# Special Delivery



## Chesters Daughter (Dec 18, 2010)

A dusting of powdered sugar
did not sweeten the landscape.
The wind, dissatisfied with nipping,
began to gnaw on naked hands
that refused to relinquish their treasure.

Booted feet abandoned the tarmac
leaving behind a lonesome trail
as ghastly gusts enraged at intrusion
furiously sought to erase
the blemish of my presence.

Riled at my progress,
unseen fists hurled crystal daggers,
peppering my face with pinpricks
and reducing my eyes to slits,
but still, I trod on.

Destination achieved,
I pried purple claws
free from their prize 
to wipe clean a plaque
revealing five raised letters
bathed in lusterless gold leaf,
as frigid as the wicked wind
who claimed this place as her own.
Two, once so vital, reduced
to a name jutting from bronze
in the bosom of a field.

I weighted their gift with stones
as a greedy gale ripped 
the whisper from my lips
flinging it into infinity;
yet they heard me nonetheless.
"Why you both loved this place
is a mystery to me.
I've brought your tree."

An eruption of salted lava
was stolen from my cheeks 
by an airy thief 
as I fastened a taffeta ribbon
to keep it safe from flight
though tainted talons tugged
with ferocious might.

I turned to leave 
with her formidable force
pummellng the length of my back,
so eager was she for my departure.
As I reached the gate
I placed my face 
directly into the path of wrath
and with a smile
fought squall with squall
"Chuff all you like, you vicious bitch,
I'll still be back for New Year's!"



I dug this one up (pun intended, my parents would expect nothing less) for tomorrow is slated as Delivery day. Thanks so much for reading.


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## shadows (Dec 18, 2010)

Hi Lisa

Strong imagery and the hostility of the weather reflects well the mood of the MC bringing the tree and plaque in comemoration of I assume her parents' death.

A few things for you to consider but they are only my perspective.



> A dusting of powdered sugar
> did not sweeten the landscape.
> The wind, dissatisfied with nipping,
> began to gnaw on naked hands  Do you need naked, since that is the norm for hands?
> ...



Thanks for the read, enjoyed.


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## ODaly (Dec 18, 2010)

Winter not taking kindly to your recent poking fun, eh?

I think the environment is an underused antagonist, so it's refreshing to see something like this. At times, some of the message got a bit vague for me to follow, and instead of it being balanced by the many vivid images you've got here, I have to admit that it made it harder for me to dig into those bits. Yeah that might be a bit hypocritical coming from me considering some of the pieces I've written, but I think just a little more consistency either toward vague or vivid would've helped me out with it.

That said, I very much enjoyed reading it, and I have to commend you for making me jealous of not being able to stick to a meter.

Edit:
Also,


ChestersDaughter said:


> Riled at my progress,
> unseen fists hurled crystal daggers,
> peppering my face with pinpricks
> and reducing my eyes to slits,
> but still, I trod on.


 Looks like you could use a pair of my goggles, haha.


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## SilverMoon (Dec 19, 2010)

Beautifully sad portrait of the "visitation". Your blustery description of winter I would think represents what was going on inside your heart. In English class I learned that snow is a metaphor for death - the covering of life. Excellent!


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## Gumby (Dec 19, 2010)

I too, love the image of the last stanza. The indominatable spirit of the visitor, despite the best efforts of the weather, to be dissuaded comes through so well. You know that these works of yours that are centered around your parents always tear a little hole in my heart, and I can't see any nits through the tears that get in the way.


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## Chesters Daughter (Dec 22, 2010)

Dear Shadows, you are correct, my dear, the annual delivery of their Christmas tree to the cemetery. I used naked in lieu of ungloved, bare hands there take a severe beating. I'm seriously considering which descriptive word or words to remove from S2. This was written last year before I learned to put a cap on my overuse of adjectives/adverbs. In using furiously I hoped the reader would envision swirling snow erasing my prints. But your point is valid, it's a bit much. You're right about daggers leaving more damage than pinpricks, do you think minute crystal daggers would be better? Perhaps too many adjectives again? Salted lava I will probably retain despite it being cryptic, those tears are so hot they remind of lava, and I'm usually always cryptic, lol. I see what you're saying about "keep it safe from flight", it's confusing as to what it is, would it be better if I just eliminated that line altogether? I'm glad you loved the ending, I hate that ever present wind there, blessing in summer, bane in winter. Thanks so much for your input, love, truly appreciated.


Dear OD, I can't see how your opinion is hypocritical, I can't recall any of your pieces being confusing at all. Tell me, love, where exactly did you get confused? If you're confused, it means others probably are also and maybe I can make whatever is iffy clearer. Since I know exactly what I mean because I wrote it, I see it clearly, so my eye is blind in that respect. Usually, my stuff is pretty straightforward, but in this piece I was intentionally evasive, perhaps too much, which makes me inconsiderate to the reader. The mixture of concrete and abstract maybe hard for me to remedy, delivering that tree still seems surreal to me, Mom's only been there three years (Dad's been there twenty two) and I don't think I've accepted it yet. As for using the weather, I love to do so, inclement or clement, it provides so much fodder. So, when you have a sec, please let me know where it falters. And I'm still waiting for you to send me over the rest of your Winter piece, looking forward to it, actually. 


Dear Laurie, You hit the nail on the head, the weather within is always as tumultuous as the outside during the winter. I have a hard time going there on sunny days in the spring, the contrast of the inner turmoil clashes terribly with the peacefulness and warmth. Interesting that snow would be equated with death, something about being buried, I guess. Thank you, love.


