This Poem was Submitted By: Sherri L. West On Date: 2004-04-20 22:44:01 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Last Visit

Tires crunched on the gravel drive, my heart thumped in anticipation. Lemon trees burdened with spring’s  first blossoms blessed the afternoon air You met us on the walkway; your frailty was unfamiliar Once sturdy limbs were now withered and wobbly I reached to hug your thin, bowed shoulders. Your wary  “Welcome-stranger-have-we-met-before” smile pierced my soul (Don’t you remember me?  My mind  stumbled in stunned disbelief; I am the firstborn of your firstborn, the special one; you told me so…) Gentle mercy sheltered you from  loss of husband and son but I lost you in the haze of the past During lazy days spent in the shade, you remembered your childhood but not mine We sipped cool lemonade and yearned to connect hearts and souls Old pictures and old memories uncovered unknown treasures. I was amazed at the you I never knew.  You recalled someone  with my name… In photos of a young woman on the  wind whipped prairie, I searched your face and found my spirit I came seeking comfort from my past and left with strength from yours You gave me a gift you didn’t know  you had. And now I know I am special, because of you... Can you see that I’m still crying?

Copyright © April 2004 Sherri L. West

Additional Notes:
In memory of my grandmother.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-05-07 13:58:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.83871
Dear Sherri, What a striking difference this is to the lighthearted poem I just critiqued. You have a well rounded gift. I enjoyed your other poem of remembrance about your grandmother and it is a wonderful prerequisite to this one. Before I comment on the poetics, I'd like to take a second here to tell you this experieince you had of showing up to visit the grandmother of your childhood and instead finding her thin, frail and senile, must have been emotionally difficult to cope with. What took place after that is something that only your heart can tell. And your heart doesn't turn tail and run. In this short poem you have captured the story of how you came to terms with this reality with grace and kept your grandmothers dignity intact. I'm sure she is smiling now. The title whispers of memories and the poem does not dissapoint. In the first stanza you stimulate those olfactory senses memories with "spring's first blossoms blessed". (nice alliteration) You employ fricatives and whispery W's to describe the beginning of this coming to terms with a cherished grandmother's inevitable physical and mental aging. The flair with which you write about this experience is inspired! I have experienced the “Welcome-stranger-have-we-met-before” smile of Alzheimers so I know how hard that had to be , yet you describe it perfectly. The phrase "I was amazed at the you I never knew" absolutely sings. You exhibit profound understanding with: "Gentle mercy sheltered you from loss of husband and son but I lost you in the haze of the past" In stanza six we find that time can not steal the bond shared between you two because it was still intact, just waiting for your hearts to recognize eachother, as kindred spirits. And Another nice alliteration in wind/whipped. One of my favorite parts is: "I came seeking comfort from my past and left with strength from yours You gave me a gift you didn’t know you had." And if your grandmother can't make you feel special, then WHO can? Thanks for sharing this, I quite simply love it.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-05-05 12:54:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97778
Dear Sherri: I read this a couple of weeks ago and wept. I intended to comment on it long before now. It is a combination that is heartbreaking, but so beautiful that I knew I would struggle with a way to communicate to you about it. You've shown us your grandmother - her spirit - her love - and you've shown us yourself and your connection with her in a way that is unforgettable. I think that the hardest things to write about are love and loss - and you've succeeded in writing about both in a way that simply takes my breath away. Without ever having met her or you, I feel so connected to this woman whose life has infused your own life with such love as to be almost indescribable. "Almost" is a very big word, but you have surpassed its barrier. Nothing can inform a poem more strongly than deep devotion and truth. Your poetic crafting is superior, as well - but what makes this poem live for me is its complete authenticity. It is a gift to read it