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 .

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Poem for One Shot Wednesday







Photo from Guardian online-- Russian Scientist working with Beluga....

Please check back on Thursdays, as I am planning to start a writing meme with a link widget! xxj




Free Will
  
Let me sleep no more beside the harp.
Look at my hand, still a boy's hand.
Do you think it could not span
the octaves of a lover's body

Rilke-- new poems


Let me sleep no more as a girl.
Break me with your chisel
From the white stone of my childhood.

Look at my body.  It is the body
Of a lover, a woman
A village mourner
An equestrienne.

Come near this mouth
Not as a patriarch
But my lover.
If I say come unto me
What do you think I mean?

I am not your  nightingale
Your street-savvy waif.
If you don’t believe me
Watch me ride into the wind
Straddling my horse.

Watch me dissolve your volition
as if you were the Steinway's bass clef 
I forge into thunder
with one white hand.


cc


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011

14 comments:

Brian Miller said...

jenne,

it warmed my heart to see your comment. you are an incredibly talented poet...and i am sorry we got cross wise as well. my best to you.

b

poemblaze said...

Excellent poem. Too many good lines to note (pun intended). I love the reveal at the end of working through emotion/anger/relationship via music!

Timoteo said...

...If I say come unto me/What do you think I mean...
Jenne--at this point, I think I'm catching on to what you mean!

(A Russian scientist at work? I missed my calling!)

Heaven said...

Strong images... love these lines:

If I say come unto me
What do you think I mean?

Joseph Hesch said...

Wow, cut right to the chase, Jenne. I love the confident tone of this piece. There's a confidence in the language, as well. Well done!

Reflections said...

Sensational writing... as well as sensual. These words combined with the image just blow me away.

Teresa said...

Wonderful poem. I love the imagery.

moondustwriter said...

the picture is a perfect complement to this complicated sonata where the rider and musician converge

delightful Jenne

Ruth said...

Wow.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Just a beautiful and passionate write, Jenne.

Mama Zen said...

I love the strength in this. Beautiful write.

knightsheart said...

Thank you for sharing this poetic ride...

jen revved said...

Thanks to all who posted such encouraging words! xxxj

Leo said...

beautiful, beautiful write up, Jenne..

My One Shot ~ A Poetic World