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Jenne' Andrews Online
Orfea is no angel.....
A Mocking Bird Sings of Transformation
“Lovely night, exquisite night...”
Tales of Hoffman.
Could I not have been a water lily
Cradled by the graceful arpeggios of the stream:
Acquiescent to my destiny
I would so rather be one of those
In Monet’s painting
Uncomplicated, perennially whole in quietude,
Pollinating without discernible passion,
Casting off spores into April’s thawing water
Than what and who I appear to be;
Before dawn, human and worn,
Dreaming, of the equivocal:
Of those I would hold, my serial loves, dispersed
To farther seasons.
In deeper sleep I ride the downdraft of predation
Or sleep, head under my wing
Unto death it seems, acclimated
To the creviced rock, sparse nest,
Inner song of mourning.
Meadowlarks carol: soft rains come.
A white owl intones,
In moon-cast trees.
Jenne’ Andrews
Winter 07
Welcome...
Orfea has long been asleep and now bestirs herself... She sees dawn break over the tree of life, knowing that time waits for no woman-- that Art must be rescued from the cradle and delivered into the light of day....
udate november 2010-- Greetings to fellow cyber voyagers/writers-- I've been very busy with my fabulous blogs-- Loquaciously Yours-- and La Parola Vivace -- I also moderate Poets on She Writes-- check out that great site currently around 9k women writers from all over the world!
These days both WordPress and Blogger have made it oh so easy to combine a website and a blog by offering pages with menus and a host of templates, widgets et al. But I still love this site! To read, comment and contact me, please sign up for either blog or e-mail me, palabrasymas@hotmail.com.
Since last January I've written a memoir of my trip to Europe in '73, Nightfall in Verona, currently under submission, a novel in draft, The Rose of Scylla, and two collections of poetry both of which contain a few older poems from grad school days but are chiefly new work-- A Mocking Bird Sings Bel Canto and I Cannot Carry the Plums. Mockingbird is under submission to one small press and two contests-- stay tuned!
Please scroll down the entire length of each page of my site. Enjoy my work and items of interest here and contact me if you like at palabrasymas@hotmail.com . Copywriting portfolio parked at http://www.palabrasymas.bravehost.com .
Jenne’Rodey Andrews, Writer-- Lipsticked Orfea...
Status: Producing, self-publishing online-- here. Occasionally submitting polished work to journals & e-zines. Will link to "forthcoming" here.
Curriculum Vita
"Calling" -- A Poem
I know it is spring here because the cries in the grass
penetrate my nightmares, my nightsweats;
I rise then, and navigate the wrought iron stairs with my healing leg,
go out on the spare walker, calling the kitten. Overhead, a red hawk.
I call and it beelines toward me, tiny, eyes crusted shut, starving
a voice as big as the world.
I scoop it up, yellow mote, carry it in my teeth
like a madwoman, stumping back to the house
There are still more voices under the house;
the puppies wake and cry for their formula.
Sweat runs down my back; my breasts I have forgotten
to fetter for the day. It is the eve
of my sixtieth year.
I so want to swaddle that which makes no deamnds,
the dolls I paint in the morninig,
their serene faces catching the light.
I feel erosion in my bones,
one molar rots away;
I am at the stove, whisking egg yolks into goat's milk,
Thinking of my wedding photo, my dark curly hair
the blush in my cheeks,
the trains leaving town without me.
Jenne' Andrews
June 3, 2008
Evanescent and...
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