once wove;
They run off like unbridled horses,
across the endless field,
galloping on and calling for you,
their manes blown through the air.

On foggy days, lost in time,
in the weary sounds of silent history,
they’ve gone,
I seek your absence,
I seek to see you,
your voice in the songs we left unsung.

You leave a world that will afterward sing,
like a bird’s refrain in a forest full of green;
I, longing, will cry out when I hear it:
Sound up the orchestras, friends, for love!
©® Kujtim Hajdari

42.
Poem: “Cuts Like a Knife”
Poet: LJ Bechtel
From: Melbourne, FL, USA.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

A lie feels easy the moment it leaves the tongue,
light as breath, soft as something harmless.

But it waits.
It clings.
It burrows into the one who spoke it,
a quiet blade learning the shape of its owner’s ribs.

Each false word sharpens.
Each deceit remembers.
The soul knows when it’s been poisoned by its own hand.

And sooner or later, the truth comes
calling, pulling the knife free inch by inch,
making the liar feel every cut they though they’d escaped.

Because lies never wound the innocent
the way they haunt the one who forged them.

In the end, the blade turns inward,
and the soul bleeds for what it tried so hard to hide.
©® LJ Bechtel,

43.
Poem: “Wayfarers Adrift”
Poet: Rittangda Rituu Shyam
From: India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

We are all intricately woven into life’s labyrinthine web,
A complex tapestry from which there is no liberation.
No thread can be disentangled, no knot unraveled,
The retrograde path is consumed by the trajectory of our existence.

This protracted journey must be traversed, endured,
The trials encountered, the burden of consciousness borne.
We are all wayfarers, stranded on a desolate shore,
Gazing out at the boundless tide, awaiting a vessel to convey us to our eternal abode.

The ultimate vessel that must, and will, arrive.
We stand there, mute, with our chronicle like ephemeral sand
Slipping through our grasp, anticipating the summons,
Till our soul bids adieu, merging with the infinite.

Some vessels are blessed with a sail of fortune,
They skim effortlessly over the serene, untroubled expanse,
Others find their fragile hulls ensnared
In the unseen mesh of turbulent currents,
Pulled and tangled by inscrutable forces.

And then there are the forsaken, standing at the precipice,
Their own vessels shattered before they ever set sail.
They cup their empty hands, attempting to grasp what cannot be grasped,
Yearning for a haven they know they shall never attain.
©® Rittangda Rituu Shyam
Foot note:
We are all vessels upon life’s uncharted sea — some glide beneath calm skies, others battle tempests of their own making. Yet, each voyage is bound by the same tide, and every heart sails toward its destined horizon
Bio: A psychologist and writer with an academic background in English Literature, she combines psychological insight with literary depth in her work. A committed philanthropist, she is also the Chairman of VSM Global, Dubai, where she leads initiatives focused on global impact, education, and social responsibility.

44.
Poem: “L’appel du vide (call of the void)”
Poet: Ma Theresa Panganiban
From: Philippines 🇵🇭
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The sudden urge to walk to the sea
Amidst the rising waves
It lures her to the unknown
The darkness commands
An answer to hopelessness
Maybe a path to peace

The beach was empty
She stood for an hour
Looking at the vast deep
She never learned how to swim
If she went in, it would’ve swallowed her alive
Dark thoughts overwhelming

Her quest for freedom
Consuming her need to survive
She couldn’t care less
If her action justified
She delved deeper into her confused heart
The options were limited
According to her mind
The sea has the answer
L’appel du vide (call of the void)
The end of misery, but dark triumphs

Her phone started ringing
A call from home
Her mother’s time for treatment
Jerked her reverie
She sacrificed so much for this
Forgetting her dreams..her life
She has gone a long way…
Has done so much
She was just tired, needed to breathe

She inhaled deeper
Taking in the breath of Hope
The promise of Spring
Whispered a short prayer…
Take these dark thoughts away.
©® Ma Theresa Panganiban.
Bio: Ma Theresa Panganiban is a mother, a dreamer, a poet/author from the beautiful islands of the Philippines.She started late in her passion in favor of family life. But the love for words finally pulled her to her pen and blank sheets to express herself and make use of the talent given to her by her creator. She has been published in 6 volumes of the Anthology Compendiums of The Endeavour; Wheelsong Anthology and a number of times in the weekly and quarterly publications of Cultural Reverence Digital journal of arts and literature.

45.
Poem: “I loved you with a love that never ends—”
Poet: Fadwa Attia,
From: Egypt
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I loved you with a love that never ends
a great, sincere love,
and with every passing day, my heart grew fuller with you.

My beloved,
although you departed from my world,
you remained alive in my memory;
the memory of your love never leaves me.

Return to me
with your love, your heart, your days,
so we may become like two birds
flying together in the dreams of tomorrow.

My love—and yours—
know no end.
Remember me as days pass,
and do not forget that my love
still belongs to you.
As if we are still together,
my beloved—
forever.
©® Fadwa Attia,

46.
Poem: “Whisper of Dreams”
Poet: Xoʻjyozova Dildora.
From: Uzbekistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

In silent nights my dreams awake,
Like gentle waves upon a lake,
They call my heart to distant skies,
Where hidden stars begin to rise.
Through winds of hope my soul will fly,
Beyond the clouds, beyond the sky,
No fear can stop the light I see,
The dream of who I want to be.
And if the road is long and wide,
I walk with faith deep inside,
For every step will lead me near,
To shining days I hold so dear.
©® Xoʻjyozova Dildora.

47.
Poem: “Umbrella”
Poet: Anil Kumar Mishra
From: Ranchi,Jharkhand, India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Under the colourful umbrella
of safe parenting & guardianship
flowers’ colours never fade
they bloom with red,happy cheeks
they enjoy
infanthood & childhood
under the safe shelter.
Later on at the threshold of puberty
they remember those beautiful days of childhood
free from all the worries
anxiety & pressure
happiness waiting every moment
at the door
running here & there
in the lap of nature
trying to feel the pleasure of sipping
nectar of Nature’s beauty,
enjoying the ecstatic moment
of the safe childhood
under the love of careful parenting
protected from all the worries & pains.
Sweet days of that childhood
propel everyone to dive
in those colourful days
under the sweet shelter
of the safe parenting.
©® Anil Kumar Mishra.

48.
Poem: “Why did i love you?”
Poet: “Odilov Husanxon”
From: Uzbekistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Why did i love you?..
When did you appear before me?
Loving you has left my heart in ruin.
Which of your words enchanted me?
Why did I love you — I am bewildered.

When did I even meet you?
Since that day, I have been restless.
Love, it seems, is blind in its gaze —
Why did I love you — I am bewildered.

Was it fate that brought us together,
Or am I just a lie in your life?
We let so many years slip by…
Why did I love you — I am bewildered.

Where were you, and where was I?
You withered — and I, like autumn, faded.
We both surrendered to our fate…
Why did I love you — I am bewildered.
©® Odilov Husanxon

49.
Poem: ” Women of my time “
Poet: Nazirah mahmoud.
From: Nigeria.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Women of my time, yearning to be free
From chains that bind, a cage we can’t see
Our careers at peak, yet “bossy” they say
While empty vessels are praised, we’re expected to stay

In the workplace, inequality we face
Decisions taken for us, without a gentle pace
Bitter truths and disrespect, a constant refrain
A working class, where women’s worth is in vain

We’re shattered daily, like a mirror’s fall
Our ambitions, crushed, before we even stand tall
Total submission, what’s expected of us, it seems
But we’re gentle storms, shaking the floor, it beams

A future I pray, where our voices are heard
Our dreams will come to pass, and our worth will be blurred
©® Zeerah Nazirah mahmoud
Bio: I’m Nazirah Mahmoud Zubairu, born on 8th April 2001 and brought up in kaduna, a Nigerian poet and spoken word artist, currently a final year Microbiology student at Bauchi State University, Gadau.
I write in both English and Hausa to explore themes of identity, pain, culture, and feminine strength. My reflective and emotionally rooted style is inspired by personal and societal experiences. Poetry allows me to give voice to the unheard and offer healing through storytelling.

