Tag Archives: Jessan Dunn Otis

Swimming Under Water – poem

swimming underwater - woman

Swimming Under Water – poem

 

Walking away from home the macadam is still warm

black and sticky and the air          air          is

feeling the line of day and night as another mystery

 

To the end of the concrete walk

across cooled grass and over the warm stone to

the smell is sweet rotting fish and seaweed that is home, too

 

I leave my clothes on and swim south to the sea-thing

away from shore under water hearing my air rise

to be the ocean holding me all over in phosphorous, as eyeballs

ache, blurring the stones and the crabs scutter away.

 

(c)1983, 1989, 2015 – Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis – 1989 American Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, Great Lakes Poetry Press, Chicago, Chuck Kramer, Ed. & Publisher, p. 88.

 

 

Falling Into Your Eyes – for CKW – poem

Big Red Heart

Falling Into Your Eyes

                   for CKW

Two black birds fly together

as if the shadow and the object

were coming to the same place

 

A tongue wags from the stump

as if the song of presence

that lament brings speaks

after so much silence

 

A white star flashes on a dark blue

directly over the heart

and you say

                   who will come to us

                   who will give us solace.

 

(c) 1981, 2015 ~  Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis

Jessan Dunn Otis | Writer

AmeriCymru

The Day After Thanksgiving 2015 – essay

blessings

The Day After Thanksgiving 2015 – essay

Today is Friday, November 27, 2015 – the day after Thanksgiving.  Yesterday was a quiet, thank-filled, beautiful day.

As usual, I was up early – before sunrise.  Quiet time.  Focus.  Reflect.

Bright sun.  Dry, crisp Rhode Island air.  Telephone conversations with family and friends.  E-mails to others.  Thanksgiving Day parade playing in the background.

Later in the morning – preparations of favorite dishes to contribute to the shared dinner in the afternoon. Mashed potatoes, with fresh-chopped garlic, fresh rosemary, sour cream, butter, salt and pepper.  Baby peas and pearl onions in a light cream sauce.  My mother’s recipe for pineapple upsidedown cake, with extra maraschino cherries as part of the decoration, begun, and, then, baked in a black, cast iron fry pan – as that’s the best way.  The perfume of fruits, fixings and fresh herbs blending into an aromatic, Thanksgiving day memory.

After we (Al, Gus-The Wonder Dog and I) arrived at my younger son’s home, the first whiff of turkey, with homemade cornbread stuffing, wafted down the stairs. Added to our feast was: Al’s homemade mashed carrots and turnips, with sweet butter, and; Ces’ turkey, stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce and brussel sprouts.  What a feast!  All washed down with a glass or two of dark amber Duchesse de Bourgogne.

What was required next was to temporarily step away from that table, with a few remnants of the fixings left on the plates.  One must leave room for the two desserts.

Stepping into the late afternoon air was a welcome respite, all three dogs (Gus, Betty and Lucy) bouncing around, still looking for a bit of extra food and (always) for our attentions.

By then, the day had turned unseasonably mild, with a damp sweetness beginning to come in.  No jackets required.  Sun lowering a bit more in the West.  That certain slant of light.  Three of us talked on the terrace of food and incidental things, attempting to wiggle out a bit more space.

After a sufficient respite, the desserts were laid out – the aforementioned pineapple upsidedown cake (served with Brooklyn Creamery Company’s Extra Thick, Single Cream) and a pumpkin pie, with pecan and praline crumble, decorated with rich, yellow whipped cream edging, courtesy of Pastiche; and, some rugelach, just for good measure.

I cannot recall that last time I was as full as I was yesterday.  One more bite and it would have spoiled everything.

Another retreat to the terrace, sunset by now.  Lights of the city coming up.  The trio of red, flashing warning lights at the top of the three stacks at the electric company flickering like erratic fireflies through the branches of the de-leafed, skeletal trees.  The low whir of other folks coming or going, crossing the I-Way, East to West to East.

More incidental conversations, each happily fed and full, enjoying the evening’s air and city silence.

