The deluge

[Mark Cecil]

The deluge (2nd edition)

The great deep swells up sapphire walls above
and the great multitude hem in through the gap
with much trodding and slipping along
they move forward and they pick up the pace,
their steps stab into the dark mire below.
But I struggle, my legs become weak 
and give way, soon I am brought to my knees
snaking through much dirt and soggy ground
before becoming bereft of all movement

A great din of horses are behind me
their hooves roar like thunder along the way
my people pass over the horizon
I look back and see my oppressors
their faces wrinkled with hate and anger
with bows at full stretch and javlons ready
They come closer as each second passes
And yet I still remain unmoved on the ground.
They come so close that I can see 
the very whitening of their vengeful eyes
Then the walls come crashing down from above
And the great deluge sweeps them away
devouring the narrow path of salvation

My heart pounds and throbs greatly within me  
and I’m filled with inexpressible joy
I thank my saviour for allowing me,
to witness such a wondrous spectacle
miraculously I find the strength to stand
and walk over the ridge to my people.
I enter a camp of jubilation
with women dancing with tambourines
and men blowing their trumpets loudly
a man comes to greet me from the camp
“where have you been?” He asks me earnestly
“you’ve missed the song of Moses and Miriam.”
“Tell me.” He asks,  “Are you the last man?”
“yes.” I reply, “But I feel like the first.”

The deluge (1st edition)

I walk through the narrow marshy path,
with my newly liberated people,
Death behind us glory before us,
As we move forward they pick up the pace,
I struggle, My run becomes a walk,
My walk becomes nothing but a crawl,
Until I lay static on the ground,


The sound of horses are behind me
My people pass over the horizon
I look back and see my oppressors
I see torturers of my captivity
They come closer as each second passes
And yet I still remain unmoved on the ground.


They come so close that I can see the
very whitening of their heathen eyes
Then the walls come tumbling down from above
And the great deluge sweeps them away


My heart pounds and throbs greatly within me  
And I’m filled with inexpressible joy
I thank my saviour for allowing me,
To witness such a wondrous spectacle
Miraculous I find the strength to stand
And walk over the ridge to my people.


I enter a camp of jubilation
A man comes to greet me from my people
“Where have you been?” He asks me earnestly
“You’ve missed the song of Moses and Miriam.”
“Tell me.” He asks,  “Are you the last man?”
“Yes.” I reply, “But I feel like the first.”

[Erthona]

A lot of cliche. A lot of telling. Clumsy phrasing such as "I see torturers of my captivity". Did these people torture your captivity? If not it should be worded differently. Only in retrospect can the Egyptians be called heathen, as this is in the present tense it is not applicable. "Miraculously"
______________________________________________
typesetting
As a service to your reader(s), please do not cap the start of every line. That was originally a necessity related to typesetting. Capping the lines in print went out in the 1950's, primarily because it was no longer a need in typesetting, and it was less confusing to the reader. Most people coming up through the school system tend to read poetry either in text books or in anthologies. The compilers of these texts prefer not to use copyrighted material, which leaves more of the older material that is typeset in the old way, giving the impression that is how it should be done which is an unfortunate misapprehension. As it does nothing positive to the poem, but in fact weakens it, it is not a style, but an affectation.


Best,


dale

[Mark Cecil]

The deluge (2nd edition)

The great deep swells up sapphire walls above
and the great multitude hem in through the gap
with much trodding and slipping along
they move forward and their pace increases,
as their steps stab into the dark mire.
But I struggle, my legs become weak
and give way, soon I am brought to my knees
snaking through much dirt and soggy ground
before becoming bereft of all movement

A great din of horses are behind me
their hooves roar like thunder along the way
my people pass over the horizon
I look back and see my oppressors
their faces wrinkled with hate and anger
with bows at full stretch and javlons ready
They come closer as each second passes
And yet I still remain unmoved on the ground.
They come so close that I can see
the very whitening of their  vengeful eyes
Then the walls come crashing down from above
And the great deluge sweeps them away
devouring the narrow path of salvation