and to offer comment. The feelings which inspired this piece give it the ability to surpass form. Tires crunched on the gravel drive, my heart thumped in anticipation. Lemon trees burdened with spring’s first blossoms blessed the afternoon air Your "crunched/thumped/burdened" are an example of the fine poetic crafting referred to earlier. The soft feel of the words "lemon trees" and "blossoms blessed" are like a blessing in themselves. The poignancy of "spring's first blossoms" prepare the reader for the contrast of your grandmother's last days. The lemon trees carry their new life like a burden, because it seems that they, too, prepare for your grandmother's final days. You met us on the walkway; your frailty was unfamiliar Once sturdy limbs were now withered and wobbly The unbelievable transformation of one once so "sturdy" who is now "withered/wobbly" seems like a travesty - as if a thief has stolen the beloved grandparent and replaced her with an elderly woman who is nearly unrecognizable in her weakness. Her frail frame does not seem sufficient to hold her great spirit. What you point out through this piece is, indeed, her great spirit. Strong enough to inspire us through your words. I reached to hug your thin, bowed shoulders. Your wary “Welcome-stranger-have-we-met-before” smile pierced my soul This is the place where I wept so much I had to leave the poem and move on. My own grandmother died of a brain tumor, so that in her final weeks, she did not recognize me at all -- nor anyone else. This was the most painful experience of my life at that time. (Don’t you remember me? My mind stumbled in stunned disbelief; I am the firstborn of your firstborn, the special one; you told me so…) You show us that you know that she doesn't remember - yet in other ways, you also show us that your connection is as strong as ever - that in the depth of her illness - she remains your center and heart. I am convinced that her soul did and does recognize you, though her physical sensorium was unable to do so. Gentle mercy sheltered you from loss of husband and son but I lost you in the haze of the past Deeply poignant words - and I hear your gratitude for the suffering she was spared. Perhaps the brain and its memories protect us from present reality when that reality is too difficult to bear - it would seem that a merciful Creator grants this grace to many. You show it here as a loss - and it is - and acknowledge that the beloved elder is spared suffering. During lazy days spent in the shade, you remembered your childhood but not mine We sipped cool lemonade and yearned to connect hearts and souls I am convinced that she yearned as much as you, that she would have made her way back to reality if she could, even including the remembrance of the loss of her husband and son to be there with you. But that door had been locked. However, the doorway of the soul is never locked. That she spoke to you on this level is so evident in this poem that I have chills. Old pictures and old memories uncovered unknown treasures. I was amazed at the you I never knew. You recalled someone with my name… A contact with her -- through the haze of failing memory - she showed that she did remember you - the 'you' of her past. I love these words - "the you I never knew." What longing is expressed to know all of her - when the realization has come that she is moving away from earthly life for good. I had to stop and take a few deep breaths to continue, as I am reminded of my granddaughter's discomfort when she sees signs of aging in me. She explained to me, at age three, that I would die someday, "But not for a long time yet." She was repeating what she had heard to comfort herself though she appeared to want to comfort me. I felt fine, but realized that my mortality is visible to her. I'd wish to spare her, but realize that I cannot do this, because, like you, she wants to know "all" of me - including the woman she senses but can never meet -- the one of the past who raised her mother. In photos of a young woman on the wind whipped prairie, I searched your face and found my spirit ----WONDERFUL! These three lines are an entire poem unto themselves. They show the connection that is stronger than life itself - the connection from spirit to spirit. What an amazing privilege it is to read these words. What a great gift your grandmother has given you, and gives you still. I came seeking comfort from my past and left with strength from yours You gave me a gift you didn’t know you had. -----(I believe that she knows now. She would give you her very self if that were possible.) And now I know I am