The divided leftovers are still covered and untouched.  I’m just beginning to feel hungry, again.

A singularly memorable Thanksgiving Day 2015.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As a way of continuing to celebrate a Day of Thanks; and, to return many favors and blessings received, please accept The Thanksgiving Reader, created by Seth Godin and others.  This is a free download; and, can be generously shared, individually and/or globally.  Thank you, as always, Seth.

 

 

 

 

çok güzel – poem

ç SplashHearto k   g ü z e l – poem

           for Sarik, Lale, and Leyla – with Love

 

 

Your ash and smoke have

filled my skin

The silent music enlarges

my lungs

 

Celebrate and whisper on

each hand and eye that

loved me

 

Further than the green lights

from the opposite side

 

I love your home          because

I know that you are there

From where I always stood

in the cool cathedral of the night

I could, at last, see further

than myself

 

Even stones spoke in an

eloquent tongue as soft

as flesh as liquid as constant,

washing water over turquoise tiles

and my mouth and hands and

feet were washed away

 

Leaving is another stone

that is dissolved in sleep

 

Mountains and snow are the

memory of separation in a

dream of leaving and coming back,

again.

 

(c) 1988, 2015 ~ Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis

“The first step is, simply, everything.” ~ jdo – dedication & poem

Today is Sunday, October 4, 2015; and, I celebrate three (3) birthdays.

My mother – Helen Smith Dunn – who loved me (and continues to do so) more than I knew.  Until we meet again…

My sister-in-law – Rita Verardo.

A young one, SweetBoy, gone too soon – Turul Kaan Cilam.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

“The first step is, simply, everything.” ~ jdo

               To His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama

Your raised eyebrow and shy, quizzical half smile     Who

could have known where your boychild would walk and

how far

Circles within circles

High in those isolated, beautiful, brutal mountains

Prayer flags

Meditation

One sought and found

Turning away, finally, from politics to passion, the road

to peace is begun with one step

Turn and turning in a widening gyre, come close in the spiral, into

the center of our truer heart

“It’s as easy to laugh as it is to dance,” she said; as shared laughter

rose up, as if prayers rippling through air as flags, flapping and tethered,

as if we could touch it simultaneously

“Throw sparks.  Create fires.” she said

You said, “Patience and compassion.”

Dream peace

Learn to recreate it within     This is my wish, too     

This moment, this moment,

this moment, only this moment.

Jessan Dunn Otis – (c) 2012 – written at the request of Leon Stuparich, Director, ROAD TO PEACE, with thanks

DISSOLVE – poem

As when you touch yourself for the first

time inside and out

Or when you have left without saying goodbye

for the last time and you do not know it yet

Like walking into a dark room where everything

is known and you are excited that

something alive and beautiful will brush

your face

Or I am the long tree whose branches

move gently wild from the wind

and leave marks on your face

that you will remember when you dream

and you will go back to stare for days

until your eyes ache

Like arms that nobody who has ever loved you

has had before or has held you more strong

than you will ever be held again

And you will weep because you know that

that is true.

(c) Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis – 1985/1987 – CQ, California State Poetry Quarterly, Spring-Summer 1987, Volume 14, Number 1, p.11.

Breaking silence: we have work to do – essay

“Today, like every other day, we wake up empty/and frightened….” ~ Rumi

There are days when the world is too much with us – when the news reports are about the terrifying things we continue to do to each other, when an unexpected telephone call too early in the morning changes everything and there’s nothing you can do about it but pray (for a long time) and to show them you love them, when where you were once able to see beauty in that certain slant of light or find solace in the quietude of that sunset or the ocean; or, the enduring love of that person who gently tries to prod you back to your better self falls on your deaf heart.  A long-loved friend dies – you were better than sisters to each other. The drowning of another friend’s 3 year old son strikes another shattering blow.  Like a slug being hit by salt, you curl up, tight.

You know you’re in trouble; but, can’t find your way back.

Slowly, by constancy, grace, force of will and that invisible Love, a small chink finds its way in.  Belly laughs return. Someone you’ve reached out to after your long silence interrupts your conversation, prays for you, and your heart lifts a little – amen.

