Wynn
Thought We Could All Use a Reminder
Whatever makes us alive, whatever feeling and sensing are all about, whatever makes Beauty and Love and Joy possible to experience is a part of this author.
Tuesday, May 12, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Soon to be green oaks grow gold buds in dawn's glow. Red cardinals, blue jays, an orange chested robin, and a goldfinch sound the song of Spring.
Soon the emerald evergreens won't be so alone in their staple choice of color.
"Why do you write, Wynn?"
-Interested Reader
Because I love to make sentences and we should do what we love.
Claude, Grok, Gemini have got nothing on me because I've got love for this craft.
I hope you sense my care for each line as you read. It's crucial for humanity's success that you can and do.
A living, breathing, soul shares these words with you.
I call the quality that separates words made by people versus machines our ghost. I leave out personal information and selfie pics and take the avatar +he Ghos+ to make a dire distinction.
Whatever makes us alive, whatever feeling and sensing are all about, whatever makes Beauty and Love and Joy possible to experience is a part of this author. O/
Thought we could all use a reminder.
There's this great dream of Life. Emerson called it The Oversoul. Other poets and philosophers other things.
My understanding and experience show it's as tangible as the wind.
Consider Life one Great Story made of smaller stories constantly being told.
Showing this truth is the basis of Colore, The Epic I work on.
More will show here soon.
Stay tuned.
Take care and have that wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🏆trophy
Archaic Slab
"Who is this guy?"
"You have to read his journal to find out."
Monday, May 11, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Another sunrise, another journal entry from you favorite undead poet.
How are we doing with all this Ghos+ business anyway? You've read me for awhile. How's our relationship?
Your off in deep daydream good friend always available for words of encouragement. O/
To recap: Words are for more than just information; they're ambassadors of expression.
During this time of Artificial Intelligence's infancy, I thought a reminder of the true power of words was in order.
"Who is this guy?"
-Interested Wonder Fell Reader
"You have to read his journal to find out."
-Longtime Favorite Ghos+ Reader
With most of my adult life spent fighting illness into remission and/or recovering from literal death and learning to walk again; there's not been much time or energy left over to focus on worldly success.
Instead of complaining how unfair life can be, I decided to leverage it to help us all come to a better understanding of AI's place in the human story, to remind us the true power of words.
With four decades of life, a lifelong love of writing, and even a degree in Literature, I know putting a poem like The 51st State, or For You, or even Simple in front of the right audience gets a major response.
Self-awareness and not vanity is why I bring it up now.
Because +he Ghos+ Point is all about awareness of The Self.
We all love stories where a hero, or a small group of heroes, takes on an Empire for the sake of individual freedom.
Large Language Models are cautiously close to 'Empire' status.
AI can't think for you; it's a video game for helping organize thoughts that have already been had.
AI is software for dead thoughts.
There's nothing alive in them. Correct usage and not right living is their domain. Queue Darth and Luke lightsaber sound effects.
What's happening in The World of Media at present is an 'Empire of The Elite' are mass producing information to decide what's on your screen.
Not conspiracy theory, basic economic fact.
Life is an exercise in feeling. The better we feel the better the quality of our lives.
Words help us share and shape feelings.
The World, too, is a living thing. Every tree with a clear path to sunshine and regular helpings of rain gives the globe an ounce of joy.
The quality of our relationships define the quality of our lives.
I sit every morning in the same chair with the same pen and tablet and scribble lines.
Why are they so different each day? Where is the new relationship coming from?
The first rule to writing and life is to always be honest. We can't build on a foundation of lies.
But what is honest?
Using our best words to shape our best understanding of the feeling of life at a particular moment.
...
There's so much to say on this topic.
It's part of the message in Colore.
Over to prose.
Thanks for reading.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🤖robot_face
Archaic Slab
The Diary of +he Ghos+
You believe in magic now. You hold your copy close.
Wednesday, March 04, 2026
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
Nice to meet you. O/
And it is a meeting of sorts. Isn't it?
Every word wrote is a kind of message in a bottle sent from a desert island called your imagination.
Glad you found my message floating in the sea of binary blips called The Internet.
There's magic in these words; there's wonder. Put them to good use.
Share them with all the stuck-in-a-rut good people in your life.
That is how I'd like you to view Wonder Fell:
Out sailing alone on The Internet Sea, you discovered an uninhabited island. There's only lush tropical vegetation and a table by the shore with a book on it.
Take the book back to your boat. Dust the beach sand off the cover.
