Tag Archives: writing

GREAT AUNT JESSIE – poem

, or we don’t talk to the ones

who

know and survive

          It is past time

          to call you back again

          The old ones are dead

Like water bright

in the eye

           The brush of memory is too wide

           And the surface is shimmered and wrong

Long afternoons listening

to the old woman about 

her old women

           The algae of remembering obscures

Again and again.

Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis  © 1985

Welcome to Rhode Island Writer’s Harvest

Welcome to Rhode Island Writer’s Harvest (RIWH). This initiative was launched on May 21, 2021. This CALL TO ACTION is an open invitation to all Rhode Island writers (all genres), readers, and supporters. Please follow the link below to read, review, and join me in this community of Rhode Island writers and those who want to give back to help end hunger in Rhode Island. Thank you to Steve Maciel and Billy Shore – many blessings.

Thank you,

Jessan

Jessan Dunn Otis

Founder|Director

Rhode Island Writer’s Harvest (RIWH)

https://rhodeislandwritersharvest.wordpress.com/

#PUSH – Persist Until Something Happens

If you feel you’ve hit a brick wall, if everyone is telling you you’re being foolish and will never succeed, if you believe your dream is unattainable, if you think you’re the only person in the world that’s ever been [____fill in this blank___], if you can’t find your joy anymore, if the curb looks up to you, if you think you’re too young, if you think you’re too old, if all you seem to be getting is failure, if anyone has ever called you stupid, fat, and/or ugly, if you simply can’t go another step; repeat after me, like a mantra: #PUSH.

This is just to say… For ARO

This is just to say I’ve left you a bouquet of wildflowers, fresh-picked from our garden, on the table in front of the couch where you, often, sit. You are sleeping. The sun’s up and so am I and the birds and other living things. Continue to breathe easy in the room across the hall. https://pic.twitter.com/is3Bgi1j2O

Love,

~ Jessan

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

This was originally posted on @Twitter on June 22, 2022.

June 1, 2022 – Talking to myself… #essay

This is me, talking to myself: How can you call yourself a writer if you don’t write?

Me replying to me: You mean writing inside my head doesn’t count?!

Sort of; but, not really. Where’s the proof?

Dang!

Okay! Okay! I’ll put it down on paper/print. Better?

It’s a start. Now what?

Keep going.

Everything worth doing is worth practicing. Like any activity, writing takes practice. It doesn’t much matter what form the writing takes – be it prose, poetry, opinion piece, an article, a letter, a journal entry, etc. The thing is the writing of it. Getting it out of your head and putting it down in some form. If nothing else, it’s talkin’ to yourself, through writing.

Does anyone else have to read it?

Nope, not necessarily. Your choice.

If noone else reads it, does it still have value?

Always.

So, what you’re saying is that you’re re-committing to “putting it down”, no matter what, in whatever form, on a regular basis – yes?

Yes. I promise.

I’ve got my eyes on you; and, look forward to what comes next.

Thanks. Me, too.

Silence and Solitude – Life Lessons

I learned to sit, in silence and solitude, at the end of my street, on Narragansett Bay, looking out and way, when I was young and questioned everything.

When the world was too much with me, I went to that place.

As I celebrated more birthdays I went less and less; and, finally, moved away to begin another part of my life.

Recently, I visited that street, again. I walked to the end of the street and looked out. The place I used to sit is no longer there. Nevertheless, I can bring it all back, as if it was the day before yesterday.

It’s come to my attentions that sitting in silence and solitude is, frequently, questioned, invaded and/or under suspicion in this society. Some folks just have to come up to you, say anything, and break that embrace of peace in which you were sitting. I don’t know why.

The long life lessons I learned as a young girl, sitting for hours sometimes, were to feel, with my entire spirit, to listen with an acutely tuned ear to the patterns of life and nature; and, most important, to stay open and be patient. I did not know then (only learned years later), I would come into the writing life and what lessons I already knew about feeling, listening, staying open, and patience.

I still question everything. I still create and/or find places where I can sit, in silence and solitude, and look out and away.

Where and how did you learn your life lessons?

Stay safe. Take care of yourself and each other.

In gratitude,

~ Jessan

photo credit: Jessan Dunn Otis (c) 2021