No one said this life would be easy; and, sometimes it’s not. But, it’s worth it – every time.

Gratitude.

~ Jessan

“…Everything/has to do with loving and not loving/This night will pass./Then we have work to do.” ~ Rumi

Thank You ~ many languages

Thank You ~ many languages

At This Time of the Turning of the Year – essay

At This Time of the Turning of the Year – essay

At this time of the turning of the year my thoughts go in two directions – turning back and turning forward.  Simultaneously, I stand exactly where and as I am in this moment.

Turning back, 2014 has been another year of continuing to become accustomed to not being able to hear my youngest sister’s laughter, to share a story of our adventures and expectations.  Until we meet, again, Genevieve – I love you and miss you, BabyGirl.  Your children and I will tell stories to your grandchildren of growing up together and of your gentleness and loving ways – part of your legacy.

2014 has, also, been a year of good, sometimes challenging, professional and personal work for me.  Collaborating with clients to create custom-crafted content, strategies, buffing and polishing existing content until it shines and communicates exactly, mentoring and more.  Good folks.  Good work.  Thank you for your confidence and continued support.  My special thanks to Adam J. Kovitz, an extra-ordinary Friend and collaborator.  Get this guy!

My personal work continues to shift, evolve, change, as it has since 1985.  My gratitude to all poets and writers who came before me is steadfast and enduring.  A particular nod of the head must go to Michael S. Harper, 1st Poet Laureate for the State of Rhode Island, through whose work, counsel, teachings and friendship I have been (and continue to be) enlarged, challenged, humbled, sustained.  Thank you, MSH.

Gratitude, also, for the blessings of love from my three SweetMen – Al, Sandro and Ces.  You enrich and sweeten my life; and, are loved more than you know.

In contrast, there were parts of 2014 that I would wish I never witnessed nor experienced.  Continued killings, hatreds, viciousness, turmoil, senseless slaughters, ongoing acts of unkindness.  Heartbreaking.  Destructive beyond all measure.  Repeating history.  Lessons not learned.

Once again I ask myself: “What is my part in this?”  I ask you: “What is your part in this?”

And, so its continues to go – another month turned, another year passes.

At this time of the turning of the year, I remember, rejoice, reflect and rejuvenate.  May the blessings and joy of loving and being loved by someone somewhere follow and sustain you throughout 2015.  May all your troubles be little ones; and, the wind always at your back.

#Happy2015

~ Jessan

IF WE… For ARO – poem

IF WE…                    

Big Red Heart

Big Red Heart

– For ARO

If we were not able to touch, as we do   If it

was not possible to share in the ways that

only you and I have made with each other

would we still love in the ways we do now?

 

If we had no apparent means of enjoying all our senses have encouraged us to explore

would we, still, love each other, as we do?

 

If we, unexpectedly, found ourselves, inexplicably, dumb-made, incapable to

communicate

the shades and variations and variables of how we love each other   would we continue,

as we have, to grow in it?

 

My reply is, simply, this   Your laughter is my rain, it nourishes me   Your tears, my tears

Your joy, my joy   beyond my breath.

 

(c) 12/3/04  Jessan Dunn Otis

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Happy Anniversary SweetMan ~

Love ( all ways),

~ Jessan

Magic Words – essay

Magic Words

Being raised as I was, there were three phrases or “Magic Words” that were consistently spoken and required – “Please”, “Thank you”, and “Excuse me”.

When I had children of my own, I taught them the same lessons I had been taught when I was growing up – both in our home and outside our home.

Over time, I’ve come to realize that what I came to believe was common courtesy is, often, not so common.  Nevertheless, the lessons I was taught about the “Magic Words” have persisted.

To this day, I hear my Mother’s and Father’s voice whenever I speak or write those words; and, I continue to wonder why they’ve, often, become so uncommon in life and in work.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for teaching me one of many important, simple lessons.

Your Loving and Devoted Daughter,

~ Jessan

Thank You ~ many languages

Thank You ~ many languages