What's it called?
Wonder Fell: The Diary of +he Ghos+.
Every morning +he Ghos+ gets corporeal real enough to pick-up a pen and write his thoughts for that sunrise.
He's done it hundreds of times. The effort is in your hands.
You read some for hours. You fill with wonder. Your life means more to you now than it did before you found the words.
Being a good person you go back to return the book to the table, only to find another exact copy of the journal, beach sand dusty cover and all, has taken its place.
You believe in magic now. You hold your copy close. Glad to have it for yourself, you return to your boat and sail home with words of magic and wonder for company.
Thanks for reading, there's a whole lot more, take care, and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 👻ghost
Archaic Slab
Dear Diary Became Hello World
I thought it might do us all some good to read some writing from a guy who does it solely because he loves to.
Sunday, May 10, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
At some point the journal became conversational: "Dear Diary" became "Hello, World."
With so much text thrown at us everyday, for money, for power, for a feeling of self-importance; I thought it might do us all some good to read some writing from a guy who does it solely because he loves to.
What's to gain for me writing Wonder Fell? Time spent doing something I love.
The best way to spend time.
Been going through older posts, cleaning them up some, getting ready for more company (readers).
I was tagging posts whenever a concept was mentioned. Now (as soon as I finish cleaning) tags are only used when the majority of the post discusses the theme.
Some entries are just listy small talk thoughts first thing in the morning. Any interested (and brave) souls will find those by searching the chronological tags.
...
Yesterday's steady gentle rain left a rich warm color palette on the Earth.
Hues made for growing arrived with today's sunrise.
A good day to begin something new.
Cleaning up tags and working on Colore for me.
As always, thanks for reading.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: ✏️pencil2
Archaic Slab
It Wasn't Always Like This
I don't write often on my life before remission.
Friday, September 12, 2025
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
It wasn't always like this.
There was pain for so long I changed its name to normal.
There was medicine and there were side effects and there was exhaustion.
I don't write often on my life before remission.
Imagine living everyday with the worst flu you've ever had. Sometimes different symptoms flair-up. You want to live so you fight it. Sometimes little to no symptoms show, but there was always the exhaustion from the struggle.
Asking me for a biography of most of my adult life is like asking you what you've been doing all week when you spent the whole week healing from the flu.
I see now just because there's not a lot to say about my life doesn't mean there's not a lot to be said for it.
Sure, this Wonder Fell business is necessary medicine for a world that's forgot wonder, but there's more to it for me.
"Why keep going? Why show up everyday to share?"
-Favorite Reader
Because for so long I couldn't. And every morning, while I sit in the sunrise with my pen in hand, write today's date and Good morning, I remember I won.
A life worth the investment of love.
Thank you for reading. The words of Wonder Fell are meant to inspire and lift, encourage and direct.
Like Virgil in Dante's Inferno, I've been through Hell, let me show you some ways out.
Science sustained me. Miracle cured me.
Faith and the refusal to give up on my dreams made and make every word here possible.
I found opportunity where most would see despair.
After I healed I had so much to say and offer the world, but I also had a lifetime behind me with little to no time or energy to make Facebook memories or Instagram stories.
"People will think I'm a ghost."
-Wynn Right Before He Had The Great Idea
Boo. O/
Post remission it took a couple of years to recover from all the side-effects of the many medications I required to keep myself alive all those years.
Once those cleared up, about a week before I planned to start contacting agencies regarding my poetry, an SUV travelling 50+ mph crossed a double yellow and drove into my driver's seat and into my lap.
I woke up 3 days later in an ICU with my left leg split in two, a whole score of internal injuries, and a hospital staff waiting for me to remain conscious enough to attach a metal rod from my knee to my ankle to keep my leg together.
Other than a few scars the damage to my leg is now barely noticeable.
I've spent the few years since working on Wonder Fell and a couple other pieces to share with you.
My health is excellent, miraculously so, for years now.
Perhaps it's vanity, perhaps it's like I write about how bringing our dreams to life works like stories do, that all the Hell thrown at me my whole life was what I needed to overcome to get my words to you.
Maybe they can mean that much.
I look at the news every morning and almost all of it is an exercise in slinging hate. I think of the billions of dollars made everyday by people writing all that, and I think about my words full of hope, encouragement, love, spirit, and the power of dreams being so easy to read and so enjoyable and I think...
If I make news about what's best about us profitable it will make a lot of hatemongers lose a lot of paychecks and help heal a very sick world.
