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 .

Sunday, January 6, 2013

New Poem: Elegy for a White Rose, for The Mag Meme and Beyond...

Please check out my recently published work at the new, gorgeous 'zine The Passionate Transitory.  My offering for this Sunday's The Mag follows.


Image by Daniel Murtagh


Elegy for a White Rose

You, wanton and hungry at the window.
Thou still unravish'd bride of—beauty,
tempered by its frame.

You, silk-delicate, white rose of summer,
your peach skin, dark hair;
the depthless coves of your eyes.

How briefly illuminated
to the street, to the one glancing up
closing his red umbrella,
suppressing cloudy rising memory, 
hurrying on.

You, spent breathlessness
of ardor, lassitude of regret
and yearning prolonged--

Woman, Muse, the One
we ache to touch and hold,
to burn ourselves into, in the way moth
marries white flame,

gone on, with the gauzy dream
every summer is:
kindled, then spent youth is,
in the roseate heartbreak of the dawn.


n.b.: the line in italics is that of Keats.  

x
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2013

6 comments:

Helen said...

Your poem is lovely ... my favorite words 'gone on, with the gauzy dream
every summer is' ~~ so true.

Tess Kincaid said...

Beautiful, Jen...especially love the touch of the red umbrella...

Carrie Burtt said...

You have captured desire eloquently here....beautiful! :-)

Mystic_Mom said...

Brava my dear, brava.

Catfish Tales said...

Why am I thinking Pygmalion here? Your imagery is captivating of that gentle walk and brief voyeurism not unknown to all.

Pat Zarpentine said...

I love the imagery... especially this line:
the One we ache to touch and hold,
to burn ourselves into, in the way moth marries white flame