Saturday, October 27, 2012

A Poem by Andrew Kreider

and all the trees are dying
sheered off at the roots
arms slung wide as if
running from a gunman
and down south a whole town is
hiding in attics from their
pride and furniture determined
that the past will not repeat itself
and I keep score as I scrub the floor
fighting battles over ground
flooded and drained a hundred times
watching my arms rise and fall
and the back of my mind is
flashing blue and white, pleading
shut up shut up shut up sometimes
a grenade is just ripe fruit ready to share
Born and raised in London, England, Andrew Kreider has lived for over twenty years in northern Indiana.
He has published two chapbooks, and has an active poetry blog under the title Penguin Poems.


  1. Quite excellent, Andrew!

    1. Thanks, Misk! It's great to find myself among friends on this wonderful site!

  2. Andrew, what a perfect piece of poetry! Really love that first stanza, what an image :-)

  3. Fantastic, Andrew. I love your work, and this piece is amazing.
    I'm particularly drawn to:
    "and I keep score as I scrub the floor
    fighting battles over ground"