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, September 9, 2012

New Poem: Uncommon House, Posting for DVerse Poetics and Beyond....

Thank you, DVerse Poets Pub Poetics, for the prompt of autumn. 

Uncommon House

Who now has no house will not build one.
Who now is alone will remain alone,
will read into the night, write long letters,
and, restless, wander streets
where leaves are blowing.

Autumn Day, Book of Images, Rilke

Indeed, how uncommonly hard each day
to see the autumn spend its windfall,
all this gilded flaring up and dying back,
and the geese calling over the charred stalks.

For we have burnt the fields, tramping
in deadfall, violated
the old cottonwood for her chalky boughs

to stack at the hearth.
Still the great poplars wave to the heavens,
while they yet boast a million silver hands,
evangelists beneath a tent of stars
waving their long arms of belief.

How is it that we are so quick
to annul the season when at daybreak,
we see the small red flowers sheathed in frost,
that the earth turns earlier away from the sun
and languid evening touches our hair?

As the clouds bear down on us, we tunnel a road
through the ripe fruit of our lives,
goodly worms on their mortal journey,

a matin on our lips, noting how lovely
every spent thing is, in the dreaming grass,
how like a faceted garnet slipped from its setting,
a small heart’s fading ember.


copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2012


Beachanny said...

How gorgeous your images! And your metaphors..everything takes shapes, colors, fires brilliance, and as quickly seems on the brink of fading or disappearing into a foggy unseen sky beyond the horizon. Wonderful.

Maureen said...

Every stanza marked by its lyricism and beautiful imagery. I especially fell for "a faceted garnet slipped from its setting/ a small heart's fading ember": so very lovely!

Brian Miller said...

realy lovely images jen....my fav stanza...As the clouds bear down on us, we tunnel a road
through the ripe fruit of our lives,
goodly worms on their mortal journey

Mary said...

"Uncommon House" is just beautiful. To me, it has the ring of a classic poem. So much thought. To me it means, if you are alone / lonely in autumn, you will continue to be..through winter. Lovely wordings!

kkkkaty said...

I enjoyed reading this..garnet slipped...nice ;)