50.
Poem: “You are a lack for me”
author: Valentina Yordanova.
From: Accordia (Bulgaria)
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

And a hundred suns of gold to shine above me,
I do not have your fiery sparkling warmth…
And a hundred songs in a cheerful choir of birds to sing,
I long to hear yours – sung of love.
And a hundred violets with a gentle aroma to smell,
I will seek to feel your aroma everywhere.
And a hundred smiles of stars in the night to shine,
I will always seek your smile among them.
And a hundred times the wind to embrace me instead of you,
I will wait for your embrace from your gentle hands
. And a hundred kisses to shower me with white sea waves,
I will want yours – magical, again.
And a hundred tears of joy to pour from the sky over me,
I will again wait for rain from your laughter to gush.
And a hundred whispers to hear from the trembling of the leaves,
I long for your gentle and healing words.
And a hundred curses of envy from nymphs
will not stop me, to find the way
to your heart again. Even if unknown to you.
And a hundred summers in my life to fly by, I will
be reborn in the new life of spring –
where the fire of love will burn
and doves in love, next to us will coo out of love.
And for now, in my soul, it is still autumn time,
to which a sad melody my thoughts dance.
A heavy rain falls over an old autumn roof.
I would not replace you even with a tear of joy!
Translated by Yoana Konstantinova
©® Valentina Yordanova.

51.
Poem: “THANKSGIVING”
Poet: Nguyễn Quang Thiều
From: Việt Nam.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The road.
The road.
The road
leading back to the old lake.
An aging lotus leaf, perfectly still,
waits on quiet water.

You who gathered flowers in a previous life—
have you found peace in this one?

Do I have to dig three feet into the earth
to find someone to drink with?
Climb seven levels of sky
to find someone who will sit and talk?

I lift my face—
a red cloud breaks,
thunder splitting the back of heaven.

I lower my head—
white grasslands
opening in every direction.

Leaving the old lake,
the road.
The road.
The road.
©® Nguyễn Quang Thiều

52.
Poem: “LOVE THE PAINS”
Poet: Shafkat Aziz Hajam
From: India kashmir .
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I love the pains I’ve while lightning the dark mind.
I love the pains I’ve while showing the way to the blind.
I love the pains I’ve while fighting for the right.
I love the pains I’ve while relieving someone of their plight.
I love the pains I’ve while proving the veracity.
I love the pains I’ve while preserving my dignity.
©® Shafkat Aziz Hajam

53.
Poem: “Before my last breath”
Poet: Sandeep Sharma
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

My time feels shorter
But it doesn’t feel like the end—

more like standing at the edge of something quiet,
unsure, but not afraid.
As if I’m about to step onto a shore
I’ve never seen,
yet somehow recognize.

Death, you don’t scare me.
You’re not a ruler or a punishment—
just a crossing.
A narrow bridge
where the weight I’ve carried
finally loosens its grip,
where sorrow stops pretending to be strong.

My hands are empty,
There’s nothing left to grasp.
My heart still carries small lights—
hopes I once protected,
even when storms tried to drown them out.
Somewhere, they’re still glowing.
This body is tired.
It’s worn thin, like an old coat
that’s done its job.
Soon it will rest,
quietly, without complaint.
And whatever I am beyond it—

that part will be free,
out of reach of pain,
out of reach of fear.
Endings aren’t only endings.
Sometimes they’re just beginnings—
turning back once,
with a soft, knowing smile.
©® Sandeep Sharma
Bio: The poet Sandeep Sharma is a journalist working as Bureau Chief of an English daily Eastern Chronicle published from Guwahati, Assam.

54.
Poem: “The Arithmetic Of Loss”
Poet: Dr. Mallika Tripathi
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Sitting alone for hours, I felt myself thinning into silence.
The room darkened, not with night, but with unanswered thoughts.
Fear arrived quietly, wearing the face of familiarity.
Memories breached me like unpaid debts demanding settlement.
I saw years squandered arranging fragile alliances.
I bent my spine to hold relationships that never held me.
Purpose was postponed while trivial hours ruled my days.
I mistook endurance for virtue and compromise for wisdom.
Regret soaked my eyes without offering relief.
Every tear measured time I would never reclaim.
I built a castle from obedience, praise, and expectation.
Its walls shimmered until touched, then vanished.
I spent my breath pleasing those indifferent to my hunger.
I called sacrifice love and slowly disappeared.
Isolation, relentless and honest, became my mentor.
It stripped me of comforting lies and forced me to confront the arithmetic of loss.
I counted the cost of every silenced desire.
Was I ever a crusader or merely a captive?
The question cut deeper than regret.
Yet in that darkness, something hardened within me.
I refused to die maintaining illusions.
I chose to stand where fear once instructed me to kneel.
Darkness became a passage, not a destination.
I step forward repairing the damage I permitted.
With resolve I took up the ink of eternity
To author the remaining chapters of my life.
©® Dr. Mallika Tripathi
Bio: Dr. Mallika Tripathi is a poet and academician known for her introspective, socially conscious, and emotionally resonant writing. She is the Founder and President of Anjani Welfare Society, reflecting her commitment to social responsibility and humanitarian work. Her poetry has been widely published and honored with several accolades, including ‘Best Pensmith Award’ and the ‘International Brooklyn Award’ for literary excellence.

55.
Poem: “Unrequited Love”
Poet: Dr.Purnima.
From: India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

You know what it feels like
to lose the one true love—
a cavern opens inside the chest,
hollow and unlit.

We keep trying to fill that space
with anything that fits,
but every attempt bites back—
Like a missing piece of jigsaw
like a wound left open,
it gathers filth,
it rots in silence.

Unrequited love is a black hole,
a pitfall in the heart—
it drains,
it devours,
it leaves you starved of light.
©® Dr. Purnima

56.
Poem: “The Future Breathes”
Poet: Saeeda Akhtar
From: Pakistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The future does not knock,
it rises softly in the corners of our choices.
It lives in the courage to forgive
and the patience to unlearn old sorrows.
It whispers in the hands that silence claims them.

It blooms in the light of small kindnesses,
and in the gentle refusal to tread worn paths.
Do not wait for it,
step into it barefoot,
with eyes wide open,
and a heart that remembers
how to dream without fear.
©️®️ Saeeda Akhtar

57.
Poem: “Innocent Eyes”
Poet: Dominique Erecilla Albano
From: Philippines 🇵🇭
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I look at the world with wonder
Fresh as morning dew on grass
Unjaded, unafraid, I see
The beauty that others might pass

The sun shines bright, a golden glow
That lights up all I see and know
The trees sway gently in the breeze
Their leaves rustling softly, like a whispered peace

The world is full of mystery
A place of magic, wild and free
Where flowers bloom in every hue
And every moment is new

I see the world with heart full of cheer
Unfiltered joy, no room for fear
The innocence of childhood stays
A precious gift, a wondrous way

The world may try to shape my view
But I will hold on to innocence true
For in its simplicity, I find my strength
And a sense of wonder that’s my greatest wealth

In the stillness, I hear a voice
Whispering truths, a heartfelt choice
To see the world with eyes aglow
Is to live life fully, don’t you know?

Let me hold on to this childlike gaze
And see the world in all its wonder and haze
For in its beauty, I find my peace
And a sense of belonging that never will cease.
©® Dominique Erecilla Albano
.

