Twilight on Summer

Growing up, I generally wrote poetry to express my feelings; with no intended audience I had no concern for how "good" my work sounded. However, in high school - the time of learning new SAT vocabulary and literary analysis terms - I sometimes tried to throw in words just because I had recently learned them. Other times I used words simply because I liked the sensory experience they evoked. For example, many of my poems contain the word "obsidian" because I think it conveys a darker and more mysterious picture than other options.

It is from these habits that "Twilight on Summer" was born. I wanted to write a poem about the change of seasons, but upon reading the work, it is also obvious that I wanted to use some fancy words. At the time I wrote it, I remember being very satisfied with my impressive vocabulary. Now that I am older, when I revisit the poem, I cringe. Too much of it doesn't make sense! Take a look:

Summer drains along blackened eaves
And a crimson window blows through the leaves
Mercury pearls alight on my path
Fueling the euphoria of nature's drunken wrath

Through the stillborn breath of my insomniac state
My wishes are lacerated on the wrought iron gate
And my sanctuary of dreams dissipates in the heat
Though the treasures bequeathed remain discreet

The zephyr plays with my tangled hair
And strengthens my tensions in its resounding glare
My lungs grow labored and infinitely weary
Yet the decline of the season makes my countenance teary

White turns to black, gold turns to dust
I remain unsatisfied in my burning lust
Through the evanescent disappearance of my beloved friend
I collide mortally with with my imminent end

Revived by the caress of a sympathetic breeze
I cling to ghosthood through the crashing degrees
My temperance changes like an optical illusion
But I will not surrender in the pandemic confusion

So I speak a eulogy over summer's grave
And contemplate why my own life is so worthy to save
But Autumn catches me up in her colder schemes
And summer fades into the particles of dreams

It's not ALL bad. There are some good parts. "The decline of the season makes my countenance teary" echoes the sadness I feel when summer ends. Even though I love fall, the beginning of another school year is an obvious and sometimes painful marker of the passage of time. (The line could also hint at fall allergies, but I'm pretty sure my 16-year-old self wasn't waxing poetic about that!)

Despite the fact that autocorrect tells me "ghosthood" is not a word, I like the line that includes it. The changing seasons, the start of a new school year, the march of time - all of those things can make us feel out of place, kind of like a ghost caught between two worlds.

I am pretty comfortable with the conclusion, but much of the rest of the poem needs to be overhauled. Not all poetry needs to make sense, though I prefer cohesion over confusion. I have retooled the first stanza, but I haven't yet altered the rest of the poem to my satisfaction.

Summer drains along darkened eaves
And a crimson wind blows through the leaves
Marigold petals alight on my path
Warning me of nature's coming wrath

What do you think? Does the poem make you feel some of the sensations associated with the beginning of autumn? Can it be saved, or is it a lost cause?