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 .

Saturday, July 23, 2011

New Poem: Abend Lieder

Abend Lieder

Slowly evening takes on the garments
held for it by a line of ancient trees.
You look, and the world recedes from you.
Part of it moves heavenward, the rest falls away...
And you are left, belonging to neither fully...

 -- Rilke, Evening 

Left, done in, concluding human
You belong to neither
World.  Not the green one
Alfalfa’s redolent windfall
Stretching off to the Wyoming border

Promising enough-- enough for all.

Not the world light sears
With her very hands
Calling us toward each other
Out of our scarecrow sleep

Then belonging neither
To summer nor to light.
You know your true home

The evening, the crepuscule
Where each thing is taken up
In the slow-motion
Onslaught of night

See where the horse stands
Before the frieze of elms
Looking out at the dusk

Now, see her vanish
So that we by faith
know that she drops her head
To crop the dry July grass
Soothed by evening’s hands.

Oh yes, meine Abendsliebe
My notte d’amore
I know you

You rescue me
From my world-weariness.
You give me the compline
Of the palomas
In their dreaming cloister

You dress me
In a waterfall of lavender
Take into your star-laced body
The cooling stones of my fear.

 copyright Jenne' R. Andrews 2011.  To enjoy a Rilke poem each day visit A Year with Rilke hosted by Ruth Mowry and Lorenzo "Lapislazuli".  I have found these posts to be wonderful prompts.  


Maureen said...

Lament, yes, but there's such a lovely sense of hope and resolution in the concluding stanza.

There are always words or phrases or entire lines that stand out in your poems, as here, "scarecrow sleep", "compline/ of the palomas", "cooling stones of my fear".

You clearly have found a source of inspiration in Rilke, which is not at all surprising. A painter I know uses his words for prompts for her extraordinary artwork.

jen revved said...

Thank you, Maureen...xxxj

Timoteo said...

So that we by faith/know that she drops her head/To crop the dry July grass/Soothed by evening's hands

Love that...so much we take by faith...the sun will rise in the morning, and on and on.

Tess Kincaid said...

I absolutely love the line "...dry July grass
Soothed by evening’s hands". Beautiful.

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is a veritable feast of words and images - so beautifully done.

erin said...

jen. jen~