58.
Poem : “ Restless illusions”
Poet: Ahamad sahil
From: Texas, USA.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The mind keeps falling apart
Into its own illusions,
Lousy memory appears,
then disappears all of a sudden !
a busy echo
flickering in and out.

I shift the window —
My eyes fall
to the ground.

Around somewhere
a flat darkness
kept watching me.
I strike its small flame
and lose myself
into the light.

Then the silence
in my nerves asks,
Who are you ?
How did this hollow
enter you ?

In reply—
I gripped its pulse
until it bled,
and tore it apart.
©️®️ Ahamad sahil
Bio : Ahamad Sahil is a multilingual poet from Texas, USA. His poetry has been featured in several world poetry anthologies and online literary magazines. He holds a degree in Business Administration from Kathmandu, Nepal, and writes across languages to explore identity, memory, and belonging.

59.
Poem: “The Voice Behind My Voice “
Poet: Sipra Debnath.
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

There’s a whisper laced inside my tone,
A thread of thoughts not quite my own.
It speaks in calm when I feel rage,
And turns my truth into a cage.

It answers when I mean to pause,
It rewrites grief with finer laws.
I speak of peace while feeling torn—
A double self, divided, worn.

It says, “Be kind,” yet masks disdain,
It sings in sun and weeps in rain.
Is this my echo, soft and sly?
Or someone else who lives inside?

I wonder when I close my eyes,
Whose breath it is that wears disguise.
And if I strip this voice away—
Would silence have more truth to say?
©® Sipra Debnath.

60.
Poem: “The magical world of food”
Poet: Teshaboyev Tolib
From: Uzbekistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Bread and milk, fruits and vegetables,
Give each of us strength and life.
Orange carrots, sweet apples,
In every meal a hidden delight.

Soup is hot, and bread is fresh,
Each bite a treasure, a source of health.
With food the heart is satisfied,
Nourishment enriches the soul as well.
©® Teshaboyev Tolib

61.
Poem: “MIRACLE”
Poet: Jakhongir NOMOZOV
From: Uzbekistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

When musician winds played their music,
The rains had also sung their quiest song.
Until the moon had done make up in the sky,
Woken up from its heavy sleep Sun.

The alarm clock is ringing “Wake up!” and “Wake up!”
Someone is awake, othersare in slumber.
If only you knew that cage is home, but sadness,
Come herel You too join this life, dear…

Thear away the sadness lying in your eyes,
Banish the sad voices from your heart and soul.
Do take steady pace with firm confidence,
Fill your every day with a miracle, bu full…
Bio: Jakhongir NOMOZOV He was born on January 24, 1997 in Pop district of Namangan region. Correspondent for Uzbekistan in Azerbaijan’s “Butov Azerbaijan” newspaper, “YAZARLAR” journal, and the Literature and Fine Arts website managed by the Ministry of Culture and Literary Fund of the Republic of Azerbaijan. The representative of the Turkish state “SIIR SARNICI” electronic magazine in Uzbekistan. Member of the Azerbaijan Journalists’ Union and the World Young Turkic Writers Union. A member of the International Association “World Talents” established in the Republic of Kazakhstan, the winner of the “Abay” medal, “Commemorative Badge of the International Amir Temur Charitable Fund” and “Pride of Science” awards. Member of the International Association of Artists, member of the Kyrgyz Poets and Writers Public Fund of the Kyrgyz Republic. Participant of the traditional workshop of young artists. He has been creating in the fields of poetry, journalism, and translation. His poems were published in the international “Mujde” and “Flashmab” anthologies. He is the author of the books “Rebels in My Heart”, “Sacred Space” and “Awakening Song”. 2022 in the Turkish publishing house “Baygenc”. The poetry book “Breath of the Sun” was published. Winner of many national and international competitions. Published in Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Azerbaijan, India, Turkey, Russia, Bangladesh, Nepal, Kenya, Algeria,Iran,Iraq Vietnam, Serbia, Macedonia, Belgium, China, Kore, Spain, Italy, Albania, American newspapers and magazines and literary sites. done Member of “World Talents” International Association, “Kyrgyz Public Fund of Poets and Writers”. He is a student of the University of Journalism and Mass Communications. Winner of the “Guzel Alania Award” of the Turkish state. In 2025, dedicated to the dear memory of the National Hero of Azerbaijan, Hokuma Aliyeva, “Demisdin yaxsi olacak…” His article was also published in his book A member of the Azerbaijan Turan Writers’ Union. The official ambassador of the Asih Sasami Indonesia Foundation to Uzbekistan.

62.
Poem: “Ode to John Keats”
Poet: Muhammad Adnan Gujjar.
From: Pakistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

It has been ages;
Thou were cherished by sages
Still, Nightingale’s glory twitters
Thy autumn’s aura glitters.
The Grecian urn mesmerizes aesthetes;
The drinker still drinks in Lethe
The seeker quests for autumnal song
The lover remains in thy long.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Art still nurtures in thy favour
Thy melancholy is still melancholic
Folks sip thy serene like alcoholic.
Hungry generations live thy festivity;
Still, Hellenism celebrates thy activity
O’ Keats, simply thou art creativity
And I still sing thy naivety.
©® Muhammad Adnan Gujjar.

63.
Poem: “The Accidental Night Gallery “
Poet: Tim Boardman
From: West Yorkshire.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The walk home
through the early
evening
thin mist
covering the valley.

A billboard
stripped
of its advertising;
overhead lighting:

Richter.
Dustbins in an alleyway—
three green,
fallen like dominoes,
backlit
by a security light
as I pass.

The overflowing litter bin,
some animal
has ravaged
the chips.
And of course,
the café on the corner,
reflecting the traffic lights—
the old man in a cloth cap,
hands wrapped
around a mug,
keeping warm:

inevitably
a Hopper.
Light
flickers
above the bus stop;
bushes press
against the glass.

The shutters
of the vape shop
half-down;
scrawled graffiti.

A traffic cone
stands alone
in the gutter—
an exclamation mark.
The wet tarmac
reflects

lovers
“A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall.”
In the churchyard
the bench,
lit by the cold moon,
surrounded by trees—

I briefly
enter Narnia.
Yesterday’s shopping list
stuck to the pavement,
proclaiming:
“Beer for Frank”
and
“Nibbles.”
©️®️ Tim Boardman
Bio: Tim Boardman, a poet from West Yorkshire, crafts lyrical, intimate pieces that illuminate ordinary life, blending reflection, memory, and gentle storytelling into moments of subtle emotional resonance.

64.
Poem: “Latin Lover”
Poet: Dr. Arbind Kumar Choudhary
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Lover is as pure as Ganga river
Who shivers from celibacy fever
For want of noon of the moon ever
Amidst many an Acheron river?

The craver is as bright as silver
Who has been found better late than never
For the wreathed silver
Amidst many a dirty silver?

The contriver is as striver as surviver
Who has many arrows in his quiver
To strike over for her faver
Amidst many a chopped liver?

