PMQuinns

"Flames of Yore and Other Poems" is a captivating collection of many compressed stories that skillfully weave together a collection of emotions and themes, showcasing the versatile and evocative power of narrative poetry. Through the adept use of various poetic tools, the author takes readers on a journey that spans the depths of human experience.
The title poem, "Flames of Yore," serves as the anchor for the collection, delving into the nostalgia and complexities of memories, like smoldering embers from the past. Each verse is a brushstroke, painting vivid images that dance between melancholy and warmth.

The anthology embraces a spectrum of themes, exploring the intricacies of love, loss, resilience, love, and solitude. The poet masterfully employs metaphors and similes to create a rich and immersive experience, inviting readers to reflect on their own relationships and vulnerabilities.

The collection turns its gaze to the natural world, celebrating the beauty and mystique found in the delicate balance of existence. From the rhythmic cadence of raindrops to the silent majesty of mountains, the poet uses vivid imagery and sensory language to evoke a profound connection to the environment.

The collection also delves into the human psyche, exploring the complexities of identity, self-discovery, and resilience. It captures the spirit of rising from adversity, using powerful symbolism to convey the transformative nature of overcoming challenges.

"Flames of Yore and Other Poems" is not merely a collection of verses but a poetic odyssey that utilizes rhyme, meter, symbolism, and other literary devices to craft a symphony of emotions. Through its exploration of diverse themes, the anthology becomes a mirror reflecting the myriad facets of the human experience, inviting readers to find solace, inspiration, and introspection within its pages.

Flames of Yore

Ticktock, a year and another down,

I've cried crimson and crystals of pain,

On the loss of you, sunrise to sundown.

On the loss of moments I'll never regain,

Lost cuddles and gentle minutiae of your lives,

A palpable agony like the stab of a million knives.

If it be said that a system has been unjust, it is this,

For the greased lawman's palms have held firm,

Enough to tear a child's life apart to appease,

The appetence of one who means but harm,

One who'd separate a child from the mother,

And deal a perpetual struggle to a toddler.

How could I bear the sight of their clothes?

How could I not crumble under such weight?

How could I not break under such heavy blows?

How could I not dissolve into tears over such fate,

That I am not to see the children I have brought forth,

For law denies my value to them from birth thenceforth.

Why should I not share in the parenting of my children?

How am I to survive these intractable custody battles?

When every turn in the law is so frustration-ridden?

When to the law my cries are but vacuous babbles!

What am I to do but be strong for my babies,

And hope I'll still be in their memories.

A lawman’s Palms