Poetry Wall Archives
2001
Welcome to
Payson Road's Great Wall of Poetry Archives 2001. These talented poets have graciously
offered to share their poems for the Wall.
One of Payson Road's goals is to help people by expressing themselves through
creative outlets. Poetry is one of the most passionate and intimate forms
of writing. Here, many of the poets have expressed their suffering, pain,
delight, spirituality, sexuality, frustrations, love and many other emotions
through their words. I thank them all for sharing a piece of themselves
with us.
If any of these poems touch you or inspire you. please let us know. Please
post your comments in the Guest Book.
PLEASE BE ADVISED.
.
. . . All Articles/Content are property of the author and Payson Road and subject to
US Federal Copyright Laws and International Copyright agreements.
You must seek Permission
to Reprint from the author for use of any articles/content.
Click here to
SUBMIT POETRY.
Visit the Poetry Wall for Current Poems
Table
of Contents:
The
Best of the Poetry Wall December
2001
Poetry Wall Archives 2005 | 2004 |
2003 | 2002 |
2001
Current Poetry Wall
December
2001
The
Best of the Great Wall of Poetry
The
holiday season is a wonderful time to reflect on our memories, and the great
events of times past. What better way to celebrate that, than to look back
at all the talented poets, and celebrate the holiday season with a Best
Of...look at the Poetry Wall. It has been my pleasure to be a part of this
creative outlet that Payson Road has offered. I would like to thank you
all, from the bottom of my heart, for giving us a glance in the window of your
soul. For that is what poetry is. Without everyone who so willingly
contributes to this site, we would be nothing. So thank you. Your
support for the Great Wall of Poetry is much appreciated. Have a wonderful
Holiday Season from the Payson Road community.
Peace and Love,
Leslie
Freeman, Director of the Poetry Wall
A Special Christmas Message....
This
poem was written by a Marine stationed in Okinawa Japan and submitted by a
regular poet here at Payson Road, Patty Aldridge. Thank you so much for
this wonderful example of Patriotism and the Holiday spirit!
Twas
the night before Christmas,
He
lived all alone,
In
a one bedroom house made of
Plaster
and stone.
I
had come down the chimney,
With
presents to give,
And
to see just who,
In
this home did live.
I
looked all about,
A
strange sight I did see,
No
tinsel, no presents,
Not
even a tree.
No
stocking by mantle,
Just
boots filled with sand,
On
the wall hung pictures
Of
far distant lands.
With
medals and badges,
Awards
of all kinds,
A
sober thought
Came
through my mind.
For
this house was different,
It
was dark and dreary,
I
found the home of a soldier,
Once
I could see clearly.
The
soldier lay sleeping,
Silent,
Alone,
Curled
up on the floor
In
this one bedroom home.
The
face was so gentle,
The
room in such disorder,
Not
how I pictured
A
United States soldier.
Was
this the hero,
Of
whom I just read?
Curled
up on a poncho,
The
floor for a bed?
I
realized the families,
That
I saw that night,
Owed
their lives to these soldiers
Who
were willing to fight.
Soon
round the world,
The
children would play,
And
grownups would celebrate
A
bright Christmas day.
They
all enjoyed freedom,
Each
month of the year,
Because
of the soldiers,
Like
the one lying here.
I
couldn’t help wonder
How
many lay alone,
On
a cold Christmas Eve
In
a land far from home.
The
very thought
Brought
a tear to my eye,
I
dropped to my knees
And
started to cry.
The
soldier awakened
And
I heard a rough voice,
"Santa
don’t cry,
This
life is my choice.
I
fight for freedom,
I
don’t ask for more,
My
life is my God,
My
country, my corps."
The
soldier rolled over
And
drifted to sleep,
I
couldn’t control it,
I
continued to weep.
I
kept watch for hours,
So
silent and still
And
we both shivered
From
the cold night’s chill.
I
didn’t want to leave
On
that cold, dark, night,
This
guardian of honor
So
willing to fight.
Then
the soldier rolled over,
With
a voice soft and pure,
Whispered,
"Carry on Santa,
It’s
Christmas day, all is secure."