My heart pounds and throbs greatly within me  
And I’m filled with inexpressible joy
I thank my saviour for allowing me,
To witness such a wondrous spectacle
Miraculously I find the strength to stand
And walk over the ridge to my people.
I enter a camp of jubilation
with women dancing with tambourines
And men blowing their trumpets loudly
A man comes to greet me from my people
“Where have you been?” He asks me earnestly
“You’ve missed the song of Moses and Miriam.”
“Tell me.” He asks,  “Are you the last man?”
“Yes.” I reply, “But I feel like the first.”

Hopefully this is an improvement on what you've suggested.  I'll probably need to look at it again to make more changes.  If there is anything else you think I could change please make specific references. I  am willing to take criticism so long as it helps me learn.

[Erthona]

Need to be careful of repetitive verbiage such as "A man comes to greet me from my people". Should be

"A man comes to greet me"  That it is from his people is obvious.

For a line by line sort of critique you need to post in serious. What I wrote is about what is expected in this section. A few generalized pointers along with a couple of specific examples. However in serious you will really get slammed. Not in a mean way, but everything will be examined and commented on and maybe not much of what is currently here will survived unscathed. I could probably make a comment about something on 3 out of 4 lines. Example:

I walk through the narrow marshy path, (two adjectives "narrow" and "marshy" read awkward setting next to each other. Possibly "narrow marsh path")

with my newly liberated people, (generally you can drop the adjective of "newly" as it is implied)

Death behind us glory before us, (not exactly accurate, "Slavery behind us, freedom in front of us".)

As we move forward they pick up the pace, (this is an awkward line, as you attempt to make a distinction between "we" which includes the speaker and "they" the group without the speaker, but this slows the pace of the poem as the reader tries to figure out what is being said, creating disruption.)

Best,

dale

[ellajam]

Hi, Mark, it's recommended that you post your edit above the original by editing the OP. That way anyone new to the thread will critique the current version. Welcome to the site.

Sorry El I missed that one, should have pointed it out. Good catch. dale

[Coquette16]

This is a very vivid and well-paced poem. It tells a story, which could be a metaphor for a lot of struggles and successes and the feelings associated. 
In a few places I added some comments, but keep in mind that I read the 2nd edition before the 1st edition, and both for the first time.



The great deep swells up sapphire walls above
and the great multitude hem in through the gap
with much trodding and slipping along   ("trotting" or "trodding"?)
they move forward and they pick up the pace,
their steps stab into the dark mire below. (great imagery!)
But I struggle, my legs become weak 
and give way, soon I am brought to my knees (it seems a new line or semicolon should be used in place of the comma here)
snaking through much dirt and soggy ground ("much" dirt, a bit redundant?)
before becoming bereft of all movement

A great din of horses are behind me
their hooves roar like thunder along the way
my people pass over the horizon
I look back and see my oppressors
their faces wrinkled with hate and anger
with bows at full stretch and javlons ready (javelins?)
They come closer as each second passes
And yet I still remain unmoved on the ground. (still-remain-unmoved: redundant?)
They come so close that I can see 
the very whitening of their vengeful eyes
Then the walls come crashing down from above
And the great deluge sweeps them away
devouring the narrow path of salvation (great line!)

My heart pounds and throbs greatly within me  
and I’m filled with inexpressible joy
I thank my saviour for allowing me,  (no comma)
to witness such a wondrous spectacle
miraculously I find the strength to stand
and walk over the ridge to my people.
I enter a camp of jubilation
with women dancing with tambourines
and men blowing their trumpets loudly
a man comes to greet me from the camp
“where have you been?” He asks me earnestly
“you’ve missed the song of Moses and Miriam.”
“Tell me.” He asks,  “Are you the last man?”
“yes.” I reply, “But I feel like the first.”  (Great final line--wraps up the story of the poem, concludes the emotional and physical struggle and leaves the reader with a sense of closure and positivity.)