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 .

Monday, February 4, 2013

New Poem, for The Mag and Beyond....

On Viewing the Colonnade 
of the Manchester Public Library

If only the heart had its own colonnade,
stone lions to guard its tenderness,
how it winces and shudders in the chest.

So that when dark news comes
on darker mornings, faith eclipsed,
vein-webbed hands still,
we might feel the plunge of the red hawk
in our chests and stand strong.

I am no match for dark news,
despite my spine’s luminous colonnade.
Lions of fear bark in me the night long.
And then light verges on the world
so that what we have done to one another
is a bas relief of war on salt-abraded walls.

Ever, the inner voice speaks:
But the portico resolve builds
falls to grief’s sea; alabaster dissolves
to stuttering brack, the mind
goes eclipse-dark,
even the staunchest heart bears
watermark and stain.

to see the photo prompt leading to this poem visit Tess Kincaid's The Mag.  

Jenne' R. Andrews
Copyright February 2013


Berowne said...

Sensitive and insightful. Well done...

Maureen said...

A stand-out for this week's prompt, Jenne. Beautiful and lyrical. I especially like your first stanza and also the line "my spine's luminous colonnade". Wonderful!

Tess Kincaid said...

Touching, intelligent write, Jen...endure...yes...

Hedgi said...

That's fair wonderous. I love the feel of it... Endure. Really, a very powerful piece.

Ann Grenier said...

This line is just one that strikes a chord in me, Jenne: ..."we might feel the plunge of the red hawk
in our chests and stand strong."
Hard to choose only one from your imaginative lines, which describe so succinctly, a painful state that holds many of us in its' grip at the hearing, or often unreasonable anticipation, of bad news.

Congratulations on your recently published poems.