My Life is Gratitude–Happiness, My Brother!

May I say I am filled with Joy?

Yes I may. I may rejoice in non-violence

Of the Tree planted by the water

That sinks its roots deep into soil,

When drought comes it bears fruit,

Love and kindness, this is what I am?

Fullfilment of my father’s joy, I am the oldest,

My responsibility to stop criticism of brother

My brother, after all these years standing

Before dad, before world saying, love,

“I love my brother Doug.” Mear saying

Gives forth great listening power, to reafirm

To understand, to let be “the offer, the visit!”

Will make another attempt, going yet again

Wonderment of Love, non-violence

AS Dr. King, as Ghandi, reaching, reaching

Never ever again to condesend, leave my love

“The hug, let below my voice.” Never to shout again.

Brother, little things, more than we can understand!

Life of Light, Jesus giving forth marters

Early Christians, aleways marter, willing

To reach “the arrow” into heart, pull out,

I am 67, he turns 64, heart disease, living

Such that he cannot reach out, cannot quit music,

So I reach to brother Robert Douglas, such

Beauty in name in love, in this tree, in his tree

WE are Love in brotherly love of animals

Seen since small boy, I was small boy, I did’t understand,

Walked, rode away, flew to Amsterdam, trains in Europe,

Home to skepticism as he remained away,

Our dog, given forth, alloewed freedom like

Our Cat John Milton to roam free, this to die

In freedom, like brother, his freedom away

From Doug is dad I stand this Douglas Fir scared

From fire, from infestation, I take responsibility

To listen to allow Jersalum, not of not reaching out

He does not receive, this is love to stand in Judea

Nevertheless to understand this Tree, my Brother!



Published by elgwyn

I was a University and community college instructor. I am an ordinary man writing for artistic reasons, and simple taste-- blogs are an answer to high priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to print his 1000 paper books himself because in 1855 poetry did not sell. It does not sell now unless you have a Pulitzer Prize, and even then, the poet usually makes a living in other ways than poetry. In all ages there have been writers writing out of their own reasons. I am an older man with fewer computer skills than my daughter. Blogs let me reach an audience missed by books, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience. My two self-published books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude, Charles E Taylor, MFA, Xlibris.com and a third coming out sometime next year, through The Book Patch: For Patty Brown... satisfy needs to hold books, and, yet, still read as electronic books which are easier to produce than paper books. The blog allowed me to write a compendium of my writing. I can combine composition with production. Wordpress provides word processing with production. When the writer finishes writing they press publish and then a finished piece. I’m happy to present to you a slice of my personal writing. Do enjoy what you read!

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