How can the conserver hanker after her faver
Amidst many a Karamanasa river ?
©® Dr. Arbind Kumar Choudhary

65.
Poet: Vandana Kumar
Poem: “Hymn to the city”
From: India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

It’s a modern city
Smelling of ancient rodents
With no Pied Piper
Remotely close

Loneliness travels
From this city
To another
Faster than sound
Faster than all the light around

And a woman
In that other city
Bursting with its new-fangled ailments
Catches it

Lovers write to each other
Across metros
Mistaking this loneliness, for love

They delude themselves
Talk of abandoning
The metropolis
But there aren’t associations

For this sort of de-addiction
Where they make weekly targets
Quit slowly
Leave for the seas
Leave for the hills

The forsaken city
Sits well on them
Like nicotine
On passive smokers lungs

Sinking like sand
In an hourglass
To the bottom of their urban hearts
©️®️ Vandana Kumar
Bio: Vandana Kumar is a translator, recruitment consultant, cinephile, Indie Film Producer and multiple award-winning poet from New Delhi, India. Her poems have been published in national and international websites and anthologies of repute. She is a Pushcart prize nominee 2023 and her poetry collection ‘Mannequin of Our Times’ has also won several awards. ‘Mannequin Of Our Times’ has recently been translated into Greek by the ‘Writers International Edition’. She received the Global Icon Award at the Global Vision Summit 2025 held in Athens, Greece. (No pic)

66.
Poem: “WHIRLPOOL OF LIFE”
Poet: Milena Pčinjski
From: Republic of Serbia

Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

In a brief breather,
between piled-up dishes,
a thousand whirls of the centrifuge,
voracious spiders crawling
over the balcony walls,
one more meal and an alarm,
my favorite radio station,
coffee sipped in haste,
smog, and the frantic circles of time…
Between popping messages
and online classes, a dying battery,
my wornout emotions
and a wish that never came true –
Between your eyes reading this now
and the terrible sorrow in my heart,
because I can do nothing for the maimed boy
in the whirlpool of war,
except sob inconsolably
and pray to God to ease his pain –
for him and for every child, mother and father,
whom the cursed machinery of evil
has made miserable forever.
In the pause, between my mute existential despair,
the emptiness and disappointment
caused by people without soul or honor –
stands an entire abyss,
one brave heartbeat,
and this poem.
©️®️ Milena Pčinjski
Bio: Milena Pčinjski (Милена Пчињски) was born October 28th, 1986, in Prokuplje, Republic of Serbia and lives in Ćuprija, RS. She holds a Master’s degree in English language and literature. Her poems have been published in many collections and anthologies of the contemporary Serbian poetry, as well as in international and online poetry collections. She published the collection of poems ’’Verses Imprisoned’’ (Заробљени стихови). She works as an Online English professor with adults and also as a translator for Area Felix, an international e-magazine for creative literature and culture. She is a proofreader in the Association of Writers – SKOR, Novi Sad, Serbia. She is active on Instagram and Facebook where she regularly posts her poems. Her poetry collection „Verses Imprisoned” was awarded the Honorary Silver Diploma by the Ortodox Cultural and Artistic Almanac „Arina NN”, Nizhny Novgorod, Russia. She is an honorary member of the Academy of Farsala in Greece.

67.
Poem: “SUNSET”
Poet: B. K. Lowndes 2000 (Sri Sunkara)
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Soft light emerging from the East,
Past the day, under Nature’s Ray;
Mystical, magic light from the West,
Tells the time for Mankind to rest.
Day turns, spinning beneath our feet,
Sunsets’ multi-colors, spellbound we greet;
Sunrise announced the Dawn,
No surprise, new life was Born.
A Solar System’s setting sun,
Watched over all as each day done,
Awoke upon a distant shore,
Long afore Earthman stood to Explore.
Sunset upon Maldek, Mars and Moon,
Fifteen Billion years before Eden’s garden
bloom,
Earth’s molten fiery surface cooled.
Falling ash absorbed Moisture’s kiss,
Upon hostile Lava’s bed peaks the green,
Sprouting within the mist;
From this green came all today’s Earth has
seen.
When Mars was the Planet Blue,
Yes, You the Ancestor resided too;
Forced to flee to a watery Moon,
Settled upon Earth and none too soon.
Mankind from Maldek and long afore,
Fled the blast, another past, failed the test,
Nuclear horizon threatens all as before;
Surely time to let the Atoms rest.
On Mars, Moon, now Earth again,
Mankind no stranger to self created Pain.
Hidden history of a species and Pan now know,
©️®️ B. K. Lowndes 2000 (Sri Sunkara)

68.
Poem: “COMPASS ROSE”
Poet: Bertha Galán
From: Bolivia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Roses float on the ocean
melodies of silence and foam,
Its petals travel at night
under the flowery moon of the sea.

Masterful star of ancient sap
touches the brilliance of the maternal star,
New water whispers secrets…
Vibrate in the soul, immortal jewel!

The elegant compass rose
Its compass spins aimlessly,
Where does wandering destiny blow?
To what port is my heart sailing?

North is memory, South is desire
This is the wound, West is peace,
Roses, wise promises…
They bloom without fear, without looking back.

The sea carries them away and time sings
The moon blesses them as they pass by,
the compass rose…
It keeps secrets, towards the divine
to be reborn!!
©️®️ Bertha Galán

69.
Poem: “WILD (A poem from the Poetry Collection “Fragments” “
Poet: Maria Kolovou Roumelioti.
From: Greece
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Once upon a time, I was wild!… and I had wings on my shoulders
and I flew freely‧
and I kicked the clouds and tasted the dews‧and the pomegranate roses of youth were bent!

Once upon a time, I was wild, barefoot and free
and I walked on the cliffs without crutches!
But people envied me and stole my joy
from the dews of carefreeness and the kisses of the wind
and they threw nets in the skies and tied my dreams
and they untied their nets in the middle of the crowd.

They put high-heeled shoes on me‧
they taught me to eat with a knife and fork‧
with they tamed me and called me HUMAN.
They placed me in the swamp… In the jungle of humans…

Since then I have lost my identity.
I search for it and I cannot find it!…
I do not know what I am!…
Human or Wild?

Once… I became Human!
And humans called me Wild.
Then I cried out humanly and said:
Sometimes even wild things grow old
and acquire the habits of their masters…
But my own master is my God
and he taught me to speak freely
with the voice of conscience, in the jungle of humans!
©® Maria Kolovou Roumelioti.

70.
Poem: “Broken Orbit”
Poet: Dr Sarita Chauhan
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The Sun waited, a whole year long,
to have me write its silent, sorrowful song.
I thought it was a vow of perfect trust.
It followed me, a shadow, thin and slow,
“You are the only one who truly knows.”
I saw the world—a quiet, humming place.
The Sun sighed: “We look like one smooth sphere,
but underneath, a vast, cold frontier.
Is this closeness—this wide, empty space?
I swallow all the effort, word, and plea,
fearing one pull would break reality.
Why must my silence hold us in our place?
I shine, I burn, I pour out all my light,
yet half our tale is buried in the night.
When the ache gets too deep, I long to fly,
and vanish into the lonely, final sky.
Is wanting love a sin for which I pay?
They curse the heat I give and cast away.
Tell me, is it wrong to simply need his hand?”
I saw the tremor. “Everything longs for more—
the root that seeks the deep, the wave that wants the shore.”
It paused, eyes dark, “Don’t you have a wish that lasts?”
I smiled. “My desires left when the pain passed.”
©️®️ Dr Sarita Chauhan

71.
Poem: “When Hunger Knocked, It Knew Us”
Poet: Zulfiqar Hamdam Awan .
From: Pakistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

