Escape Second Death

This poem was originally published in June, 2021. This is my first published work. I am reposting it on my blog, because hundreds of new followers may have not seen it. Together, we have come a long way in six month(ish). Honestly, I’ve received so much positive feedback over the past year that I just had to send this emotional poem out into the world again. Let me know what you think in the comments. Click here to read the original post.

This poem is published in the poetry anthology, Its Not Easy by Poets’ Choice.

Six feet under sixteen tall lilies, Man considers eternity.
Eternity’s ears hear no more the lamentations from Man’s regrets.

Regrets forgotten even by sixteen green stems, but Time—the grave gardener.

The grave gardener mows not, plows not, and sows not; He litanies.
He litanies as earth buries her one truth: Man wastes with worms.


Worms tunnel the clay and mud and brains and veins of Man’s forgotten pains.
Pains the gardener annals away, to be read on heaven’s judgement day.
Judgement day, asterisk of eternity, hour saved to open graves.
Graves untilled will break open—Man soars above lilies; He’s heaven’s chosen.


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N.L. Blandford: On Writing

“People can shy away from topics because they are hard, and it can be easier to call them dark, rather than truth, or an aspect thereof. I believe that it is in the dark that we can really start to understand the true nature of our world and its people.” —N.L. Blandford

The Day god Died: Chapters I & II

“…I hated him and his kind. I hated his affluence, his expensive clothes, his chiseled looks, and the arrogance he was born too. But most of all, I hated the power he held over me, his assumption of authority, and the truth of his superiority.”

Big Moments Count

Photo: W. Alexander, 2021

Hello, and welcome my readers, followers, subscribers, cyber stalkers, Russian hackers, and anyone else who finds themselves reading my blurb. Like you, and every other humanoid, I’m just as self-obsessed and self-consumed with my life and reality, and, like you, I steady my aim toward that-ever-close-or-distant American, white-boy success, dream. So, engage and celebrate with me and forgive my little boast. For, I request a toast.

Above, a rare photo of me wearing the latest in I have yard work to do fashion: work boots, Star Trek: Next Generation socks—out of laundry, sweat soaked old-man-polo and, of course, featuring accents of grass. My hobo looking ass is sitting where my driveway meets the street. Seconds before my wife captured this moment, I grabbed the mail and read a package-slip from the publisher. My heart stopped. To hell with the yard, I thought to myself. I sat down and tore through packaging. Inside it was my poem. Well, the poem is on page 15, but it is not about the poem, it’s more than that: it’s my first writing ever published in a book and people can buy this book. Is this some grand accomplishment? No, but damnit I feel grand, and I want to enjoy it, and I want to share this moment with you—yes, You! It’s no small feat to trust that people really want to hear my voice.

I set a goal in January that I would be published twice before 2022; I am halfway there. So, go ahead and imagine Bon Jovi level excitement at my house. I feel gratified, even relieved.

Trying to publish, so far, feels like dating. Shew! So, please, help me give myself a bathroom-mirror-thumps-up. My publishing virginity is taken. Big Moments Count.

Now, I promise not to annoy you any longer, but a major part of accomplishing something is to bask in it with your friends. I lack those, but I have readers and that is sort of the same thing but better. Thank you for allowing me, and helping me make possible this giant, little step in my career as a writer. This blog is, after all, about my writing journey.

—W. Alexander. I wrote this high—on life, lol.

P.S: I just don’t know how to explain the feeling I felt when I first read my name, my words, on a physical, published book. The best I can do is say it felt like those moments in life where we sense magic; those days where every bone in your body feels good, and there is laughter and love overflowing, and you know how great that feels. I feel that.

You’re welcome to subscribe and follow me if you haven’t yet. I’m not always charming, but I like to think I share interesting things.

A Nod To Derry’s Son

Derry, New Hampshire was the longtime home of Robert Frost. This poem is in dedication to my favorite poetry book: North of Boston, and his poem October.

Paradise and Achievement: A Week in Acadia

Hello, friends and followers, I am back from vacation. I climbed summits and traversed ocean waters—harbor to harbor. I watched seals nap, Bald Eagles fight Seagulls, and I even kissed, yes kissed, a fresh caught lobster. If you know me, you know a week in nature isn’t my vibe, but, now, I am inspired to make that change. Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor fills a man, this man, with a thirst for natural beauty. I believe I am becoming a true New England artist, lol.

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Of course, a much needed, much enjoyed, week in a national park isn’t all that I experienced. My poem, the one recently accepted to be published printed. It is found in Poets’ Choice’s new Anthology Its Not Easy.

I cannot begin to tell you how proud I am of the progress I have made as a person and as an artist. I am finally, successfully, living my true self. Cheers, friends, to all whom have the courage to be their honest selves.

Below are pics of our family on vacation. For my email followers: You may have the best viewing experience if you open your email to the webpage.

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I am Published!

I am published, well soon-to-be anyway. My poem Escape Second Death, will be added to PoetsChoice’s new anthology book It’s Not Easy. I admit, I did not consider that my first published work would be poetry—I am a prose guy. However, I am excited, thrilled, and intoxicated from seeing that Accepted on my Submittable; I feel validated. Details are still coming.

Writing everyday is the dream. Writing is my pulse. I am excited to finally be able to answer the dreaded question, “Are you actually published?” with a, “Yes!” I pray this poem is the first among many, of my works, to find itself in front of readers. I am blessed and humbled, and, perhaps, way too excited over a minor publication, but, to me, it is the first points-on-the-board; I shot a three from deep.

I am not sure what I can post about the poem, so, I won’t be providing a copy of it here, until I know more about what I can do. Of course, once it goes into print, I will shout-out to everyone.

Life:

My wife and I have been buried in renovations—we don’t know why we decided to do so much at once—and the last two weeks has been filled with family and other strains on my time—volunteering, Church, favors and commitments, etcetera. My writing has really dropped off. Hoping for the routine to spark again soon.

Some Updates:

Next week, I will be in Acadia for the week. N.L., Blandford will be taking over my blog. She is a great author, with a debut release, and will share her insight and wisdom with you in the upcoming post.