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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 .

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Poem for One Shot Wednesday, Magpie Tales

Please join us in the wonderful memes at One Stop Poetry and Tess Kincaid's Magpie Tales.

The following is posted for One Shot and Magpie Tales-- the photo prompt for the latter follows.  Scroll down to comment-- thanks!













Song for the Pyres of Spring


We sing to comfort ourselves.  We hope that we are overheard 
and invited into the parlor where a fire burns in kaleidoscopic ardor 
and someone asks us why it took so long.  That is what I have hoped 

For myself.  That I am someone you were looking for, for all the years.
This dream kindles like a match in a beautiful burst of flame.  We walk forth
Into the greening spring, adorned with youth, impelled by vigor, aloft 

By an act of will.  We are unstoppable and we dance this.
But the last tango is waiting, to scythe down the field we have made 
together: our rustling tassels.  One by one then we are chaff for the pyres. 

We throw off light. We are one with copper and silver.  
I am your necklace of pearls and then I am erased, by the tide 
That roils in, cleansing the beach of my generation. All that is left 

Of me is a strand covered with barnacles, round ears listening 
to the surf, a regenerate starfish wrinkling in the light.










x
 copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011

11 comments:

Steve Isaak said...

Love this - vivid, as your work often is, engaging on multiple, effective levels. 'Gain, excellent!

moondustwriter said...

wow what a contrast - dreams, youth, life, burdens...
I appreciate the way you resolve this with the cleansing of the beach ( my home) where aging takes on new meaning

thanks Jenne

Brian Miller said...

dam jen, this is top notch stuff...startling vivid imagery and a daring romp on a spooked horse word play...

the first line that caught me was...I come
for redemption like a baptism by the past's
Impatient angel...tight

great flow image to image...

hedgewitch said...

It's so hard for me to comment on your poems, jenne--not because of any faults, but because so often they just leave me speechless. This is to me a poem rich in stages, moving through refinements and variations of mood, and each peels off another layer, till pain and loss seem washed clean. The language is so good. From the first line--but in particular beginning with "..That we are overheard..." through the following stanza. I don't know how that yearning, thought, need, hope could be better expressed. Excuse my overtalking it. Great piece.

Fireblossom said...

Show off.

;-)

John (@bookdreamer) said...

Good example of how a poem has to be read loud to enjoy it's treasures

Brendan said...

Whatever your realities, you songs are always eagles --wild, soaring and brilliant. - Brendan

Reflections said...

Stunning piece, so filled with vivid imagery, masterfully shared within words of the observer in a desolate yet beautiful world, all too often overlooked by progress.

siubhan said...

rich in imagery, this has a flow and a depth and a beauty that do justice to its title. Brava.

Lucy Westenra said...

I agree with Hedgewitch. This just leaves me speechless. Dare a lesser writer ask whether someone who has been "a practitioner of the craft of petry for four decades" is the same thing as a poet?

Lena said...

WOW!