There was a day
when hunger stopped counting
and started remembering.
It no longer moved through reports and charts,
no longer hid behind percentages and trends.
It came softly,
pronouncing names correctly,
standing in doorways
where hope once hung its coat.
It knew which child slept facing the wall,
which mother watered soup
to make it last one more night,
which father learned silence
because apology had grown expensive.
Bread was no longer missing
it was mourned.
Water was no longer scarce
it was negotiated.
Dreams learned to eat less
so the body could survive.
We were not poor in theory.
We were poor in the morning,
poor at dusk,
poor in the sound a stomach makes
when it argues with sleep.
Hunger sat beside us,
not as a monster,
but as an uninvited witness
to everything we tried to remain.
It watched dignity improvise.
It saw generosity survive
on empty plates.
The world still spoke in numbers,
comfortable, clean, distant.
But numbers cannot feel
the shame of borrowed rice,
cannot carry the weight
of explaining absence to a child.
That day, suffering refused anonymity.
It insisted on faces.
It demanded eye contact.
It carved memory into policy
and conscience into obligation.
Because once hunger knows your name,
you are no longer invisible.
And once poverty learns your address,
the lie of distance collapses.
This is not a poem asking for pity.
It is a record.
A reminder.
A quiet accusation.
If hunger can recognize us,
so can justice.
If poverty can memorize our lives,
so can mercy
if we choose
to learn the names back.
©️®️ Zulfiqar Hamdam Awan

72.
Poem: “EMBERS OF MIND”
Poet: Parvinder Nagi
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Every memory woven in tenderness
Drifting through the gentle flicker of laughter
In the last moments of life
The echoes of the surging brain
Replaying the sensations of warmth
Echoes of deepest memories
Gathering the scattered embers
The minds last flickers of consciousness
Surfacing with fragments of love
Reminding that you’re not alone
Re- living memories past
Graphics of neurons finally falling apart
In a grin when the world
grows thin
Shredding the voices
you recognized
Searing through lost memories
One last time cherishing
that every thing now ends!
©® Parvinder Nagi

73.
Poet: Mandira Ghosh
Poem: “Aftermath of War”
From: India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

And in the aftermath of war
When the plants exhaust, burn and turn carbon
Men and women are devoid of food..

Why don’t you listen?
Why don’t you understand ?
A proud missile is a mistake missile
Anyone can acquire
Only foolish boast of his armament as ornaments

Death became so cheap
Killer bombs-
Are actually cheaper than vegetables.
©️®️ Mandira Ghosh
Bio: Secretary and treasurer of the Poetry Society India.

74.
Poem: “HEARtLESS WORLD !”
Poet: Dr Prasana Kumar Dalai.
From:India
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Heartless world and life a puppet show
How could it feel the pain of two hearts
The one who does love never breaks
Bears everything but doesn’t open lips
The eyes will be open even after death
Eyelids won’t be closed without seeing
I won’t go alone leaving you behind me
I take your picture in my eyes for ever
Love,immortal, doesn’t look for result
Neither life nor death is being seen
Perhaps you are not in my destiny
Why you decorated love in my heart
Why you shed tears living in my eyelids
You are smiling in my broken dreams
Walking with me running all my feelings .
©️®️ Dr Prasana Kumar Dalai

75.
Poem: “Stone”
Poet: Tanja Ajtic
From: Serbia/Canada.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Stone upon stone
my house is built.
In the threshold of the front door
a venomous snake is walled in,
to drive away evil and frighten
those who are not welcome,
the unwanted and the thieves.
Its poison still flows beneath
the threshold for wild
animals thirsty for blood
and hungry as well.

Stone upon stone,
a wall around me
so I do not allow evil
to enter my soul,
so that even in the inner courtyard
I may be preserved,
within myself
feeling free.
©️®️ Tanja Ajtic

76.
Poem: “Animation Translucent Layers”
Poet: Ruby Kaila Malhotra
From: Canada
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Impact Craters & Crater Impact Twin Prelude
Firstly, Let Us Focus On Craters From Cosmic Play Miniscule
In Diameter, To Those That Run Into Lashes. Secondly, What
Then, Is A True Crater ? What About Dual Transient Ring And

More? Elastic Rebound Centripetal Collapse Back Filling Down Faulting
Transform Create and Recreate. Velocity Traveling Speed Distinguishes, The Extreme Temps
In Pressures! Of Shock Waves. Reflection Like Refraction And
Vectors Included. Why Did I Say That ? Because Nothing Is
Observable (Weizmann as Double Split Experiment), In Reality
To Begin With, Questions Like Qualifiers, Quantifiers, Empirical
Or Not
Divine, Layered, Loss, Renewal, Atop, Joy, Within
©® Ruby Kaila Malhotra

77.
Poem: “Strong”
Poet: Carol Robertson.
From: Jamaica
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

As always he came for the night
he only came to hold me tight
I was under the influence
of just letting go
but something in my heart said no
he hugged
and we did what we always do
he came after awhile I did too

we hugged
and my heart pounded
and pounded
for the feeling was strong
and I could no longer hold on

I gasped his head
and his bear chest
held onto him like I was playing chess
he pushed me away
and ended it
for inside me was Strength and I still held on
Strong.
©® Carol Robertson

78.
Poem: “MAY YOUR NIGHT BE OVER”
Poet: Praise Mk Nkhoma
From: Malawi 🇲🇼
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

May your night be over.
May your heavy heart learn the language of storms,
Swaying on the mighty sea of life
Until it reaches the farther shore
Carpeted with green promise,
And a quiet battalion of trees
Bowing their backs for your becoming.

Ride into the gates of tomorrow
Unperfumed by weary dusk.
Carry the sword of your faith
Close to your heart
And should it tremble, guard it.
Bite your slippery tongue
When it longs to wound,
For every man drags a sob story
Stitched into his shadow.

May your night be over.
Lead the herds of your pain
Down the narrow brook;
Let them graze on gentler pastures.
Do not squander the sacred years to waste,
Lest you discover your grave
Is only a womb
Crowded with grudges
And stillborn regrets.

The world will not pause for you.
So limp beneath the scorching sun,
It’s weight blistering your back,
And seek the answers to your quest
Through pressed palms
And blood-scraped knees.
The sky is a ready hand.
May your night be over
©® Praise Mk Nkhoma

79.
Poem: “Silhouette of sweat”
Poet: Simon Bernard Elliott.
From: New Zealand
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Sun flirts with slumber.
Sand, fire of anticipation.
She is surrender.
Bare and sprawled,
across the verander

Tide reverses to go after.
Approaching for a better look.
Observing world flatters
But she is recharging,
external no longer matters

A blinding seam where sun and sky met
The salt spray makes stomach growl
Heat confronts sweat
Which wood absorbs through towel
Thirst is urgent debt

Pale skin tans and blends
wave lips advance to kiss
Lifts herself leaving damp so pleasant
The sea cursed the sun with a hiss
Sun bore down, dried up her essence
©® Simon Elliott
Bio: My name is Simon Bernard Elliott. I reside in Brazil. I have been an english teacher in Brazil for the last 19 years. I was Born and raised In New Zealand. I am self employed. I love gardening and exercise.

80.
Poem: “The Last Time I Checked”
Poet: Shelton Gonkerwon.
From: Liberia, West Africa.‎
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

‎The last time I checked
‎I saw nothing extra about life
‎I saw nothing extra about women
‎I saw nothing extra about all men
‎I saw nothing extra about power
‎I saw nothing extra about flowers
‎I saw history moving historically
‎I saw light and darkness far apart
‎I saw vanity normally being chased
‎I saw triviality preferred over reality
‎I saw the devil being hailed by men
‎I saw truth being vehemently resisted
‎I saw the fools used as political tools
‎I saw evils being multiplied by the devil
‎I saw fake pastors creating dissasters
‎I saw greed grown with excessive speed
‎I saw corruption living and not yet dead

‎ ‎The last time I checked!!
‎Nothing absolutely new I saw
‎I saw people violating the laws
‎I saw death doing business as usual
‎I saw life orbiting through the storm
‎I saw the moon hanging over doom
‎I saw corruption spinning in all institutions
‎I saw a new generation with less inspiration
‎I saw a declined taste for education
©® Shelton Gonkerwon