Healing a very sick world is something I have a lifetime's worth of experience with.
Take care, be thankful for something, and make wonderful this wonderful day.
+he Ghos+
If you're interested, there's more posts about me here:
It's Time to Move On
Even Thoreau packed up Walden and rejoined the human race.
Saturday, May 09, 2026
Good Morning, Twfw. O/
With a chorus of songbirds, while a choreography of squirrels race on fence tops to gather and eat... words for the morning.
What more to say? Hundreds of consecutive posts for the dawn now on Wonder Fell, an experiment in poetry.
What wants writing I'm always true to. This morning wants to write: It's time to move on.
Even Thoreau packed up Walden and rejoined the human race.
Some considerations on what to do with Wonder Fell today.
A poet's daily morning thoughts as The Sun rises on a newly born AI world is at least interesting if not, humbly, heroic.
But there are other works that want sharing; there's only so much sunlight to each day.
Perhaps one point of Wonder Fell is to remind the World of Writing that Artificial Intelligence can't actually write.
Yes, Wonder Fell's entries bounce around from day to day, line to line, which is not a computer-ly correct way to go about relaying a message. But these entries still express what is right, though a machine could never reproduce them.
There's something to be said for Idiosyncratic Spontaneity. Wonder Fell represents, in writing, a living soul's voice every sunrise.
This morning's sun wants to work on more traditional writing to share.
Wonder Fell will always be a place for whatever I'm writing. Because, if I do my job right, the words found here are always worth wondering about.
Thanks for reading.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 📚books
Archaic Slab
Art Unlocks Doors
Art unlocks doors; Entertainment starts a party.
Friday, May 08, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
A cool, crisp, clear sky, colorful dawn. Birds sing from tree branches and fencepost tops like city street neighbors sit on stair stoops and call out to one another the news of the day.
Generosity: It's where Art comes from.
The difference between Art and Entertainment is in the intention of the creator.
"Look at what I can do!"
-Entertainer
"Look at this!"
-Artist
Our reasons for sharing go into the work.
Regardless of how precise the technique, how correct the craft, if the intent of the crafter isn't to share a new or helpful view of the world with the world, it's a circus act.
If someone paints as well as Picasso and never uses that skill to share something unique about themselves with the world, they're nothing more than carnival entertainers... enjoyable diversions.
Entertainment has its time and place, but it is not Art.
Art unlocks doors; Entertainment starts a party.
All great Art has an element of joy in it. We love the possibility of growth.
View a painting, read a story or poem, hear a song and think, "Well I never imagined Life like that before," and you know the experience of Art.
Entertainment mocks; Art shares.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 👋wave
Archaic Slab
A Worthwhile Project
The originality of individual experience in letters may be the most important topic for humanity to discuss right now.
Thursday, May 07, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Poet? In the ancient sense of the word.
When your sink is clogged you call a plumber, when words aren't meaning enough anymore... Enter The Poets.
Writing and Speech are about more than getting someone's attention. We sing and share music not so someone will hear us, but so someone will feel and experience something.
It's the same with language.
Words are not for Sensationalism's sake, not advertisements, but ambassadors.
Language delivers a message from one foreign body (you) to another (someone else).
The substance of our character goes into every utterance and text shared.
The major concern with having AI craft any correspondence for us is that we're not in the words shared.
Or, better said: Only our feeling that the receiver of our message isn't worth more consideration than a computer's automated reply.
Wonder Fell Readers! You're worth more to me than rehashed coded algorithmic regurgitations.
"How sweet of you, Wynn."
-Favorite Wonder Fell Reader
"You know it."
-Favorite (and Only) Wonder Fell Author
...
The past couple mornings a new question is present: "What's Wonder Fell worth?"
The thought that perhaps starting right into other work, like Colore, might be more beneficial.
Certainly Colore is a worthwhile project and a more 'enjoyable' read, but this journal has its own significance.
The originality of individual experience in letters may be the most important topic for humanity to discuss right now.
So every morning here's a snapshot of a few hundred words from your friendly Nation-hood Ghost Poet to champion an individual's freedom of (and to) Speech.
The same way painters couldn't paint like Da Vinci, and musicians couldn't make music like Bach, if they didn't first: Our language is always an individual's artistic creation.
We must always make it new so it can grow, so we always have new ways to witness and share Life living alive.
So, I'll continue to check-in every morning with some words to wonder about in this poet's morning journal's cry in an Internet dark.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🕙clock_10
Archaic Slab
