Edit 2: The Scale in Amenthes

[alonso ramoran]

The Scale in Amenthes 
 
I. 
Her feather in a golden dish 
ascending for the heavens 
has the weight I truly want 
because below there is a crocodile head 
pulling on his gluttonous gullet 
towards the slightest waver on the scale 
for the juicy wishy-washiness of hearts. 
 
II. 
I would like my consciousness 
to be carried by a dancer's feet 
    or by six of them atop a pond 
both dancing to applauding sounds 
either from the observant dark 
    or the grove of elm wood trees 
of the people's wonder, satisfied, 
    or the cicadas' apathy. 
 
III. 
It is time that I untie my tongue 
and toss out all those wads of leather 
that I call my dress up shoes 
and buy those black and shiny Oxfords 
for some ceremony or an interview. 
 
IV. 
  There are nights ahead 
when somnolence will shuffle 
and blend those bodies of ink; 
  there are nights ahead 
when wondering will push our 
bodies into a clumsy whole. 
 
Both go hand in hand 
when rushing into campus 
with a strand of hair that's out of place 
or a button on your shirt  
oddly closer to your collar— 
when time has passed  
so suddenly; 
 
and my palms would be molting 
and rough, my body and mind 
would be remade in that exercise 
of digging with shovel and spade 
for those sparkling 
ring-worthy jewels 
the plume should outweigh. 

Edit 1: The Scale in Amenthes  
 
Ma'at's feather in a golden dish
ascending for the heavens
has the weight I truly want
because below there is a crocodile head 
pulling on his gluttonous gullet 
towards the slightest waver on the scale 
for the juicy wishy-washiness of hearts. 
 
I would like my consciousness 
to be carried by a dancer's feet 
    or by six of them atop a pond 
both dancing to applauding sounds 
either from the observant dark
    or the grove of elm wood trees
of the people's wonder, satisfied, 
    or of the cicadas' apathy. 
 
It is time that I untie my tongue 
and toss out all those wads of leather 
that I call my dress up shoes 
and buy those black and shiny Oxfords 
for some ceremony or an interview. 
 
There are endless nights ahead 
  whose somnolence will nudge 
  those boring bodies off a page; 
and there are nights ahead 
  whose wandering will push 
  our bodies into a clumsy whole.
 
Both go hand in hand 
when rushing into campus 
with a strand of hair that's out of place 
or a button on your shirt  
oddly closer to your collar; 
neglected as the sense of time. 

When I am near thirty 
I'd expect that my grip is callused and rough 
and my mind is as sharp as the edge
    of a genuine smile 
and my body's remade in that exercise 
of turning up soil with shovel and spade 
for those sparkling ring-worthy stones  
       the plume should outweigh.


Original: The Scale in Amenthes 

Does the heart outweigh the plume?
Ammit would impatiently assume.
Sooner they would cut the baggage
And lose upon a rite of passage 
A shoe to wedded birds of feather?
But see the wilted stems and golden blooms.

The faces in the observant dark,
The Black-eyed Susan’s in an elm wood park. 
Those dog days spent where offered umbrage 
And firstly clutch some thistled corsage 
The second they would trace a pond.
No more, they can get on fine apart. 

Discovered light succeeds the place of absence; 
A loosened eye among the glowing masses. 
Once would shadows cast a face in doubt 
And trudge through shadows drunk and stout 
And lumber with a heel or two. 
Now all it takes is a little practice 

To get to moving feet to quickened drummers 
As water skippers in the going summers. 
Cicadas’ chirping all around, 
And bang the skins till loudest drum astounds. 
From the silence of the theatre bursts 
Magnificent applause and mummer. 

Years to don the robe and the stole;
Somnolent nights in academia’s hold.
Bodies wander and shuffle, and to its effect 
Show the shears, at their wake, its binding neglect. 
Where the whitewater winds to the sea 
A soul piece softly poised in the shoals. 

I, for nearing the third decade,
Have dug with shovel and spade 
For gems to adorn your finger. But bones 
O bones in the soil! Well, what curious light shone 
The callused, though careless, finger a-glimmer. 
Should then the feather weigh down like a stone

[Achebe]

This reads like it was composed on a random word generator.
"What curious light shone the callused, though careless, finger a-glimmer" is grammatically nonsensical, like practically every other line in the poem.

---

I'll repeat my earlier advice here - try not to write in a highfalutin poetic style. The poets who did that 200 years ago did so because that's how people spoke back then. Shakespeare sounds convoluted to us, but his jokes were understood by the rabble in the front rows. If you try to write like that, without an actual understanding of grammar as it was back then, you'll end up with a hodgepodge that wouldn't have made sense back then or now. For instance, L2-L4 ends with a question, but it's a mystery as to what the question is.

[alonso ramoran]

This reads like it was composed on a random word generator.
"What curious light shone the callused, though careless, finger a-glimmer" is grammatically nonsensical, like practically every other line in the poem.

---

I'll repeat my earlier advice here - try not to write in a highfalutin poetic style. The poets who did that 200 years ago did so because that's how people spoke back then. Shakespeare sounds convoluted to us, but his jokes were understood by the rabble in the front rows. If you try to write like that, without an actual understanding of grammar as it was back then, you'll end up with a hodgepodge that wouldn't have made sense back then or now. For instance, L2-L4 ends with a question, but it's a mystery as to what the question is.

Considering this for the next one I write. This and Attributing Fantasies I wrote way before coming to this site, and I just wanted to post them to see what type of feedback I'd get. But now that I received some, I see. Thanks for the feedback!

[ellajam]

Pretty dense, it will take me longer to get it but I can start.