81.
Poem: “Praisive poetry:”
Poet: Samad Daud
From: Pakistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Congratulations! And— many many congratulations! You’ve completed the 1st year of university.
I’m a nonsense, still — in the TCA!!!
While you passed out the TCA!
And— complete 1st year!
Without my permission, at least— tell me,
Are you living university life without any fear?
Is this your dream to take An English department?
Or this is your or your father’s choice the department?
Even — I don’t want to know any-further!
I just give you the words of wisdoms forever,
Happy completed the year of your university life!
But, I am in the precious year of our TCA life!!
I’ve failed with efforts of trying to come out;
All lucks that changed into bad-luck!!
I didn’t join university, and decided to never join university!
It’s my decision, because— now,
My right has died to live a university life!!!
Alas! I am living the wounds thats related to you!!
You alone joined and I!!!!!
Complete your studies and take a degree!
I am already graduated the dark-life with dark degree!!!!
Congratulations again oh my brave princess!!
I just pray that may your further journey be easy!
May Allah keep you from difficulties!
May Allah ease your study!
May Allah save you from bad sights;
And keep you from negativity!
Congratulations!! Oh my brave princess student!
My wish was to live a university life with you in a same department!
But this never happened!!!
Congratulations!!
©® Samad Daud

82.
Poem: “ALL MY LINES”
Poet: Daniel Omar
From: Malawi
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

In the silence, my thoughts echo like whispers in the night,
unseen but palpable, filling the empty spaces.
Words I haven’t spoken are trapped,
clamoring to break free like autumn leaves in the rain.
The intricacies of life slip away,
lost in translation,
leaving only the faint outlines of what could’ve been the lines that could’ve been spoken,
the connections that could’ve been made,
now fading like footprints in the sand.
©® Daniel omar

83.
Poem: “April remains merciless.”
Poet:Musharraf Hussain.
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Yet within this improbable envelope of love,
a cloth journeys—

not toward a believer,
not toward a rebel,
not toward caste or creed—

but toward a wandering human being
still convinced
that fabric can shelter dignity,
that thread can outlive accusation,
that tenderness predates doctrine.

Minakshi has sent me a Bihuwan—
and in its woven silence
history pauses,
breathes,
and begins again.
©® Musharraf Hussain.
Bio: Musharraf Hussain is an Indian poet, academic, and Assistant Professor based in Goalpara, Assam, whose work interrogates identity, dignity, cultural memory, and the ethics of coexistence in an increasingly fragmented world. Writing across multiple languages, he transforms regionally rooted symbols into resonant universal metaphors. His poetry privileges restraint over rhetoric, conscience over spectacle, and moral inquiry over ideological assertion. In “Minakshi Has Sent Me a Bihuwan and…”, he re-envisions a traditional Assamese textile as a living cartography of interwoven humanity beyond caste, creed, and inherited divisions. His literary vision is anchored not in ornamentation, but in enduring human connectedness.

84.
Poem: “Light that pours from the seams”
Poet: Bania Sofia
From: Greece
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The bitter ones steam
in the swelling depths of the soul
like salt that burns
the open wounds of the horizon.
The wounds are watered
by the blood that flows
in climbing the rocks.
The sharpest stones scratch our feet and
not even worn sandals
can protect us from the pain.
Our clothes
sewn with spiderweb thread
are not enough to warm us in the dusk
when the shadows come to life
and
become nightmares
and haunt us
like ancient Erinyes of memory.
Hot tears
silently moisten the dreams
that move into oblivion
like forgotten birds without a sky.
And yet
the blood that drips
reveals a pure power
that nestles in the holey pockets of our clothes.
And from the poor seams
it weaves threads of endurance,
it weaves wings of perseverance,
it weaves a new dawn
even when life bleeds and
the stars swim in the shadow.
Then the soul seeks that crack
that will let a ray of sunshine pass
to weave wings of hope.
Even when everything is scattered into a thousand pieces
and pain suffocates every dawn
and the night weighs heavily on the sky
the fragrance of our new day
will take root like a small wildflower in the crack
that asks for nothing more than a little soil and
a drop of light.
A strong inner
that fights against the darkness
like a root that pushes the stone to crack
and breathes beneath the ruins
still bleeding
with wings from its own wound
giving birth to heaven from the ashes.
And this flame rekindles the desire
for clear horizons
and new days
when storms rock the ship of life.
And if we ever surrendered to the wind,
we fainted at its first swing,
if we felt that we were losing
this strange power kept us standing.
©® Bania Sofia

85.
Poem: “The Love of Storm and Dust”
Poet: Muammer Alsufyani
From: Yemen 🇾🇪
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

She: Love is instinct!!!
He: I want to take from you, a glance at my place.
She: Yes
He entered the heart of the storm and created a giant of dust..
Hearts are entities and love is a religion that doesn’t diminish!!!
Even stone breaks its silence, water and jealousy are just a drop of nature.
©® Muammer Alsufyani

86.
Poem: “Out of Context”
Poet: Mustafa Abdulmalek Al-Sumaidi
From: Yemen
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

I was the present
advanced by the past,
the Before not yet decreed by law,
and I found myself in tomorrow,
standing on the edge of a moment
in which I had no need to exist.
I am no negation inscribed in time,
nor imbalance in the harmony of the Absolute.
Unable to decipher myself—
rather, it was the world that rose in my wake,
bearing a philosophy at odds
with the almanac of my being.
How did my potential self wander in meaning?
I know not…
Whenever I ready myself
within the realm of the possible,
the impossible precedes me–
as many years as my life–
lest I become a certainty
that needs no faith.
Sometimes I retreat into empiricism,
hoping to find echoes that mirror me,
though I fail in every refuge, seriatim.
And whenever I shift my course,
wholly immersed in abstraction,
my eyes open upon vast expanses
humanized by imagination,
yet I see myself not as I ought to be.
Even the voice I harbour deep within

rises in vain,
like an autumn wind
whispering to a leafless tree.
Is what now gushes forth from my inkwell
merely an attempt at an endless journey
meandering without destination?
Whoever fails to find me
will find me in the hush of a shelf,
where dust is thought to be
another form of eternity.
©® Mustafa Abdulmalek Al-Sumaidi

87.
Poem: “BARDS : ARTISANS OF EMOTIONS “
Poet: Somdatta Mitra.
From: India.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Bards are not bad , they create beauty through pen ,
Their charm is an efflorescence that lingers on like a sweet scent.
Their words are magic , a flow that instils life into a page,
They can portray life in their varied characterisation in an assuage.

Their emotions float in the verses that keep culture alive ,
They enliven their imaginations in like a burning flame to connive.
Bards aren’t bad , they are the real mirror ,
They bring the rational or fantasy into society ‘s reflection in whispers.

Their courage to reveal every single emotion raw and true ,
Their efficiency in constructing impactful poems shine and brew.
Bards are the weavers of words and dreams ,
Their perceptions paint various themes that connote strong foundations.

They hold a mirror to society’s face ,
Reflecting truth and a timeless sacred space.
Bards are not bad , they are the torchbearers of holy paths ,
With righteousness they greet the nature and embrace millions of peacemakers.
©® Somdatta Mitra

88.
Poem: “When Love Meets Us”
Poet: Kang Byeong-Cheol.
From: the Republic of Korea.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Everyone longs for love,
searching far for its radiant flame.
But love is not a roadside gem,
nor found in sunsets or science’s name.
It hides not in beauty’s shallow face,
but calls from deeper, higher grace.
A rose blooms when love is near,
fed by care, sunlight, and cheer.
Love is compassion, gentle and true,
without which no life can renew.
Beyond the fence, a rose may say:
“I see love, I hear love, I love it each day.”
Its price is not wealth, nor power’s disguise,
but pride surrendered, and hearts made wise.
Love does not come from law or decree,
It blooms within, where the soul is free.
©® Kang Byeong-Cheol.

