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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 .

Monday, July 25, 2011

Poem for Monday: Lament for the Children of the Fjords


Photo Reuters -- Mourners in Oslo



Lament for the Children of the Fjords.

Swaddled we woke to morning larks
Blissful in the cocoon of the blanket
Taking our nourishment from the breast.

With our butterfly vulnerabilities
We walked to school
At our backs
Bread and lullabyes.

The child needs to return many times
Before she pushes off
Against the family’s shore
Trying her long arms.
Her strong legs.

She needs to see them
Waving, assuring her
She is safe
Even far away.

Emboldened, raised up
Half-grown, we swam to the island.
We made camp.
We built fires.

From space
You can see the moment
Of history’s diversion,
A new scar on Earth’s soul.


No one comes into the world
Asking to be devastated


But where we were
A garden of corpses
Rivers of blood
A luminous sea of flowers.






copyright Jenne' R. andrews 2011

4 comments:

Reflections said...

A powerful tribute... so many young promising lives left this world in fear, in bravery, leaving a legacy beyond words.

erin said...

no words, jen. i have no words. only from deep parts within me there is a visceral rejection.

xo
erin

jen revved said...

Thanks to each of you-- no one has any words, really...not even all of us. xxxj

Eeleen Lee said...

A very moving tribute. Not easy to find words or expressions for an event of such tragic magnitude.