special, because of you... Can you see that I’m still crying? I believe she does, Sherri. She knows that your crying is part of what must take place as you must cope without her. But I also believe that she sees ahead when you will be reunited with her. I feel that she is already rejoicing for you because she knows how great your joy will be then, and that will be your greatest gift to her. You have honored her and us with this poeem of remembrance. Brava, and a bouquet of her favorite flowers -- moss roses, lilies of the valley? Perhaps the purple iris. The flowers she grows in heaven are not as beautiful as the ones she has planted in your heart. Kudos, once more. All my best, Joanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-05-04 16:01:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91667
Sherri: I wanted to sample some of your poetry and this is my first look-see. The title is ominous because the finality of a "last" visit. Your format is stanzaic free verse, my favorite form. Tires crunched on the gravel drive, my heart thumped in anticipation. Lemon trees burdened with spring's first blossoms blessed the afternoon air. You met us on the walkway; your frailty was unfamiliar. Once-sturdy limbs were now withered and wobbly. I don't cut and paste...I like typing out the lines lest I miss a nuance. Tires crunching on gravel is a very solid opening phrase...good visual and auditory image. I think you could do better than "thump" for your heart for more unique phrasing. Ached, shivered, quivered, drummed, vibrated, etc. I can smell the lemon trees burdened with blossoms that blessed the air. Very well rendered with your alliteratives. Now poet encounters grandmother and is stunned by her deterioration. Frailty. unfamiliar are great together as well as withered/wobbly. I reach to hug your thin, bowed shoulders. Your wary "Welcome-stranger-have-we-met-before" smile pierced my soul. (Don't you remember me? My mind stumbled in stunned disbelief; I am the firstborn of your firstborn, the speacial one, you once told me.( so) The bowed shoulders is vivid imagery as if this woman has carried many loads in her lifetime. Her failure to recognize you hurts badly as you think of reminders in your head. Wary/welcome and stumbled/stunned add euphony and texture. "pierced my soul" is a bit overused and I think you are capable of crisper descriptors of your feelings. Your smile was a dagger wound, lanced my spirit, sabered my soul, cut like a cleaver, severed my sensibilities, etc, etc. Gentle mercy sheltered you (from) loss of husband and son but I lost you in the haze of the past. My mutations make this tercet a quatrain so the overall pattern is achieved. During lazy days you spent in the shade, you remembered your childhood but not mine. We sipped cooled lemonade and yearned (to) connect hearts and souls. Did the lemonade come from the lemon tree? Such assonance in this stanza: lazy/days/shade/lemonade. Old pictures and (old) memories uncovered (revealed?) unknown treasures. I was amazed (at) the you I never knew. You recalled someone with my name... In photos of a young woman on the wind-whipped prairie, I searched your face and found my spirit. Again, to even the tercet to a quatrain. "Searched" her face and "found my spirit" are simply exquisite. I came seeking comfort from my past and left with strength from yours. You gave me a gift you didn't know you had. And now I know I am special, because of you...Can you see that I am crying? The last stanza does not have to conform to any others. And your last two stanzas are like brush strokes from an artist using watercolors. Soft, plangent, poignant. Your epiphany in the final two stanzas is deftly defined. You found your own strength not in memories of your childhood but in memories of hers. Your grandmother also gives you the greatest of all feelings: "I am special." Do you realize how rare it is to find a poem with an epiphany? When read, it lifts my spirits like no other poems. This is a quite pleasing read, filled with special lyricism that emanates from your pen. I didn't point out a lot of your poetic devices as we both know where they are placed. The poem is a encomium to your grandmother and written with such tenderson and love, the reader senses this is from reality, what you really think of your grandmother. (As opposed to a contrived, fictional person). You have a gift with words and I hope to read many more poems from you. Best wishes, Mell Morris
This Poem was Critiqued By: Sherri L Smith On Date: 2004-05-02 16:09:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.73684