89.
Poet: Chen Hsiu-chen陳秀珍
Poem: “Character”字
From: Taiwan Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The character you once
chased with your life is
the hearth in winter
the ice of summer.
Music loses its melody,
Fauvism loses its color,
Dance loses its limbs
when you destroy
that character.

Lips grow unfamiliar,
The pen disintegrates
when that character
faints from misunderstanding.

It falls from the sky, broken-winged,
Strikes the reef at sea,
Gets lost in dense forests—
the character that yesterday
lifted you to the clouds.

Hiding in a thousand-page dictionary,
The endangered character
is about to abandon you,
vanishing into history.
©® Chen Hsiu-chen陳秀珍

90.
Poem: “THE SUN KNOWS THE WAY BACK”
Poet: Sanjit Gupta.
From: India 🇮🇳
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

People have become clever players,
smiles ready, truth kept somewhere behind.
They lie so gently, so casually,
even honesty begins to doubt itself.
Conscience learns the art of silence,
guilt forgets its own address.
Mistakes do not lower their eyes anymore,
they simply wear new excuses like fresh clothes.

Some eyes no longer look for love,
they look for open doors and easy chances.
Hearts become waiting rooms,
feelings become things to use and leave.
By evening the soul feels a little worn,
like an old song played too many times.
Small hurts gather quietly inside,
memories sit where hope once lived.

Then the sun sinks, slow and beautiful,
not defeated, only resting its light.
The red sky gathers the day’s broken pieces,
all the almosts, all the unsaid dreams.
Night hums like a soft promise,
a pause between two lines of a song.
Because beyond the dark, without any noise,
morning is already walking toward us.

Life is just like this faithful sun,
sometimes fierce, sometimes gentle,
it may fade for a while from our eyes,
but it always knows the way back.
©® Sanjit Gupta,

91.
Poem: “The Remorse”
Poet: Tajalla Qureshi
From: Pakistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The Remorse—
Ineffably great arcs into perilously bloodshed,
Celibacy seems excessively forgranted
and existence swings away, swat the head
— bluntly unread

The Direction—
a faded dimension,
steel away the valid introspection
and here as breathing in Eliot’s Waste Land
—sorrowed sensation
The Heart—
carries heights of remorse and mourn
battling with being a demeaned dawn
where once a cherished chirp heard in the lawn
— the pity pearl once born

The appearance—
Inscrutable now, analysing the enigmatic script
Overexcessiveness; injurious to innocent lipped
Reckon high, ample, the nowhere is nowhere now,
—glitters darkly skipped

Recalling the voices—
Investment airs and arouses the attachments
Regretting high to expand in every second—attention
to a blurred universe, to a designed detection
—now clinging the left innocence

The Dyspnea—
as Plath’s Bell Jar, and Allan’s The Telltale Heart
truly blown away the halcyon, bamboozle gale often apart
the blissful lost it’s blessed nightingale—here losing knot
—Hardy’s the darkling thrush starts.
©® Tajalla Qureshi

92.
Poem: “A Journey Bottle Carry Wave”
Poet: Hanh Chau.
From: San Jose, California-USA.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

A salt spray kiss on glass 
comes in an envelope fold
with carrying words in the
handwritten notes in a bottle
riding in a slow-motion way
a silent and murmuring sound
traveling in a quiet moment of
flowing from a long distance
cradling with the rhythm flows
take on a roller coaster
echoes linger in depth
resonant sound of a whisper
ocean travel tidal wave
with a musical symphony display
by a sunlight beam, dance sway
in a splendor, mesmerizing scene
beneath the endless and vast sky
a warm breeze, an enticing sign

with an untold story
where the secret of the
lonely heart resides
deliver the message in a
search for a connection
with a hope of promise

to find a soul mate
to be reunited for a
solace embrace
©® Hanh Chau

93.
Poem: “Lethargy”
Poet: Ayesha imran
From: Pakistan
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The weight of exhaustion increasing day by day.
Life is full with debilitation and nothing left to say.

The weight of my worries is suffocating me
A never ending life of anxiety and misery

The meaninglessness of my life exhausting me
My heart drawn in a deepest sea

Every step of foot, i take, feels like a grind
I won’t give up now, i’ll leave my fears behind.

I’m tired to finding myself in every way
In darkness, noise, and also day
©® Ayesha Imran

94.
Poem: “PEARLS OF YOUR WORDS”
Poet:Irena Jovanović.
From: Serbia
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Pearls of Your words
flow down the light rays
like down threads while
creating necklaces
just coming and coming
milky white, mild, and rounded
soothing and smooth
creating a necklace of words
jewelry of poems
that You pour into my heart
into my mind
around my aura
making me be pearly
totally dived in that ocean of whiteness
and soft shine
in merciful areas
of Your inner treasures, Lord
Your words are my opulence
my intrinsic wealth generated
through manifold lifetimes of eons
pearl by pearl, word by word
to pass Your message
to transmit Your bliss
just like a feathered pen
touching the peak
of Your brilliance
©®Irena Jovanović.

95.
Poem: “Air of Peace”
Poet: Andromache Benekou.
From: Greece.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Air cries
at the sight of burnt crops
bullets in the blackened sky
brought death to birds…

Air grieves
hungry children on the street
without a mother, without a parent
on the wounded shoulder
of their parents!

Air is surprised
by violent humanity
turns to God
to exorcise barbarity…

Air prays
at the arrival of newborns
far from the cannonade
with coverings of Angels and of wings!

Air dreams
the plows, the plowed fields
raisins, dried grapes on the gardens!!
tranquil praying people in congregation!

Air rejoices
a star twinkles
echoes in the sky
Peace resounds!

©Andromachi Benekou

96.
Poem: “Don’t Forget To Be Woman!”
Poet: Elpiola Lluka.
From: Albania 🇦🇱
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

“I am a woman. The world belongs to me!”
When the vulgarity comes around you,
as a mandala underneath your soul;
When the nature tries to despise too;
Don’t forget to be woman, show your goal!

When your eyes are blinded to see,
your inner self in this world;
When a genious starts to deny your reality,
Don’t forget to be woman, silence is like sword!

When the falsity earns your stripes,
and takes off the delirious mask;
When the modesty is precious like king’s wipes;
Don’t forget to be woman, kindness is the best task!
©® Elpiola Lluka.

97.
Poem: “The language of the heart”
Poet: Abduqahhorova Gulhayo
From: Uzbekistan.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The heart has a language — it speaks without words,
In glances and in silence, it hides its secrets.
Sometimes it cries out while remaining still,
Only the one who listens truly understands it.

The tongue may deceive, but the heart never does,
It always beats with truth, steady and full.
At times, it falls back to the ground in pain,
Even if it breaks, it beats once again.
©® Abduqahhorova Gulhayo

98.
Poem: ” SHADOWS OF DECEIT “
Poet: Noel Chukwuebuka Ogbaji
From: Nigeria
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

As twilight’s shadows creep, the hour draws near
When empty promises pierce, like autumn’s bitter air
Governments weave deceit, a tangled web of lies
Leaving wretched souls to wither, as hope says goodbye

Manifesto mirages dance, like desert sands astray
Schools crumble, hospitals weep, market squares decay
The poor’s faint whispers turn to anguish’s mournful sigh
As pain becomes their lot, and death draws nigh

Children languish, starved of learning’s sacred fire
Education’s distant dream, a fleeting, ghostly desire
Rise, oppressed ones, rise! Let indignation be your cry
Demand the rights you’ve been denied, let justice pierce the sky

Reject the hollow vows, the treacherous, whispered lies
Let truth be your banner, let freedom be your sigh
Fight for your birthright, don’t settle for scraps of bread
Aspire for greatness, let your spirit soar ahead

In this world’s darkened night, where shadows reign supreme
Can’t we forge a brighter dawn, where love and hope are beckoned?
A land of promise, where all can thrive and grow
Let’s ignite the flame, let justice glow!