One
look at my watch,
And
I knew he was right.
"MERRY
CHRISTMAS MY FRIEND,
AND
TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT."
index
Leslie's
Corner - December 2001
As
I embarked on creating this Best Of...edition of the Great Wall of Poetry, I
thought about how far I have come since that first fateful day I found this
purple page. This was not an easy task, picking the poems that moved me,
because quite truthfully there was something in every single poem that made it
worthy of this list. The end of the year is a reflective time for most, I
am no different. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Sarah, for
allowing me to take part in such a wonderful community as Payson Road. I
have come to this Wall many a time, when I had nowhere else to go. I would
also like to thank everyone who contributes to, and reads, the Wall, because
without you, we would be nothing.
First,
I must say, I can not believe how many poems have accumulated here. It is
a tribute to creative expression, which I hope this Best Of...edition gives
credit to. It's Just a Sandwich is one
of the very first poems I read here. I remember printing it out, and
reading it to a friend of mine, to help her gain some insight into what I was
feeling. I could barely read it, as the tears poured freely. It
inspired me, to look for a creative outlet, which I soon found in poetry.
My first poem I ever wrote, is entitled Him, and was written
about a love lost. Soon after, I wrote a poem that became my mantra in
the beginning of my recovery, and is still my favorite piece Me.
As
I said, every poem called to me, but alas, I could only pick so many. Road
by Sarah Mason was a wonderful glimpse into her feelings surrounding the Sept.
11 events. I found Look at Me deep in the
archives, but can remember thinking how it sounded like a song, the first time I
read it.
Thank
you to everyone who has contributed their poems to the Great Wall this
year.
Peace
and Love,
Leslie Freeman
Poetry Wall Director
index
Best
of Leslie's
Poetry-2001
Him
Wishing I could forget him.
Drive until I face the crazy, hurt girl.
Stupid woman-to think he would never leave.
We had a life.
Wrong.
Big, mean man; troubled boy.
Feelings explode through fire.
Shake, Scream, Swear, Cry.
Should have let go that day,
but no.
Now she is alone.
Again.
Me
Secrets,
(she never knew)
building every minute.
(she could not see us)
With every whisper,
(she didn't hear us)
our connection to each other grew.
Your wants, Your needs, Your happiness.
You consumed me.
(where did I go?)
She didn't see what was right before her.
(neither did I)
She didn't care if you were with me,
As long as she didn't have to try.
I could have loved you,
(you wouldn't let me)
given you everything she never did.
Love, Attention, Truth, Happiness.
(you didn't want it)
Still, I gave.
(more than you deserved)
Still, you took.
(you let me serve)
It never occurred to me, that I would give too much.
(and have nothing left for me)
Isn't that what nice girls do?
(why couldn't I see?)
You said you wanted what I gave.
You said you wanted me to save,
You.
Isn't that all it was really about?
You.
Your wants, Your needs, Your happiness.
You held my mirror of dreams,
then it shattered.
And I was left with me.
Broken me.
My wants, My needs, My happiness.
I couldn't make you love me.
(she was always there)
I really tried to love you.
(you just didn't care)
So here I am,
staring at the pieces of my former self.
(how do they fit together?)
Slowly they move,
(if I keep looking, I will see)
towards each other.
(and then I will understand me)
My wants, My needs, My happiness.
(and that's when I will truly be able to be)
ME
Never
Enough
Why me?
And why not you?
Or her?
Why is it me who is meant to suffer?
Not
good enough
Not thin enough
I ate too much
Now it's time
for my crutch
Pull
my hair back
I don't even see
The monster I am letting
take over me
Lift
the seat
Push my fingers down
It's so easy now
I barely make a sound
I'm
almost done
Soon I'll be free
The monster will loosen
it's grip on me
Flush
the toilet
Wipe the rim
Is all this just to be pretty
for him?
