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Alexander Gwyn Poem
Thoughts from within,
thoughts from without,
thoughts from there about.
Conjured in our mind,
conjured in our soul,
conjured from there about.
Are these dreams
or visions
or living life,
or somewhere there about.
It is from this kaleidoscope
that seeps doubt.
Imagination our needle
creativity our thread
our tapestry of being
holds us in good stead.
From this solidarity of truths
an intertwined strength,
consciousness above the clouds
existence of beauty and grace.
Truths become self evident
from this realm,
the elegant stitching
eviscerating the vagueness of doubt
never to be there about.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
The Tether of Our Souls
People who plant the great oak trees
will never live to see the wonderful,
cool shade it will provide.
You see this act is not for only oneself,
but for all, a triumphal tribute
allowing all things to survive.
These acts of kindness,
the tether of our souls,
bring the ultimate reward
to so many branches,
it is wondrous to behold.
This gift to nature and mankind
comes from an unsullied origin,
a purity that resonates
through all things that are intertwined.
Soothing the soul of the source
will linger forever,
but it's the roots, limbs and leaves,
that bind us all together.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2026
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
Boundless and limitless in depth,
the deep blue sea is at rest
A continuum of ebbs and flows,
easing without cause,
never ceases to gain only pause.
Then currents arise from movements below,
tranquility disturbed for a new show.
Crashing waves sending water into the sky,
every crescendo, begs to know why.
Droplets appear in desperation,
was this only due to life’s separation..
Bright beams of light break into view,
seems vaguely familiar,
somehow not new.
Now the journey seems all too reminiscent,
as the cresting comes to its ultimate end.
Droplets reunite with its founder,
completing its journey from down under.
Boundless and limitless in depth,
the deep blue sea is at rest.
A continuum of ebbs and flows,
easing without cause,
never ceases to gain only pause.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
The Lone Wolf
These footprints in the snow
have a heartbeat of one.
A unique rhythm to the steps
yet familiar to some.
The lone wolfs breath
dense as winter’s air,
eyes glow through the fog
with their intrepid stare.
The wolf moves onward
with a steady pace,
leaves bristle in the wind,
echo with grace.
The solo journey
we all finally take
guide us away
from all made mistakes.
As the sun sets each day
Til” death,
the hour of the lone wolf
will fall upon us all.
Life with love ones
will come and go,
but the heartbeat of one
will always walk alone in the snow.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
Chaotic kaleidoscope
fantastically aware,
brilliant symphony
dazzling in the air.
Combinations from
the prism of light,
engaged entangled
with their own flight.
Stratospheric starbursts,
whispering winds,
haunting howling,
where it all begins.
Radiant eyes,
eclipsing the mind,
luring all consciousness
emptiness left behind.
Gracious gratuity
gifting in kind,
endless motion
in the stillness of time.
Enlightenment enriched
from dark depths,
Sprouting illuminations
in spectacular breadth.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
Before the beginning and after the end,
All comes full circle into a perfect blend.
The idea of passing
into another realm,
feels just fine
without a God
at the helm.
It is in the middle
where is the difficult part.
An ear torn off teddy,
mom and dad break it off,
your son goes missing,
ultimately a shattered heart.
These tumultuous days
turn man to believing,
looking for answers
but instead finding reasons,
to do as they may,
to create their own realm,
where now their created God
is at the helm!
But in the end
this is all for nothing,
because there is always
the same ultimate coming.
Before the beginning and after the end,
All comes full circle into a perfect blend.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
Do as you like do as you may,
revealing consequences held at bay.
Long breath of words repeated until true,
fact or fiction, there is no clue.
Depth of deception so deep,
spoken by ghouls claiming innocence.
Barefaced cruelty spawning death and despair,
decency mislaid, exchanged for a doctrinaire.
Men and women at the head of these Serpentes,
above all laws for these blamable bourgeoisie.
As always the day of reckoning will finally come
where all poisonous vipers will be denounced.
Things will be Announced!
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2026
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
The burden bird’s wings in flight,
a duty none should bear
its weight never fair.
Although these wings
a stalwart agent,
is it enough to continue this fight?
An unfair question
to say the least,
the bully burden bird
does not cease.
It is a true beast.
A relentless creature,
a creation by one’s self
but one can’t help.
A hostile hammer
a continuing beat,
there is no sleep.
The fatigue is real
from this self imposed state,
oh please oh please
if only it would retreat.
Forward the burden bird’s flight
with an altitude now lower.
This birds journey to finally end
when there are flowers.
Only to know
if comes departed or celebration
wings will need to soar
bringing true salvation.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2026
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
At lunch with friends,
all would chat and laugh,
into the background of the rambling I faded,
smartly smiling trying to stay present.
Nobody seemed to notice my detachment,
a glossed over replica of myself.
Then home again alone,
the crushing silence and numbness of the room,
it was time to turn on the TV,
my homegrown anesthetist,
my savior from the foreboding gloom.
I would endlessly watch,
until the next rendezvous with friends was near,
I would get myself together
accompanied by my old friend anxiety and fear.
Finally the sun would set and my hope would rise,
the heavy weight on my shoulders to be lifted
by the fermented grapes of wine.
This temporary salvation had costs to bear,
awakening with bloodshot eyes,
head pounding,
attempting to smile in the mirror,
but that reflection was not there.
This endless routine was easier
than crossing over to the other side.
A place of unknown unwinding wisdom
no where to close your eyes and hide.
Years passed and a day came.
In front of the mirror I sat,
looking through my reflection,
my person, my soul itself.
I stepped into the other side,
pale white walls with endless halls,
no windows or doors.
I touched the wall as I glided through,
my fingers were transparently immersed,
now my body and soul,
comfortably snuggled in this realm alone.
This place of anxiety and fear
that I so avidly avoided,
now a tranquil solitude,
the other side of reflection,
a place once visited,
brings peace to the unknown.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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Alexander Gwyn Poem
Promises made promises broken,
a continuum as long as spring follows winter.
An inevitable sequence, a metal chain,
locking all pledges of honesty into a dishonest oath.
These loyal pledges will fail for both.
It may not be the promises broken,
instead the subject matter of the pledge.
If the adjuration for an honest pact
was a lifetime bond,
it may be here promises hold strong.
If there was a day
when becoming cross at a loved one
was the last breath spoken to them,
would you honor a promise to yourself
never to let that happen again.
One never knows the last time it will be,
causal callous words last spoken a tragedy.
Then all let’s make this promise together,
a pact that will be kept now and forever.
Words to one another will always have
respect, dignity and love, assuring this pact not broken,
never knowing it could be the last words spoken.
Copyright © Alexander Gwyn | Year Posted 2025
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