Arise, come forth, and cast your vote with eyes wide open
Choose wisely, don’t be swayed by empty, fleeting tokens
You’ve been deceived before, but claim your power now
Demand accountability, let your future shine like morning’s vow
©® Noel Chukwuebuka Ogbaji
Bio: “Noel Chukwuebuka Ogbaji, a proud graduate of Imo State University, Class of 2021, with a degree in Language Education English from the Faculty of Education. Born to Mr. & Mrs. Christopher Ogbaji, he’s the second son hailing from Umuewere Nguru, Ngor Okpala LGA, Imo State, Nigeria. A creative mind, Noel is the author of ‘OBIDIKE’ (a short story) and ‘The Echo Within’ (a poem collection)”

99.
Poem: “A Life: A Trilogy”
Poet: Steven David Lampley.
From: United States
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

A LIFE: A TRILOGY

Part One: The Arrival

Poverty stricken,
that’s putting it kindly.
No crib, a dirty,
worn mattress,
piss stains,
cigarette stench in the walls.

He arrived to no joy,
no smiles.
Another mouth needing food.
Number three on the list,
just a body needing space.

His cries, unanswered.
Mother’s eyes sunken and his
father fled to some
midnight promise of
lady who slipped out by dawn.
His parents were the streets,

they knew him.

At seven,
alleyways were friends.
A teddy bear he found in a dumpster,
missing an eye,
he held tight at night,
as he imagined his mom
might have held him…
she never did.
Beer bottle caps and smoky
butts of cigarettes were games
he imagined on his own.

His domain,
broken glass, hunger, and
hopelessness.
Other kids had good clothes,
smiles, and parents.
They had things he didn’t.
His anger grew,
mostly turned inward.

His clinched fists were
for food, territory.

At twelve,
he realized he was alone,
no one was coming,
no one to bring him out of the streets,
no one smiling, “you matter.”
He was nothing to no one.
He wondered what love was like.

Part Two: The Struggle
Manhood came early,
but to most,
twelve was still a child.
Life had no soft words for him,
no love, no hugs,
just the reality of
concrete and survival and
a pervert offering cash.

Hunger was always.
His stomach and heart, gnawing.
He was hollow,
still existing.

He had jobs,
now and then,
the ones others never wanted.
Archaic stone structures with
choking thick smoke and, warehouses.
Maybe he’d work a month…
if he was lucky, but
fights and the bottle
got in the way.

A man without a face amongst
concrete that never cared.

Love was unknown to him,
just an occasional alley thing.
Each took and left
him lonelier than before.

Shy of forty,
lost chances.
He had no dreams,
not anymore,
never did, really.
Fantasies to never come true.
Hope was a bad con man,
the streets taught him that.

Older now, slower,
but the same hunger
the same streets,
and same dank hopelessness.
He’d chuckle out loud sometimes,
at the absurdity of life.

Part Three: The End

Not remembering well,
sixty-three?
He was not even noticed any more.
His face, haggard, torn, lifeless.
Years of fighting, surviving,
taken their part and left a cracked shell,
as a crack in the sidewalk that
everyone stepped on, over.

The occasional jobs
shut down,
too old, slow, a carcass.
Taking a space of
someone who
could produce.
Not even the factories wanted his time.

He begged,
stole a pack of Ramen or six,
and had a dumpster route.
His hunger was not the same,
it was in his bones.

The empty bottles of escape
all around his space in the alley,
dumpster behind Friedman’s.

He felt it coming,
colder, deeper inside.
Air was scarce within his lungs.
Coughing.

He had nothing to lose,
he never had anything.

He died,
it was quiet,
he passed sitting,
leaning on the pipe behind Friedman’s.

He had peed himself and
clutched tightly, his teddy bear
as if his mom was holding him as a child.
He always wondered what that would
have been like.
©® Steven David Lampley
Bio: Steven David Lampley is an American poet whose work speaks from the hard edges of lived experience rather than safe distances. A military veteran and former police officer, including time in high-crime and poverty-stricken communities, Lampley writes with an unflinching honesty shaped by trauma, loss, and long service to others. His poetry gives voice to the forgotten—the homeless, the hungry, the addicted, the abused, and those surviving at society’s margins, without sentimentality or false hope. A number one bestselling author, Lampley is best known for his raw free-verse style, where grief, exhaustion, and endurance coexist in stark, stripped-down lines. His work has appeared in literary magazines, including The Uncommon Courier, and in books such as Breathing Through the Chaos. Lampley’s poetry does not aim to comfort; it aims to tell the truth, and in doing so, offers recognition to those who rarely see themselves reflected on the page.

100.
Poem: “Ramadan, an Epitome For Compassion:”
Poet: Ahmed Farooq Baidoon.
From: Egypt.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

The advent of the crescent with glad tidings,
Here comes the holy Ramadan with inspiring blessings,
filaments of celestial forays send off infatuating basil,
Likewise hearts do yearn beguile of tears,
On seeing lantern glitches and psalms everywhere,
The entire planet Earth mingle with that sanctity in a love affair,
Paradise Ryan Gates twinkle manifest clear,
Musk and telepathic fauna reciprocate that cheer,
As if the divine forgiveness and benediction Verily shower thine soul,
Fasting will be there with affectionate goal,
Grudge-free, free from abominable obscenity,
Such inviolable purgatory shall attain prevalent serenity,
Be it an abstention of all obnoxious deed,
Be it that revelation oath to back in shape for humanity feed,
Let alone an equinox tethered all to the Almighty straightforward creed,
Let alone the rich and the poor stand side by side in a transcendental need,
A endeared scape-route for all skewed inclined in aberration;
In the hope for a safeguard refuge to chastise with supplication,
Not only conformity to erecting prayers and prostration with Glorious Lord calls recline in shrines,
But also vigils of amity and fraternity, whatsoever you embrace diverse lines,
Ramadan is that liferaft for sinful being to live again,
Behold and hearken such truthfulness vanguard, otherwise doomed in vain.
©® Ahmed Farooq Baidoon.

101.
Poem: “A Poet In the Silent shadows”
Poet:winnie Kinya
From: Kenya,Africa.
Primelore published Date:Tuesday, 03 March 2026.

Meet me halfway
I have given my all,
Walking these endless halls,
Falling,weighted, bruised,
While you seem untouched, unmoved.

Stories too heavy to tell,
Echoes of what I recall
You sit and wait,
Watching in silence
Distant,Aloof,Miles away.

We’re apart, tangled in uncertainty.
Is this a crossroads, or the quiet end
Of a love once golden,
Alive with laughter, sunlight, and glow?

I’m crawling now, dragging what’s left
Who will catch us
As we crumble, piece by fragile piece?
We’ve stumbled upon thorns,
And, darling, you don’t hear me
I’m pricked, I’m bleeding,
Tears howl through me,
I’m drowning
Swept by rivers I can’t control.

How did we come to this?
No blame, no fight
Let’s take the fall,
Then rise again,
Erase what was never ours to hold.

So come,meet me halfway.
Let this sacrifice be our staying,
Our lasting,
Our way to go on.
Some loves don’t arrive with thunder ,
they rise like tides~ Apoet in the Silent Shadows
©® Winnie Kinya
Bio: My name is winnie Kinya. I am 43yrs old from Kenya,Africa. I go by the stage name Apoet in the Silent Shadows ( Hushed Scribe) I am a poet, singer ,author and blogger.

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