You
did a good job
I am proud of you now
I promise tomorrow
you won't look like a cow
Rinse
my mouth
Splash my face
No one will know
I have left no trace
To
my dismay
I look in the mirror and see
The monster staring
back at me
It's taken so long
Now I finally see
The monster killing me
Is me
Not
pretty enough
Not perfect enough
I ate too much
And I needed a crutch
Celebrate
Celebrate
every
woman
a
beautiful smile
her
eyes
the
secret to her soul
Celebrate
every
woman
her
soft caress
sweet
promises
make
her happiness your goal
Celebrate
every
woman
her
strength is not surpassed
Strong,
loud
Empowered,
proud
Women
Celebrate
every one you know!
Recovery
I
see the road
It seems so far away
It promises to take me to my destination
Where is that?
It’s
too far, and I will never make it
It’s too hard, why should I try?
If I keep this up
I will surely die.
They
say to just take that leap
Blind Faith it is called
Are they crazy?
Don’t they know my car has stalled?
I
guess I could open the door and get out of the car
I could start the walk
Even though it seems so far
Deep
breaths
I will myself to make
The choice to live
Without being fake
So I
walked the walk
I was almost there
I talked the talk
I said a prayer
I stumbled and fell
And sat and stared
Will there ever be anyone who cared?
I
picked myself up
And started again
It’s me who cares
I am my best friend
I am
choosing to keep walking the road
I am choosing to carry the load
It gets heavy at times
Overwhelming and scary
What ever happened to the ‘fix-it’ fairy?
It’s
me
Only I can ‘fix’ my life
I want that now
I am learning how
That
is my destination.
Same
As Me
They
awoke that day
Same
as me
To
live their busy lives
All
the while, believing they were free
The
terror in their hearts
I
can't begin to imagine
when
those men stood and told them of their fate
by
then they must have know it was too late
Too
late to say "Goodbye" or I love you" or " you mean so much
to me"
Too
late to say "I'm sorry" "I was wrong" "Please forgive
me"
and
"Boy am I thankful to be free"
Too
late to realize their wildest of dreams,
Too
late for it all, it sadly seems
They
awoke that day
Same
as me
To
live their busy lives
Never
knowing, they were no longer free
index
Poet
of the Month- 2001
Choosing
the Poet of the Month, from all of our talented contributors was a difficult
task indeed. I chose the Poet of the Month from April 2001, our own Ellen.
She has been a huge contributor to the Poetry Wall and here is a showcase of
some of her earlier work. Thank you Ellen!
Peace and Love,
Leslie Freeman
Poetry Wall Director
Payson
Road is embracing Spring and the spirit of change. The theme for the month
is recovery. And keeping with that theme, the Poetry Wall is shining the
spotlight on Ellen. She is a member of the Payson Road Online Group
who is achieving recovery. She's a mother. And a recovering bulimic. Her
dedication to her family and compassion and strength are all evident in her
provoking and thoughtful poems. Enjoy!
Poems by Ellen
Dreams
Revisited
As a
little girl I dreamed,
I’d have horses of my own
To ride through the woods
When I grew up.
As a
little girl I dreamed,
I’d fix up the haunted house,
That was nestled in the woods
By the pond where we skated
When I grew up.
As
a little girl I dreamed,
I’d live in that house
With children of my own,
And we’d ride through secret paths
Exploring the unknown
When I grew up.
As a
little girl no more,
My dreams are not same.
The house has been knocked down.
The trees have been cut down.
There’s apartments on the land
Woods are no longer there,
Where I grew up.
As a
little girl no more,
I ride my bike and dream
Down a road through different woods.
For a moment it would seem
I am atop my horse
And my dream has come to pass
I’m in a different time
I am not grown up.
As a
little girl no more,
Knowing dreams don’t all come true,
Doesn’t keep me from still dreaming
Of the things I want to do.
And at times I will revisit
Those dreams of long ago
Forgetting for a moment
I am grown up.
I Talk To Dead
People
I
talk to dead people.
Sometimes out loud,
Sometimes in my mind.
I know they can hear,
most times
I know their response
To what I say.
Mainly
it’s my grandmom
But also my grandpop
And great-grandmom
And Aunts Susie and Jewel
And Mrs. Rubert
And Anne.
People
with whom I have connected
And the bond has not been severed
By their earthly departure.
I miss their comforting hugs
And seeing the compassion
Or joy or understanding
In their eyes.
