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, November 27, 2011

New Poem: The Time of the Red Sofa

photo by  Christine Donnier-Valentin

The Time of the Red Sofa

This should be the time when the world
Makes the heart-journey to Jerusalem
To lay down its arms.

That is what the forlorn objects
Abandoned in the streets say to us

The refuse of our plentiful living that piles up
And spills from the door-mouths.

Are we not done in from watching
The rivers of blood overflow?

And hearing the cascades of angry words
Come down, like a rain of ash
from the mountain?

It is Advent, and a red couch
Appears against a brick wall
In the warehouse district of my city

The pigeons marvel and remark
Among themselves:
What is this thing that 
has come to pass?

It is an unnoticed gift, like them all
In their inviting and reclusive silences 
The miming artifacts of  
winter's house:

Don’t hate, don’t rage
You spent human being;
Use me like an alleluia to
reignite your elation
at being alive.

Many thanks to Tess Kincaid for another splendid prompt at Magpie Tales.  xj
copyright Jenne' R. Andrews


Sheila Moore said...

what a beautiful and timely message! Are we not done in from watching
The rivers of blood overflow?
- I hope we are done soon. And the last stanza is perfection.

Laurie Kolp said...

Beautiful... I love the metaphor of angry words crashing down the mountain.

thingy said...

What a beautiful and emotional piece.

Tess Kincaid said...

Beautiful message, beautiful write...

Maureen said...

Lovely how you worked in the references to Advent and the meaning of the season of renewal.

Zoe said...

The refuse of our plentiful living that piles up
And spills from the door-mouths.

Oh so true. You weave words with skill as always, Jen. This challenges and questions, leaving me thinking and seeing the need for change. Lovely. xx

Anonymous said...

The pigeons' commentary has a Christmas carol / Hallelujah chorus feel, at the same time as there's a winter-as-storehouse recuperative sense. It's interesting to see these two elements together.

Martin said...

I like this, a lot. A sofa, no matter how old, can be a life-saver.

Ruth said...

O I love this. I smiled at the very first line. How perfect. And yet surprising, and fresh.

Rage is associated with red, yet how beautiful to contemplate the season of red, with a sofa as alleluia.

You're brilliant.

Trellissimo said...

Graceful and well constructed. Thank you

Other Mary said...

Oh, love it! 'Are we not done in...' great line. Yes, it's high time we listen to the pigeons!

C Hummel Kornell a/k/a C Hummel Wilson said...

Beautiful. It does seem we have become a disposable society. Love the way you perceived this one. Well done.

Jinksy said...

"The refuse of our plentiful living that piles up and spills from the door-mouths."

How very true...

Isabel Doyle said...

Lovely poem Jenne, I particularly liked 'use me like an Allelulia'. Thought provoking and appropriate to the season.

HyperCRYPTICal said...

What a beautiful write - thank you.

Anna :o]