Meet Our June 2007
Featured Poet

~ Gilda Kreuter ~

gilda_kreuter

Gilda Kreuter was born in Brooklyn, New York where she majored in journalism at Brooklyn College. The Kreuters live in Brick, New Jersey in the summer, and Delray Beach, Florida in the winter.

Her poems have been published in the Paterson Literary Review, Poetica, Penumbra, The Edison Literary Review, The Atlantic Highlands Herald, Sensations Magazine, and many anthologies. She teaches a poetry/poetry workshops at the Ocean County Community College, at the Delray Beach Public Library in April for National Poetry Month at local Assisted Living Facilities, and encourages all writers ..."to write and be creative beyond the pale." She is a member of the Poets of the Palm Beaches, The New Jersey Poetry Society, The Florida State Poetry Association, The National Association of Poetry Therapy, as well as the National League of American Pen Women. Gilda won first prize in the 2000, 2001, and 2004 Poets of the Palm Beaches Chapbook Contests.

Kreuter is currently working on a new book to be published some time in 2007.

"I write poetry because I love words and also I can say my feelings in a short poem rather than a lengthy story. I love writing sensuous poetry and also poems of some social significance, one poem that I wrote has a lot of meaning to me is Home."

Home

Home is a paper cardboard box
raincoated in yellow plastic,
green shower curtain door,
clothes folded in black bags,
photos taped to soft walls;
pictures of a four year old kid,
pictures of when I used to be somebody.

I get food at the soup kitchen
at St. Francis Church, take some extra milk
to share with stray cats.
I bring it home, lay my red scarf
across two chairs, a fancy tablecloth,
and eat in my own kitchen.

A garden grows in back of my home,
seeds planted by children,
flowers bloom.
Juan comes by, hands me a rose,
"Senora, para usted."
"Gracias," I smile, place the rose
in a glass jar.

Meds dry my mouth,
don't let me think straight.
If voices bother me, I stuff
cotton in my ears, or Natie's father,
a doctor, gives me a pill or two.
Passersby nod, "There but for the Grace of God ...."
they take their meds.

Some days I skip the soup kitchen,
just sit in church,
look at Mary's pretty face,
tell her I know
what it is to lose a child.

Natie, Alice and John bring chairs
to my home; we sing, tell stories;
I want to have company
like when I used to be somebody.

When winter comes - don't know,
maybe the shelter - but now
home is a paper cardboard box.

Meet Our June 2007 Featured Poet

~ Gilda Kreuter ~

Meet Our June 2007
Featured Poet