But
memories endure
And conversation continues
Despite their passing
From this world.
I
talk to dead people.
Is Anybody Out There?
Is
anybody out there?
Can anybody hear?
I have secrets that need telling
Let me whisper in your ear.
My
thoughts are all a jumble
Can’t begin to sort them through
Each time I try, I stumble
Oh, what am I to do?
If
someone would just listen,
Help me sift through all the stuff.
Face my life’s facts objectively
All by myself it’s rough.
What
I should do seems clear
One moment- then it’s not.
The guilt and the emotions
Have twisted me in knots.
I
hesitate to seek advise
Spill secrets I’ve not shared.
But the hurt and pain’s unyielding
I’m all alone and scared.
Is
anybody out there?
Can anybody hear?
I have secrets that need telling
Let me whisper in your ear.
Running Through a
Cloud
I’m
running through a cloud
Not big and puffy white,
It’s kitten gray and soft
Gently misting up my sight.
It
covers like a whisper,
On cat’s paws it did arrive
Yet the haze enfolds so tightly
It’s a struggle to survive.
The
fog seems never ending
Each time I turn it’s there.
But faith and hope sustain me
My protection from despair.
Afraid To Be Me
I am
mired in complacency,
Quicksand pulls me into lassitude.
I do what is necessary
But nothing more.
I
plan sometimes
Think of accomplishments
To achieve
But inertia cuts these to the quick.
I
move along a set path
Never taking a wrong turn
But no
WAIT
That’s wrong.
Inaction
is as bad as
Making mistakes.
It’s the ultimate mistake.
My Addiction
I seek solace in a box of cereal.
I look for comfort in the package of cookies.
I pursue peace in the pretzel bag.
Food anesthetizes me.
Numbs
feelings.
Takes over my mind.
Thoughts focus only on cramming
MORE
Into my mouth.
Worries
fade
My only goal is to eat
But when my fix is done
Disgust and self-loathing
Join inadequacy and low self-esteem.
Fear
Fear coils like
a snake
in my gut
When it’s tightly curled
I can ignore its presence,
But when it unravels
And stretches itself
The pressure causes discomfort, awareness.
The more I acknowledge it
The more power it has
To take over my thoughts
Control my feelings
Leave me helpless and alone
And terrified
Of what may be.
I Am Too Soft For
This World
I am
too soft for this world.
I cry easily when
Angry or frustrated.
I cry too at stories
Of love and caring
Perhaps because I
I so seldom experience it
Firsthand.
I
long for genuine family
And loving relationships
Inclusion in a large
Caring, sharing circle.
I too often feel isolated and
Disconnected.
A
tougher skin
An acceptance of the shallow
“Me first” world in which
We live would render me
More content - I think…
But it’s not how I am.
Cursed
with a soft heart
A longing for family
And extended family
I see what’s lacking
And mourn the loss
Of love I’ve rarely had.
Outsider
I live on the
fringes of life
My deepest, most powerful
Feelings
Are evoked through stories.
I am too frightened to
Trust others enough
To truly connect.
My only honest relationships
Are with my children,
Perhaps because when they were babies
I shared my innermost
Self with them.
And a precedent was set
Never have I been as open and sharing
With others.
There is an impenetrable shield
Surrounding my person
Only my innocent children
Can clear this hurdle
And touch my soul.
index
Poem
of the Month-2001
Of all the Poems of
the Month, my selection for Best of 2001 was Jenna Girompini's poem of March 2001. This poem still
moves me to see the fragility of our recoveries, as well as how worth fighting
for, they truly are. Thank you Jenna.
Peace
and Love, Leslie Freeman
Poetry
Wall Director
Our poet of the Month for March
is Jenna
Girompini. Jenna has submitted several poems to the Wall in fact she was
the first to send poetry in the early days of the site. It was Jenna's
beautiful poetry that inspired the creation of this Wall. She has won
several honors for her poems including the prestigious Poet of the Year Award.
Jenna inspires me with her passion and incredible talent. She has a true
gift. One that continues to help her in her own recovery and encourage
others toward their recovery. I know that you will all enjoy this
wonderful collection by Jenna Girompini.
