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 13, 2013

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

This poem was set in motion by this week's photo prompt at The Mag.....

I Was a Mariner

It does no good to hide from truth;
not even by staying out of the light,
or away from mirrors.

One foot then another
over the creaking floor’s expanse.
The mind re-booting a refrain;
Has it come to this?

Even so, winter arrives
at the shores of the body.
A hand freckles, its knuckles sprung.
In the night someone in the heart’s
polar cove calls out;

I was a mariner, sailing the seven seas.
I was the low wind on the graves.
I was the rising bread, a soul becoming,
malleable in your hands.

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2013


Kathe W. said...

oh this is lovely- especially the last stanza...

Maureen said...

Great response, Jenne!

Berowne said...

Beautifully written, and rather moving...

Sue said...

The poem moves me. Thanks.


Yvonne Osborne said...

This is really beautiful. I especially love the third stanza.

Tess Kincaid said...

Winter arrives at the shores of the body...oh I'm feeling those sprung knuckles...lovely, soulful write, Jen...