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 .

Sunday, March 11, 2012

New Poem, Posted for Magpie Tales and Beyond...

To participate in the Magpie Tales Sunday photo prompt hosted by the one and only Tess Kincaid, click here...   

Die Morganwald

Morning breaks in the wood
her violinist in the clearing
her mocking bird on the bough.

And will it be an adagio of long shadows
verging and opalescent,
wings graying to afternoon?

Will a pale hand reach down
to rewind that One who plays a caprice
to the point of exhaustion?

We come into morning with a basket
full of the ripe pears of hopefulness
proffering them to the Other;

We see the saluting petals of the trillium,
the coquette pansies opening in damp grasses.

Does faith take wing then, or a sotto voce prayer
in a foreign tongue
crest at the back of the throat?

I would see this Vivaldi of the hours,
this rapturous chimera I imagine,
hold him in my sight
until measure for measure
my own breath fades away.  


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012  


Tess Kincaid said...

Ripe pears and Vivaldi...yes...

Helen said...

Love, love the musical interpretation .. I can see the violin.

Manicddaily said...

Jenne, this has such a beautiful close. To keep measure for measure with Vivaldi would be a pretty great way to spend last breaths.

The morning's basketful of pears also very memorable, and pacing as always is so sure.

I'm sorry I've not visited lately. My life gets kind of wacky at times with a great deal of job work. K.

Maureen said...

Lovely, Jenne. I like the interweaving of the musical imagery, which you support with such images as "adagio of long shadows", "saluting petals", "foreign tongue", "sotto voce prayer", even breath. You show us how the day breaks open into possibility.

Sue said...

Well done. I really enjoyed your interesting images.


hyperCRYPTICal said...

Well done! Wonderful images evoked.

Anna :o]

Anonymous said...

kind of like a Schubert lied

depth of field