Late, And The Darkening Sky

I wrote this poem some years ago, when I was first trying my hand at various forms of metric rhyming verse in the 16-line (basic 4-line, 4-stanza even-structured) poem. It was written in reaction to watching the October evening sky darken, and its clouds take on a gloomy reddish hue - and it impressed me with a sentiment that I wanted to capture in writing these lines. As with my poem, "Dream of the Garden-Wood Path" (see hub by the same title) - which was composed a couple of years after this one - it makes use of a semi-blank verse form, leaving a rather free-flowing impression that relies upon both the ideas portrayed by each individual stanza, and those formed in the context of the continuous text throughout the body of the poem; as with the aforementioned, the purpose in so doing is to create a dual meaning, encapsulating a particular image and mood within each stanza, while also each contributing to the whole conception as the lines progress. I have a tendency to find pleasure in inventing words which derive linguistically from actual words commonly accepted in regular English usage, and which should be readily understandable, but will not pass a spell-check, nor may be found in any dictionary (such as "reddening" or "bittering"); occasionally, I also enjoy abbreviating words, to contribute to the somewhat archaic feel of the verse, such as my use of the word "stock's," which is meant to abbreviate the word "stockings," as in Christmas stockings, hung by the chimney with care, or "harvest fests," which is meant to refer to harvest festivals, or festivities around the autumn months. As with many of my poems, I hope to convey in this one a nostalgic sense amid changing seasons, referring to things past remembered, and things soon to come, whereby I aim to combine a feeling of longing for fond memories with a somewhat uncertain hope for such times in days to come. It reflects the melancholy spirit of one caught between two such phases of life, trying to recreate what is gone, while not wanting to let go of the old. There is a hint of remorse for what is done and past in the final verses, which anticipate the passing again of even those good things that are hoped for in hereafter months and years. I hope you enjoy its imagery and sentiment, despite its relative complexity. Thanks!

 

Late, the ever darkening sky

Doth clothe all but a reddening haze;

Leaves of summer’s wane drift by

On gusts of autumn o’er the lays

 

Of lads on dusty, bare sidewalks,

Who brag tales of days yet to come:

Of Harvest fests and Yuletide stock’s,

Beneath the cool mid-ev’ning sun

 

Pines sway, whisper wintry secrets,

High above the schoolhouse old:

Of merry meets and with’ring flowerets;

Of welcoming hearth and bittering cold

 

Foreboding of mem’ries forgot:

Voices fade ‘mid moonless chill;

Such glorious days long ere begot

Forsaketh fondness but for ill.