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 before retiring. I also worked in fast food restaurants, and retail stores. I am an ordinary man writing for because I want to write and because my education prepared me to write; BA English lit, MA English, EdS higher education, and MFA creative writing, free verse poetry and essays. Blogs are an answer to high-priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to self-publish his first 1000 copies of the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass because in 1855 poetry did not sell. Most poets make a living in other ways than writing. Wallace Stevens was an insurance executive, and TS Eliot was a banker. Many writers teach, and always there have been writers who have written because they needed to express their thoughts and feelings. They wrote not necessarily to make money but to express "the old universal truths of the human heart" according to Faulkner. Here I reach a wider audience I missed than by self-publishing, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience for less expense than self-publishing. I self-published my first books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude; poetry and photo books which were easier to self-publish than to seek a not to seek a publisher company. This blog allows me to write for an interested audience because I write poetry and personal essays. I write for a friendly audience and present to you a slice of my writing. Perhaps you will enjoy what you read.

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