Dear Sherri, This is a wonderful tribute to your grandmother. I came to know my grandmother on Dad's side late in life, but in her, I saw where I got my love of writing, reading and so many other things that I didn't know I had that were hers. And my Dad's. My book is going to be dedicated to him, a thank you for passing his writing genes down to me. Your sincerity and love of your grandmother come through loud and clear and even though she didn't consciously know you, I know that she sensed it. I am glad that you recieved that precious gift from your grandmother. This was a very nice read, I enjoyed it very much. Sherri 2
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-04-24 18:35:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.86364
Hi Honey, I just got home but I felt it important to critique this poem as I read it while in Florida at Karen's brother's house and began a crit but was unable to complete it. First I have a question...what ever made you think you could not write??? This is a gut wrenching poem, to me, as I was there with you that day among the lemon trees and what I had prayed would not happen did..she did not know who you were. I already knew she forgot me as she thought I was 'the other Marilyn' but I did so want her to remember your face. You have done an excellent job of recounting that moment. You let the reader know how hard this was for you but also know that being with her, seeing the pictures, and hearing her speak of the past was so enlightening for both of us. You took us from the 'crunched gravel' driveway to your tears in a soft and loving way. You painted us pictures with your pen which are easy for any reader to see as we read from one line to the next. Words like 'frail, thin, bowed shoulders' are perfect descriptors for this woman we so loved for so long. The phrase...'my mind stumbled in stunned disbelief' grabed my heart and is still holding on as I fight back my own tears to write these words....'you remembered your childhood but not mine'...these words make me ache inside just as it must have done to you at that moment....'I came seeking comfort from my past and left with strength of yours' ..beautiful..haunting...then...'can you see that I'm still crying?' This is a beautiful tribute to your grandmother and one that I will remember always. Write on, my child, you have many wonderful stories to tell about your life and they are begging to get out of your heart and flow to your pen. I must quit now as the tears are stinging my eyes. I think your Aunt Pat should read both of these poems as I know she will cherish them too. Love Mom
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2004-04-22 06:37:08
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.59091
Sherri--These are the poems I have trouble reviewing: the heartfelt, sad and gutwrenching personal tragedy ones. Nothing complicated about this piece; straight forward plain language used in penning this narrative poem which indicates the depth of compassion, love, respect and reverence by the speaker for the protagonist. All the symptoms expressed throughout the piece leads this reader to believe the loved one (grandmother) was a fatal victim of the degenerative and debilitative disorder known as Alzheimer's disease. Depending on the severity/age of victim(s), it is one of the most difficult and saddest things to witness (especially if one knew the afflicted when he/she was vibrant and lucid). My favorite lines(and I had to pause before continuing): "I came seeking comfort from my past and left with strength from yours You gave me a gift you didn't know you had." (POWERFUL STUFF) Although simple, the title chosen for this tribute piece is very appropriate: it appears "The Last Visit" took place at a nursing home/facility; the verbiage/theme has a feel of finality; The essence of the visit is portrayed with descriptors which gives reader(s) such vivid imagery that tears at he heartstrings (and caused the tears of this reader to flow freely). The ending needs no expounding; it is what it is (emotional beyond words). Thanks for sharing this Elegy with fellow TPLers. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-04-21 21:10:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.66102
Sherri, I know she is nodding her approval as I type, as you wrote. What a beautiful elegy! I am so glad you have been submitting poems. I can see it runs in the family. Nothing changed would suit me just fine. What a powerful closing! Write on, masterful one. Peace. Wayne PS: I know many of my critiques are brief, but why pile on the adoration and use up valuable time and space?
