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 .

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

New Poem for DVerse Open Link Night and Beyond.... Here, Hereafter

High Ceilings - oil-    Stuart Codington Andrews 2011

Here, Hereafter

What can I tell you of this place where the bosque
And the barrio intertwine,  newly cut damp alfalfa 
Curing, the hairpin road around a  pond
Where the blue heron is attentive to the rain--
That the near pine-furred foothills contain us
In a river valley thick with cottonwoods

Among them, small wooden houses
Built a lifetime ago,  sagging porches
Leaning toward the dark?  Merely that at nightfall
Someone is playing Brahms on her baby grand
Warped door open to the late summer
And that far off on the prairie a broken-tooth moon rises

On the verging autumn.  To be sure all is green and ripe
Under this undaunted and guiding refraction
Lighting the highway to the west
The corn tasseled, abundant, all of the sun-warm plunder
At its zenith and for the taking
But there is dearth on the wind, frost fire at daybreak--

The horses look out at the night in their canny and ardent
Discernment, ears pricked forward.  The spindled paint foals
I watched rise from the earth through my binoculars
Are already tall. I fear for them
When the time comes to rope them away
From the mares, ship them to the sale barn

And the indifferent plainsong of the auctioneers
And I think then not of the fate
that awaits so much beauty in the rouged dusk,
the vintage lemon-globed lamps
Lighting the way across the surging green river
But that the days fold into themselves the stained pages

Of a lifetime counting down, celebratory night
Sundered now and again by great owls
Seeing into the very earth, then aloft
Against the transient dappled moon
Bearing our alloyed dreams on
In luminous and heavy-bodied flight.


Open link night at D'Verse Poets Pub

copyright Jenne' R. Andrews   jenneandrews2010@gmail.com


Timoteo said...

Aches with the heartbreak, and the euphoria of being.

Diana Lee said...

This is an absolute delight to the senses. I want to step into these words and experience it all first-hand. Wonderful!

Maureen said...

Your brother's painting is lovely.

Again, much to exclaim over here, the extraordinary visual imagery especially: "pine-furred foothills", "broken-tooth moon", "frost fire at daybreak", "dreams . . . in luminous, heavy-bodied flight". Few equal you in imagery and lyricism. The deep feeling is here and finely controlled.

Brendan said...

Gorgeously bittersweet. You pack layers of meaning into this natural scene, extolling an end to summer, to childhood, to the innocence, to a life. It's quite a hymn, friend. - Brendan

Lady Nyo said...

Jenne, I love this! there is so much real imagery here that transports to another realm.

Very, very good...hauntingly good. Rich poetry you write!

This is a delight.

Lady Nyo

Carys said...

I fell as though I have been stood gazing at a painting, created with love and understanding for the landscape and life around it. Beautiful write.

Sheila Moore said...

a magnificent visual treat - broken-tooth moon and Lighting the way across the surging green river
But that the days fold into themselves the stained pages - are my favorites

Jannie Funster said...

Nothing as uplifting and as sad as nature in the raw -- the beauty and devastation of it, the auctioneers uncaring call.

This swept me away from stem to stern.

Heaven said...

Great images of nature here...you are certainly a painter of words ~

Pat Hatt said...

You really worked all of ones senses with this piece, wonderfully done.

Henry Clemmons said...

Reminds me of the big moon I've been seeing all week. It almost inspired me, the moon that is:)
Your poem is a true inspiration. Very well written and presented.


..a poem of substance and fine imagery, ma’am… i adore your expertise in sensibility of words and observations.. i like in particular the lines about the horses looking out at the night…. and the ending for me justifies the preceding lines.. i like the painting as well, it looks so real even at a close view.. i think there’s no need to mention but i like to say it: EXCELLENT!


Anonymous said...

Jenne, I am honored you stopped by my blog. With this poem, you paint an indelible portrait of life on the plains. I could smell the cornsilk. I could feel for the foals. I bathed in that moonlight. Thank you for a gorgeous adventure. Peace to you and yours, Amy

jen revved said...

Many thanks to each of you for such heartening comments. I look forward to our continued support of each other's work-- xxxJ

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

You made me feel as if I know intimately this landscape which is foreign to me. A very beautiful poem.

Mark Kerstetter said...

"the days fold into themselves the stained pages"

-I love that part so much. There's always a sliver - however tiny - of death on the edge of profound beauty, that infuses beauty with an almost unbearable ache in the "here." The genius of your poem is that you entrust this ache to be borne aloft by the owl, emissary of night.

James Rainsford said...

There are lines here which will live long in my poetic memory. An astounding write. full of authentic feeling and skilful stimulation of the senses. Loved it!

Charles Elliott said...

A wonderful, image-rich rural meditation. I wanted to understand your opening line, but found nothing when I tried to look up "bosque." Can you explicate?

C Rose said...

Such well composed poetry, it read so beautifully and I connected to the river valley in a perfect way. Lovely write! ~ Rose

Sharon Rose said...

I liked reading here, this causes a lot of visual flashes and imagery to the read.