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, March 17, 2011

Jen's Violet Poem, Revised

Please scroll down to see original Magpie/One Shot version... Prayers for Japan.  


An Uncommon Thing Appears in the Garden

“The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Is my destroyer…”

Dylan Thomas


The bravery of the green leaf
Forcing its way out of winter—

To what end… or because it must
Or bears a coded imperative

In the genes, as we do—in the keeping on
Of all that “returns” in spring--

The searing sun takes itself
Over the hill’s edge

And shadows cradle the tendril.
When no one is looking

The bud is born
And then the silk-soft, rich

Purple tongues of the petals
Laving the light of day--

Voila, violet
And an unrepentant replication then

Violet conjoined, sharing roots
In close family resemblance

With others like it
But not entirely.

The feminine courage of the violet
To open to morning

Summon the smaller bees
To drag their feet

Through her pollen.
To then surrender to our abrupt claims

Upon her, breathing color to the eye
Fading, singing in lavender 

For as long as she can from the vase
Before she lowers her flag.

The next time violets appear
In the blink of an eye

At the doorstep
I will leave them

To do their work—
In the mind & in the world:

Semaphores of beauty
Metaphors for tenderness.


3 comments:

Cheryl Snell said...

Very nice. Your language lives! "because it can" is the only bump in the poem for this reader.

Jingle said...

great poem.

~T~ said...

I like "Voila, violet," and the semaphores and metaphors. Nice!