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tiffany A. Christian On Date: 2004-04-21 19:23:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.16667
Sherri, hi. Sometimes I hate to work with poems like these, because I know how personal they are (my own mother is in the early stages of Alzheimer's). Still, it's hard for me not to say anything when I see so much unrealized potential to make this piece even stronger than it is. My biggest concern here (and I think this is a common grouse of mine, if you see any of my other critiques) is that there's too much "tell" and not enough "show." Poetry in particular must be dramatic in the showing of a scene, and image, because there's so much less space than in prose. Here you have a chance to have a powerful impact on the reader through this scene with the grandmother, but that impact is lessened because we see too much of the narrator's mind. For example, in the very first stanza: Tires crunched on the gravel drive, my heart thumped in anticipation. Lemon trees burdened with spring’s  first blossoms blessed the afternoon air "my heart thumped in anticipation" just gives too much away, when I'd rather see that anticipation through an image, a smell, anything but just outright saying it. (You also want to be careful of cliched sentences such as this one -- if the reader has read it before, it's going to become a turn-off). One idea is to heighten the contrast between the speaker of the poem and the grandmother by having the speaker remember something in the scent of the lemon tree blossoms, the tires on the gravel. Maybe make it a point to show the reader the difference between loving memory and anguished non-memory. You met us on the walkway; your frailty was unfamiliar Once sturdy limbs were now withered and wobbly My concern with this stanza is the passive voice ("was unfamiliar", "were now"). Using active voice will strengthen the actions, make them move the reader. I reached to hug your thin, bowed shoulders. Your wary  “Welcome-stranger-have-we-met-before” smile pierced my soul I love the third line, but the fourth line lessens the impact. I would rather just see that the grandmother can't remember the speaker; it's more heartbreaking that way. (Don’t you remember me?  My mind  stumbled in stunned disbelief; I am the firstborn of your firstborn, the special one; you told me so…) The second two lines of this stanza work for me, but the first two lines don't. Perhaps this is the only time we see into the speaker's thoughts with those second two lines, as if she is goading the grandmother into trying to remember. But the first two lines aren't necessary; we as readers probably understand the speaker's disbelief and frustration with the situation. During lazy days spent in the shade, you remembered your childhood but not mine We sipped cool lemonade and yearned to connect hearts and souls All is good for me except "and yearned to/connect hearts and souls". I like the image of the two women sipping lemonade, trying to figure each other out, but I want to see it more, and taste it, and hear it. I'm not sure how necessary the last four stanzas are. Again, this is the speaker pouring out her soul to the reader, and while that makes for fabulous memoir or nonfiction, I'm not sure it works as poetry. For me, image and sensory impressions are key, and I would stick with the images you have and make them stronger. Whew! I think that's the longest critique I've ever done. I hope I didn't offend or anything; again, I know how personal these things are. Good luck!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Marcia McCaslin On Date: 2004-04-20 23:22:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97059
Gosh, Sherri--I want to say you have your mother's gift--but we all know you have your very own. This takes my breath away--another winner for sure. Some of my favorite concepts here are: Lemon trees burdened with spring’s first blossoms blessed the afternoon air This contradiction in terms--or opposites is really stunning--burdened/blossoms/blessed “Welcome-stranger-have-we-met-before” smile pierced my soul Right here, we really realize what's going on--piercing your soul (pierced mine!) lost you in the haze of the past We are protected against everything but time, I guess. Nicely put. you remembered your childhood but not mine We sipped cool lemonade and yearned to connect hearts and souls so much emotion here in these 3 lines. YOu know she wants to connect hearts and souls--but she just can't quite get there. . You recalled someone with my name… You see, there are so many wonderful lines throughout, it would be impossible to choose. And your approach is unique, as well. wind whipped prairie, I searched your face and found my spirit Another really beautiful phrase, with the alliteration, not overpowering, only enhancing the thought. You gave me a gift you didn’t know you had. These treasures come from the 'deep, wise' you--they just seem to bubble up from somewhere and blaze their trails across the page, don't they? Can you see that I’m still crying? I think you've hit on a universal feeling here. When tragedy or even the normal "dying from old age" happen, we tend to cry in different ways for years--not always tears, but sometimes just a groaning in our spirit. But God must have intended this event to expand our spirits--perhaps that's part of why we cry--we are being expanded, a little like giving birth, we are expanded beyond what we think we can stand, but that's the way it is intended and I don't believe death is happenstance. Very nice, Sherri--Good Luck--Marcia ;+)
This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-04-20 22:46:21
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.45238
Another very touching piece of writing. The familial connections are endless sources of poetic diversions. Well done, Sherri. tom
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