Dear Cindy, I am so happy you like the last stanza, sometimes it feels like that never ceasing wind wants to keep us out, I still can't figure out why it's almost always windy there, perhaps because it's such a wide open space and there is no protection from buildings and such, the slightest breeze becomes a gale. Sorry for the hole in the heart, love, but the only time I manage to evoke such feeling is when I write about my parents, none of my other stuff even comes close to sentimental. I guess my yearning for their company is more apparent than I realize, but that it comes through is a blessing.


My sincere thanks to you all. 

All my best,
Lisa


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## Sync (Dec 22, 2010)

Hello.

I never know what to say about your poems because there are memories attached and have been written previously as a seemingly ode to your losses, which is very nice of you to do.

there are some nice images here. I loved the tree reference and the mention of why they liked this place, liked the last stanza(with the exception of the last line) for some reason her standing against nature all this time showed me the determination rather than telling me.

this is just my thought.

I enjoyed this piece, there was loneliness and loveliness at the same time

Sync


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## Chesters Daughter (Dec 22, 2010)

Dear Sync, Luckily, there are only two of these, both from last year, but please, love, say whatever you feel. Just because they are sentimental doesn't mean they are above crit. I'm glad you liked some parts, but I'm a little confused about the last line. I think you are saying it was unnecessary because I've already shown my determination, is that right? It is rather blunt, but I think it was important to me to say I'd be returning, and quite soon, at that, despite all efforts to thwart me. Too much? Sometimes what's left unsaid has more impact than what is. Thank your for loneliness and loveliness, which sums it up perfectly. Truly appreciate the read and your honesty.

All my best,
Lisa


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## Sync (Dec 22, 2010)

If it is important to you, especially in a personal piece, then keep it. I'm getting better at reading pieces as just pieces, but am still not quite up to snuff


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## ODaly (Dec 22, 2010)

I wouldn't say I was confused about anything, but digging in to, say, S6 for example was a bit harder. The description of tears went over my head at first, but now that I see what it was, it's much easier.


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## Chesters Daughter (Dec 24, 2010)

Dear OD, Since both you and Shadows both questioned salted lava I'm thinking that in an effort to be original, I flew out too far into outer space. I'm glad that it makes sense now, but am seriously considering changing it to something easier to grasp. Christmas coma has my mind dead, but I'm thinking, or trying to. Merry Christmas, dear.

Best,
Lisa


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## jpatricklemarr (Dec 24, 2010)

There's a song I like called "Every Tuesday Of The Week" in which the songwriter talks of his wife always talking her problems through with her father. The chorus says "She's always been her Daddy's girl... and it's a promise she will keep... to see him early in the morning... every Tuesday of the week." You go through the song with it seeming like a simple ode to the father/daughter relationship and then, right at the end it says "She's been coming here for seven years... because her love for him runs deep. Fresh flowers laid on her Daddy's grave... early in the morning... every Tuesday of the week."


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## Chesters Daughter (Dec 25, 2010)

My dearest Jeff, thank you, by sharing you made me see I'm not alone.


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## IanMGSmith (Dec 25, 2010)

Hi Lisa,

Beautiful. 

Sensed your emotion spilling into rage against the cold biting wind and secretly, revelled in your imagery.

Thanks,

Ian


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## Jane Martin (Dec 26, 2010)

'salted lava' was immediately obvious to me and I liked it, it's one of my favourite parts of this piece.  I don't think it's always a bad thing that a reader might have to think for a second to catch your meaning either.  Sometimes that is part of the effect.  I will come back to this later and leave some proper comments.  For now all I will say is that it gripped my heart and made me catch me breath.  My Daddy died 8 months ago, I still havent managed to shape my grief into words in everyday language never mind poetry, nor have I managed to visit his grave.  Maybe I transferred my own emotion onto your poem, but I think effective poetry touches what is in you.  There have been many poems that have just switched me off completely, this one was far from it.  Well done.


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## caelum (Dec 27, 2010)

Awesome stuff, Lisa, really felt the cold with all those bright details.  I found the goal of the journey sad and noble.  At first read I didn't get the salted lava but once I did I thought it was brilliant.
-cae


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## Chesters Daughter (Jan 6, 2011)

I am so very sorry for my delay in responding. Christmas is always very bittersweet, the joy of my four children fights the loss of my parents. I really couldn't approach my feelings so soon and I hope you can understand that. There are many pieces which I need to tend to, and will do so, come dawn, or perhaps a bit later in the day, but tomorrow is the day of reckoning. Thank you all for bearing with me.


Dear Ian, I am very so very honored by your words. You've a old school flavor I am quite partial to and hope you will post more soon.


Dear Jane, Thus, salted lava shall remain, since you know what I mean. I suppose it's a been there type of thing. I'm usually quite straightforward in my pieces, lousy at abstract, working on it though. That you could grasp, gives me hope. I know it sounds like crap right now, but it gets easier, this I promise. When my Da passed, it was three years before I was me again, actually refused to leave the bed and I had a newborn, Da's death and Matthew's birth happened simultaneously. He carries the middle name Chester, couldn't name him such in this day and age, but he uses it in it's full blown glory on every document. They couldn't get me to go to the cemetery at first, I refused to, all things in their proper time, you'll know. It took me three years to put it into words, but that was the first healing, your time will come. That I could touch you means heaps, if you need an ear, you have mine. God Bless you and yours in this trying time.


Dear Cae, That you seconded the salted lava kept it alive, glad you could feel the coldness of that place, yet in the spring, it's so different.


My most gut wrenching thanks to you all.

All my best, always,
Lisa


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