WELCOME! BENVENUTI!

Jenne' Andrews is an American poet. She has three published chapbooks including the recent Blackbirds Dance in the Empire of Love, Finishing Line Press 2013.

A full-length collection, Reunion, Lynx House Press, was published in 1983; after a long hiatus to raise Golden Retrievers in Colorado, recent work has appeared in The Passionate Transitory, Belletrist Coterie, The Adirondack Review and Vox Populi, a journal of culture, politics and poetry published and edited by the august Michael Simms.

A bilingual collection of "Italiana," Bocca, Voce, Delirio, with translations by Lorenzo Luciani, will be released by Finishing Line at the end of 2016 and her latest collection, And Now, the Road, a finalist for the Autumn House prize in 2014, will be released by Salmon Poetry Ltd, Ireland, a highly regarded international house, Jessie Lendennie, Publisher, circa 2017.

Andrews holds the MFA in Creative Writing/Poetry from Colorado State University, is a literary fellow of the National Endowment for the Arts, and was full-time Poet in Residence for the St. Paul Schools from '74-78. She lived in St. Paul from 1971-78 during the first wave of the Twin Cities literary renaissance, and spent the summer of 1973 in Reggio Calabria, Italy.

The poet lives in northern Colorado's Poudre River Valley with her husband, fiction writer Jack Brooks; the couple has recently imported two British Golden Retrievers and expects a litter in June-- see the Ardorgold website for details. Contact: jenneandrews2010@gmail.com .

Thursday, January 27, 2011

New Poem for Thursday-- Metaphor Challenge

Please scroll down to read the very recent "The Bird of Dust"-- well-liked by One Stop Poets et al...


The Fleur de Lis of Melbourne

Of asphodel, that greeny flower,
                   I come, my sweet,
                                      to sing to you!
My heart rouses
                   thinking to bring you news
                                      of something
that concerns you
                   and concerns many men.

Asphodel, Thou Greeny Flower -- Wm Carlos Williams

Send wide-mouthed red roses by the dozen
To she who mapped a woman's body
A Madame Curie of Melbourne
With radioactive news:

In a laboratory down under
In the deeps of night itself
Paring away like a sculptor
From a female cadaver
She found an orchid of flesh
Entire pulpy petals that fill with blood
Crowned by and attached to
Our indefatigable 
Pearl of heaven….

Quel chance et quel tresor:
There is far more to us
Than meets the naked eye!
An entire crown
Where we thought there was only a sapphire!

Was this golden find relayed by pony express,
Courier mermaid across seven seas
Or Reuters?
It doesn't matter
The salt of surmise
Rises to our tongues.

ii

Will you now die
For the fleur de lis
Of Melbourne
And her petite morte,  my Galahad
Even let your pale stallion fall?
She has burned at the stake
For your pleasure,
Will you help her
Claim Rome and the hinterlands
And cut out Freud's tongue?

Slay the dragons of her wasted ardor
Please.
Lie with her,
Face to face,
Hands, tongue: trace, taste,
Locate and commit to memory
Like all of Paradise Lost

The exquisite geography
of the Fleur di Lis of Melbourne.

iii

The truth is out, her hair unbound
The harp of her hips
Played by the soft fingers of the moonlight

Tell all then
Of the kingdom
Beneath the mushroom,
This subterfuge of the flesh
How the asphodel, o briny flower.
Is your fleur de lis,
My love.  When you
Linger at my doorway
When you nuzzle me
With your soft full lower lip
I open and enfold
Open and enfold.



 copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011
All Rights Deserved




1 comment:

jen revved said...

The scintillatingly good poets Phebe Hanson and Mary Ellen Shaw gave this poem Facebook likes...xj