Author: jennygracespoetryandcreativewritingtechniques

I am a published poet and short story writer. I have been published in SNHU's the penmen review. https://penmenreview.com/author/jenny-andrews is the link where you can find my poetry and a short story. Currently, I am writing a collection of short stories, and a collection of poetry. I am trying my hand at writing a novel. Well, not a novel, actually. Make that two novels. My passion is writing. My inspiration is Franz Krafka because he managed to see the absurdity of life. Life is all about perspective and who is telling the story. We all see this life through the lens of our experiences. Literature should inspire us to think, to analyze, and to get lost in unfamiliar worlds in which we learn something new about this human existence. It is my hope that my writing challenges the reader to think, and to see a different perspective, as well as be entertained. My faith in Jesus strengthens me and gives me the courage to survive the twists and turns of this life. My faith influences a lot of my writing in that goodness always triumphs over evil, in that love conquers all. I hope you enjoy reading my blog.

Tea House

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Inside the Japanese tea house,

I listen to water slip over rocks; I am refreshed by the coolness of morning breezes rushing through the open windows.

Birds tweet high above on the delicate tree branches.

I snuggle into the familiar comfort of the sameness of my days.

Sunlight glints off dragonfly wings,

pine branches point God-ward towards the endless blue canopy above the tea house.

Yellow wings of butterflies flutter in the sunlight and alight on the edge of the red window sill, then flutter away like delicate lace in the early morning breezes.

Calmness.

Allowing myself to breathe my own breath.

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is available on Amazon. It is available on Kindle and in paper book. I look forward to receiving your feedback.

Thanks for reading.

-Jenny

Chasing Shadows

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Chasing Shadows

Angry,

I am.

But, I bury it deeply within the folds of my skin like hidden scars.

I dare not let you see the times I have broken.

Weak,

I am,

at the knees at the thought of you.

Angry,

I am that you are smooth and like water slip through my fingertips.

Envious,

I am of you and the manner in which you glide through your days unencumbered by convention, you move from place to place like a racing wind, not settling,

just moving.

And I wish I could capture you and hold you,

but,

angry,

I am that you move like liquid through my arms.

You move through memory like shadows in late evening,

lying down and disappearing with the faltering sunlight.

I have fallen completely in love with the faltering shadow.

Angry,

I am for chasing shadows with my heart.

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle. My published name is Jenny Andrews. Thanks for reading!

-Jenny

Landscape

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Landscape

Man with gray mountains behind him in profile gestures to a dry and barren land,

his hands spaced apart to indicate a thought to convey.

His white long sleeved shirt loosely draping those shoulders I remember.

Those hands from so long ago reached for me.

Barren land so far away.

Profile forever frozen in time; I never lost that love I had felt so long ago.

Memory like dust in that barren landscape catches in his throat.

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is available on Amazon. It is available in both Kindle and paperback. Thank you for reading!

-Jenny

Ode to Ex-Husband

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Ode to Ex-husband

Forgetting to remember you.

Going to places we never went,

just so I can try out this new life,

where your negativity does not exist.

This new life where I can remember how to laugh again.

Please remember to check out my poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow.” It is published under my name Jenny Andrews. It is available in both paperback and Kindle on Amazon. I am interested in knowing what you think. Thanks!

Watching World

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WATCHING WORLD

Lives thick with regret,

things that securely hidden in the darkest depths of my heart leak out like poison.

I would wait a thousand lifetimes just to explain the unexplainable to my own reflection in the mirror of my mind.

I can still see him under the streetlight walking toward me and me pausing as if the watching world did not matter.

Memory like a movie replaying relentlessly.

Yearning to step into that scene and feel the passion again.

Memory turns to regret,

because there are things left undone,

unsaid.

And now the world has moved on and so have we.

All that remains are the promises that rot away like discarded poems in closed drawers.

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is available on Amazon/Kindle. It is available in both Kindle and paperback. I look forward to receiving your feedback. Thanks.

-Jenny

Childhood

brown wooden armchair on brown wooden floor — Photo by Marcelo Jaboo on Pexels.com

CHILDHOOD

Chair in the corner of the dining room,

and Daddy sitting in it, and only the orange glow from the ashes,

and gray puffs of smoke,

gave any signal of human presence.

Otherwise it was just the darkness and a chair in the corner,

otherwise it was just daddy in the dark and all alone.

I watched the firelight from the cigarette, as a child,

and wondered why the night was so black,

and why Daddy was so alone, and why voices rang out in the night.

I thought of Mama in the next room sleeping,

and I wondered why I was so small, and why Mama and Daddy never laughed.

And I felt like the night, cold,

and like Daddy,

and like Mama.

so all alone.

My poetry book “Life at the End of the Rainbow” is currently available at Amazon/Kindle. I would love to hear any feedback about my poetry. Thanks.

-Jenny

Arles

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Arles

Pretty painted portraits. Pink petunias, luscious lilacs.

A world suffocated in its own rich aroma of earth, sweetness. Grass like emerald blades swipe at my bare calves. Softness shouldn’t hurt but it does.

Rain teases petunias into revealing softness-a world like cotton and silk-glide by and trouble me.

Deceptively sweet.

Should I trust this God who has lulled me into a colorful floral valley warmed by sunshine and cooled by sweetly scented breezes?

Should I?

Melancholy

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Melancholy

A thought turned over in my mind; melancholy morning mulling over the rumors of his return that never will be.

I do not believe in love, but the hunger is ripe like rotted apples decaying in the sun, puddles splashing along the thought.

Love me,

I used to say,

but, rotting apples decay.

The Way Home

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The Way Home

A dream of the sun,

Pink rose, deep splash of orange shadows rush across the darkening sky.

Pressed against the moon, mountains like pyramids, obscure my view.

Haiku

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I love to experiment with different poetry techniques. One of my favorite is Haiku. I like its linguistic efficiency. Seventeen syllables (divided 5,7,5) in three lines can be a challenge because word choice is extremely important. Traditionally, Haiku is to offer an image of the natural world. The image is like word art. The reader should “see” the image.

Here are some of my Haiku poetry:

SUNRISE

Scorching sand sky sea

Sun sailing so soundlessly

Skyward searchingly

FEBRUARY SKY

Leafless branches stab

At a frozen sky and point

At the fleeing Spring

THE WALL

An upright structure

Gray stone halting my passage

To the other side.

I believe that writing should be fun; writing should be about freeing our creative expression. Too often in this world people attach monetary amounts to judge value. People will say “Well, you can’t make any money as a poet” as if money is all that matters in this world. Money, of course, is important. However, creative expression is the magic that gives this universe its timeless beauty. Creative expression makes this life worth living. Imagine if tomorrow there were no paintings, novels, poetry, movie scripts, etc. How empty our world would be! Creative expression is about freedom to express our vision of this life-the beauty as well as the ugliness. Creative expression should challenge us all to think beyond just our existence and to look into the far future. Imagine hundreds of years from now if someone could still enjoy the poetry that you have written. Think about all the poets from the past and how their words still touch the human soul right now to this day.

I can only hope that my poetry will have that kind of impact.

Thanks for reading!