The Scale in Amenthes

Does the heart outweigh the plume? I like the opening, although it heralds failure.
Ammit would impatiently assume. Assume what? And weighing is not an assumption, it's definitive.
Sooner they would cut the baggage Who are "they"?
And lose upon a rite of passage
A shoe to wedded birds of feather? I don't get this at all.
But see the wilted stems and golden blooms. Again, got nothing.
It seems you're expecting too much of the reader, certainly of me. A retelling or exploration of a story needs to make sense without knowing the details of the original.

The faces in the observant dark, Is it the dark that's observant?
The Black-eyed Susan’s in an elm wood park.
Those dog days spent where offered umbrage Not a fan of offered umbrage sonically.
And firstly clutch some thistled corsage
The second they would trace a pond. Can't make sense of this.
No more, they can get on fine apart.

Discovered light succeeds the place of absence;
A loosened eye among the glowing masses.
Once would shadows cast a face in doubt
And trudge through shadows drunk and stout
And lumber with a heel or two.
Now all it takes is a little practice

To get to moving feet to quickened drummers
As water skippers in the going summers.
Cicadas’ chirping all around,
And bang the skins till loudest drum astounds.
From the silence of the theatre bursts
Magnificent applause and mummer.

Years to don the robe and the stole;
Somnolent nights in academia’s hold.
Bodies wander and shuffle, and to its effect
Show the shears, at their wake, its binding neglect.
Where the whitewater winds to the sea
A soul piece softly poised in the shoals.

I, for nearing the third decade,
Have dug with shovel and spade
For gems to adorn your finger. But bones
O bones in the soil! Well, what curious light shone
The callused, though careless, finger a-glimmer.
Should then the feather weigh down like a stone

If you've got something to say here I think you could make it less obscure. I don't mean for you to give up on it but to work on each thought and make sure you're making sense. I'll keep trying, but you are not making it easy.

[Todd]

Hi, Let me give you a few comments:

The Scale in Amenthes 
 
Does the heart outweigh the plume? --Thankfully, I'd been watching American Gods which reminded me of the Egyptian afterlife. Is the heart heavier than a feather? Opening with a question isn't always the best but the phrasing sounds good to me.
Ammit would impatiently assume.--assume feels like it's here to accommodate the rhyme and not the content. Also, your meter feels inconsistent perhaps commit to a consistent number of feet or a consistent pattern. 
Sooner they would cut the baggage--The "they" just hangs there. It's unclear.
And lose amidst a rite of passage-
As I'd lose a shoe to wedded birds of feather.--I'm unclear on what you mean here. The word I think I'm supposed to key on is wedded. Perhaps I'm seeing a union separated by death--not sure.  
They'll see the wilting stems and golden blooms.--I like the contrast between wilted and golden but I'm not tying it into the content.
 
The faces in the observant dark, 
The Black-eyed Susan’s in an elm wood park.--I like the rhythm of these first two lines. It simply feels like the setup in S1 is asking for a connected list, and then you could rumble through it to add to the observation. I like the diction but it feels unconnected. 
Those dog days spent where offered umbrage--sounds awkward 
And firstly clutch some thistled corsage--so are we at a prom or formal dance. 
The second they would trace a pond.--they again 
No more, we can get on fine apart.--So now there's a sense of the dissolution of a relationship--a type of death.
 
Discovered light succeeds the place of absence;--perhaps found someone new 
A loosened eye among the glowing masses.--loosened eye sounds morbid. Especially if this is meant to say that person involved saw someone out of the crowd of options that they were interested in. 
Once would shadows cast a face in doubt--awkward phrasing, overly clunky. 
And trudge through shadows drunk and stout--drunk and stout makes me think of beer. I wonder if this layering of adjectives does anything positive here. 
And lumber with a heel or two. 
Now all it takes is a little practice 
 
To get to moving feet to quickened drummers--too many "to's" awkward 
As water skippers in the going summers. --going seems odd. Water skippers isn't bad. You could work with it.
Cicadas’ chirping all around,--I don't mind the sonics. It seems pretty basic though like saying cows mooing. 
And bang the skins till loudest drum astounds.--The second mention of drums. Neither seems to add much. Astounds does a good job telling me I should be astounded--it doesn't astound me though. I think the tag is a bit lazy. Rethink your phrasing perhaps. 
From the silence of the theatre bursts--This is the sort of line where you blend in imagery. 
Magnificent applause and mummer.--You could do something with applause and mummer--magnificent is a throwaway word. 
 
Years to don the robe and the stole;
Somnolent nights in academia’s hold.
Bodies wander and shuffle, and to its effect 
Show the shears, at their wake, its binding neglect. 
Where the whitewater winds to the sea 
A soul piece softly poised in the shoals. 
 
I, for nearing the third decade,
Have dug with shovel and spade 
For gems to adorn your finger. But bones 
O bones in the soil! Well, what curious light shone 
The callused, though careless, finger a-glimmer. 
Should then the feather weigh down like a stone 

As I'm in mild let me stop there. I hope you can use something from the comments.

Best,

Todd

[alonso ramoran]

Reworked the whole thing. Open to any new critique

[Yjack123]

IMHO it still needs re-write.  Not getting a lot of clarity.  It's like you are trying to be obtuse when it's not necessary just to seem "poetic" in some places while missing out on some better adjectives in others.  This gives it an overall cloudiness and unevenness that I suspect you don't really want.  Just one opinion, though.

[alonso ramoran]

IMHO it still needs re-write.  Not getting a lot of clarity.  It's like you are trying to be obtuse when it's not necessary just to seem "poetic" in some places while missing out on some better adjectives in others.  This gives it an overall cloudiness and unevenness that I suspect you don't really want.  Just one opinion, though.

Thank you for your input Jack. Could it be an unclear blend of myth in the poem? I'll try to use better descriptors when rewriting.