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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

Special Christmas Poem
from a US Marine Stationed Overseas


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 couldnít 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 donít cry,
This life is my choice

I fight for freedom,
I donít ask for more,
My life is my God,
My country, my corps."

The soldier rolled over
And drifted to sleep,

I couldnít control it,
I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still
And we both shivered
From the cold nightís chill.

I didnít 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,
Itís Christmas day, all is secure."

One look at my watch,
And I knew he was right.





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






Best of Leslie's Poetry-2001 



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. 
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. 




(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, 
Isn't that all it was really about? 
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)




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


every woman
a beautiful smile 
her eyes
the secret to her soul

every woman 
her soft caress
sweet promises
make her happiness your goal

every woman
her strength is not surpassed
Strong, loud
Empowered, proud

Celebrate every one you know!


I see the road
It seems so far away
It promises to take me to my destination 
Where is that?

Itís too far, and I will never make it
Itís 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?
Donít 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
Itís 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 Ďfix-ití fairy? 

Itís me
Only I can Ďfixí 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"
"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






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,
Iíd have horses of my own
To ride through the woods
When I grew up. 

As a little girl I dreamed,
Iíd 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,
Iíd live in that house
With children of my own,
And weíd 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.
Thereís 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
Iím in a different time
I am not grown up. 

As a little girl no more,
Knowing dreams donít all come true,
Doesnít 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 itís 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
Canít 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 lifeís facts objectively
All by myself itís rough. 

What I should do seems clear
One moment- then itís not.
The guilt and the emotions
Have twisted me in knots. 

I hesitate to seek advise
Spill secrets Iíve not shared.
But the hurt and painís unyielding
Iím 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

Iím running through a cloud
Not big and puffy white,
Itís kitten gray and soft
Gently misting up my sight. 

It covers like a whisper,
On catís paws it did arrive
Yet the haze enfolds so tightly
Itís a struggle to survive.

The fog seems never ending
Each time I turn itís 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
Thatís wrong. 

Inaction is as bad as
Making mistakes.
Itís 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
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 coils like a snake
in my gut
When itís 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

I long for genuine family
And loving relationships
Inclusion in a large
Caring, sharing circle.
I too often feel isolated and

A tougher skin
An acceptance of the shallow
ďMe firstĒ world in which
We live would render me
More content  - I thinkÖ
But itís not how I am. 

Cursed with a soft heart
A longing for family
And extended family
I see whatís lacking
And mourn the loss
Of love Iíve rarely had. 


I live on the fringes of life
My deepest, most powerful
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. 



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.



Poetry-Best Of...

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



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? 

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 over indulge 
To fill up the space

If I look past the fear
And live my soul's dream
Maybe then I will find
A high self-esteem

Jeffrey Kahler

To deny that which lives
in the dim flickering light of our past,
denies a part of ourselves,
and what we have become
since that light guided us 
more than it does now.

To go down to the damp cellar
where all the boxes of our past demons are kept
and open box after box after box
until we find the boxes are empty
and always have been
shows us that we have been carrying these demons
around within ourselves all this time. 

To know that these demons are there
just behind our own eyes every day
looking out trying to gain control once again 
makes us stronger in our resolve
to not allow that to happen. 

To look into the mirror every day
and see the person
demons and all
the disappointment and hell 
caused by this person to others
the elation and heaven 
created by this person in others
and still know that this is a good person
a whole person, a caring person
a person that we honestly and truly love
is a victory every day. 

And in having that victory
in knowing that about ourselves
that we are who we are
part demon, part god 
far from perfect
just humans being human beings
is what makes every day worth living
and every face worth facing
with no fear for anyone. 

America the Invincible
by Ellen

This morning began like any other
Jarred awake by the alarm
I slowly emerged from the comfort of sleep
And began my daily routine.

A few hours after my wake-up call
I arrived at work
And began tackling one
Of the piles on my desk.

Then suddenly-
It became a morning like no other.
I hoped I'd returned to a nightmarish sleep.
For only from that perspective,
Would my mind be able to deal with this travesty,
This unspeakable terror.
This slaughter of innocents and innocence.

The home of the free and the brave
And the invincible,
Under attack from an evil force
Bond and determined to shatter lives and dreams.
A nightmare,
It can't be real-But it is!

Somehow, I emerge
Physically unscathed
But forever changed inside,
Determined that evil will not be the victor.
Our country will stand united against this
Despoiler of dreams and hopes.
For this act did not kill the American spirit.
Rather it provided fuel to make it
Glow even stronger on this dark day.
America-the home of the free and the brave
And the invincible!

by Shelly Stillwell

I don't know what to do,
My mind is tearing me in two.
A part of me wants to cry for help,
While the other says it's working.
This up and down I cannot take,
It's been 2 years I thought I was safe.
I stopped before because I knew
When I looked in the mirror
That I was doomed.
And now here I am in the same place,
Consumed by food I will not partake.
I can't stop myself as the pounds come off,
But I still look so fat that I just won't stop.
The mirror lies and the scales a demon.
How do I escape from this hell I am feeling?

Little Girl Lost

by Ellen

Little girl lost
Is now little girl found,
But it took many years
For her to come round.

She forgot who she was
Cause she tried so to please,
The role became her
Almost ceased to be.

But life with it's trials
Cracked the facade,
And the lost, frightened child
Began to emerge.

She was timid and sobbing
But with each passing day,
She grew stronger and braver
She fought for her say.

So now little girl lost
Is little girl grown,
She's peaceful and happy
For she's found her way home


Look At Me
by Allison Ryan

You are not the pretty one

You are not the skinny one

You are not exactly what they want to see


You may not be the pretty one

You may not be the skinny one

But if I could teach you whatís been taught to me


But baby, baby if you could look from the outside

Youíd see that youíve got nothing, nothing to hide

What they want isnít what they always need

So baby, baby just listen to me


I am not the pretty one

I am not the skinny one

I am not exactly what they want to see


Look at me, my hairs not blonde

Look at me the curtainís drawn

You canít see whatís deep inside of me


But baby, baby if I could teach you to hear

I show you what they want is not always clear

I want you to let them pass by your door

And try, try to live as you did before


Look at you, your heads a mess

Look at you the reasons pressed

When I see you now, what I see is me


But I am not the feeble one

Iíll not be the weaker one

I will be exactly what I need to be


Cause baby if you could have looked inside me

Youíd learn that it wasnít them that kept you from free

But since you could not distance you from the pain

Now it just seems that your life has been in vain


Look at you, your arms are crossed

Look at you, a lamb thatís lost

You didnít live to see what you could have been


So this is for the ones whoíll come

Those that theyíll call meek and dumb

I have been exactly what your scared to be


And while I know youíll wonder how

Look at me, Iím happy now

Iím finally exactly what I want to be


Not what they need, but what I need to be

Not what they want, but what I want to be 



Website designed and administered by Sarah Mason, .  Website Logo and  Graphics Designed by Tahara Hasan. Payson Road was created Copyright © June 2, 2000.  All rights reserved. Copyright © 2000-5 [Payson Road].  All rights reserved. Revised: January 09, 2006 . 


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