Came in Full
by Jenna Girompini
I came in full, singing heart's words
Wiped my mouth and dried my eyes.
pumped the blood out of my heart
and left it on the table for you to see.
Had your head on my wall.
mounted amongst the rest of
my trophies and prizes.
Lucid and Pretty, I obsessed over it.
Curly Pressed Tendrils shaken to waves,
soft dark eyes and lips that
pulsed crimson when mad.
Eyes shrunken to Almond slivers glared
at spoken words.
I fought hard to keep the soft, sweet phrases coming
but they turned Razor Sharp.
Cutting too deep. You cut yourself
Loose and fell from the wall.
But this was good for me
because each nail pounded into the wall
Cracked me even more
You lost your place and was lost all together
a friendship was lost
so someone else was mounted on my wall
but this time because of a friendship that revolved around Happiness.
A friendship that didn't start because of fear.
But the truth is that I miss the soft dark eyes
the lips that pulsed crimson when mad
and most of all
the Almond eyes.
index
Poetry-Best
Of...
Pathetic
by Jodi Beuder
I
wish I knew how to do pottery
I
wish I knew lots more
I
wish I could win the lottery
I
wish I weren't so poor
I
wish I were much thinner
I
wish pizza was fat free
I
wish I could skip dinner
I
wish Gwyneth looked like me
I
make so many wishes and
They
never do come true
I
wish that god would give a hand
To
my cause, my dreams, oh poo
I
am my own god, I have learned
I
am the one who'll decide
I'll
buy a kiln; this fat, I've earned
I'll
just enjoy the ride
Road
by Sarah Mason
Road free and wide
Take me to that place where I can sing
Where the mountains kiss the sky
Freedom lights my way
Even
if her highness frowns
Darkness does not settle in
For we soak in the blood of our fields
And live each day to create
This
road asks nothing but to plough it fair
It presents far more than it receives
We taste the wines of many grapes
Seasoned by the gentle sun
Blessed
with promise we travel on
Carry a page from scriptures tale
We live together ablaze in color
Liberty rock our sleep
It's
Just a Sandwich
by Gretchen Wehr
Have
you ever wondered what it's like to eat a meal knowing that
you have to get rid of it afterward? Take
a moment and look hard at
the sandwich in your hand. To
you it is a source of nourishment, or
maybe even pleasure; it's just a sandwich. Now
look at this same
sandwich through the eyes of a bulimic...
It will appear normal at first,
and then your stomach will begin to churn and your mind will race.
Doubts fill you until you are left shaking and suddenly tears fill your
eyes.
You shouldn't eat that sandwich, you're fat enough already,
no wonder no one thinks you're
beautiful, all you do is eat.
Then, as you are drawn into this pit of self consciousness
you consume the sandwich,
the bag of pretzels sitting next to it,
and the package of cookies lying on a nearby counter.
As you stare at the aftermath of what you have just done
you feel yourself becoming sick.
The crumbs and empty packages are a
nasty reminder of it all.
You are convinced that you can feel yourself getting heavier by the
minute,
and you know that you have to stop this feeling.
In a daze, you run to the bathroom,
pulling your hair back as you go.
It's a routine,
you barely notice what's going on as you turn the water on
to drown out the sound of what's going to happen next.
You lift the lid to the toilet
and stick your fingers down your throat.
Your eyes water and you continue,
until you're positive that you've thrown up everything that you just ate.
You rest your forehead on the rim of the toilet seat
and close your eyes.
Your throat aches,
you can't stop crying,
and you're exhausted.
You scream at yourself for feeling terrible
and you pull yourself up off of the floor.
After brushing your teeth and splashing some water on your face
you begin to feel better.
After all, you didn't gain anything...
So - is it really just a sandwich?
Untitled
By Anita Hubscher
What's wrong with me
I really don't know
I'm tired of living
This one woman show
I hold back my thoughts
No one knows the "true Me"
Even I get confused
With the person I see
I don't have an issue
With my looks or my weight
Just everything else
About me I hate
I eat not from hunger
Nor drink for the taste
I ove | 
