Wynn
The Forward March of Spring
An odd thing to be alive and not talk about it more.
Tuesday, April 14, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Pinks and blues paint the newborn nursery colored ceiling called the Spring sky.
A color changing kaleidoscopic stained glass dome covers The Earth at dawn.
Clouds like long wispy billows of the smoke water makes...
Steam, rise, and join the chromatic sunshine show.
An early flight airline rumbles overhead.
The Interstate wooshes to life with traffic.
An odd thing to be alive and not talk about it more.
Everyday activities are miracles when your eyes are adjusted for wonder.
What a world,
What a gift!
Life alive and the opportunity to share it.
There's nothing in the way of living a wonderful life but being in the way of it.
Why choose trouble when there's so much opportunity for joy, for peace, for whatever love and satisfaction from a day of honest work is all about?
...
Bird songs play a different tune every morning. Did you know?
The World has her own set list for the day's show. Everyday.
Today is the forward march of Spring.
The chickadees and sparrows, cardinals and crows, sing out, 'Hey baby let's start a family and get makin' babies' hip-hop anthems.
Everyday is a song. Sunrise lifts the baton to start the band called Color. Sunset closes the curtain and takes a bow.
What music do you add to the show?
Words of witness and wonder here.
Take care and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🎁gift
Archaic Slab
Regarding AI, Then Art
Science is making Scientists obsolete.
Monday, April 13, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
A so much to say morning...
The kind that leads so many writers and artists to what's called: A Block.
Creative standstills aren't caused by a lack, but by an abundance. There's simply just so much to be inspired by, how to choose?
But the point isn't the topic; it's the act of creation.
You're a writer not a 'topic picker.' Just write. Get writing.
Good sentences will come, but only by writing.
Great sentences will come, but only by writing more.
Onto more.
...
There's a pull often to write regarding AI. A curious subject for a poet... perhaps not.
There's already a good amount on the site regarding AI.
I never use it for my work, nor could I. Using AI is playing a video game, not writing... certainly not painting or making music either.
Art requires a human being; it's non-negotiable.
But artists of all varieties know this.
My creative friends, we must be ready.
Science is making Scientists obsolete. AI simply does a better job at Science than Scientists are able to do. Our nerd friends will all need a hug and new sense of purpose in a generation or two.
It's the relationships with what lives that makes life worth living.
Sorry... a robot husband or wife can never bring happiness or love regardless how well-designed.
Life-like is not Life.
Consider the difference between a spouse and an exact robot AI replica.
What's lacking from the droid is what Life is all about...
Welcome to what Art is all about.
Take care and make that wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🐣hatching_chick
Archaic Slab
The Shadows and Sounds of Sunrise in Spring
The seasons are a banquet of starlight.
Sunday, April 12, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Peace.
The shadows and sounds of sunrise in Spring.
The seasons are a banquet of starlight.
Spring brings the appetizer to get things started. Summer is the feast. Autumn is a colorful dessert. Winter sips hot coffee and tea to ease digestion.
Our habits and ways mirror The World's.
They have to.
When we care for the Earth, she cares for us. Plant a seed to know this easy truth. The more care given to each planted seed the better we eat and the better the view.
Sometimes the morning just wants to watch the morning.
Like this morning.
So many songbirds sound Spring this morning. Different sizes, sounds, and shapes of songs.
Colors... the Blue Jay, the Red Cardinal, the Yellow Goldfinch, the Orange Bellied Robin, the speckled spectacular calls from a Carolina Wren.
And the evergreens... a chromatic testament for an eternal Spring.
During more melancholic times I wrote them a poem.
Here it is if you're interested: The Firs.
"Melancholy? From Mr. Wonder Fell Sunshine?"
- Favorite Reader
"Even The Earth knows Winter."
-Mr. Wonder Fell Sunshine
Take care and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🗺️world_map
Archaic Slab
Our Arias of Experience
The professional pianist is as much an instrument for music as the piano she plays.
Saturday, April 11, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Welcome back.
Hundreds of sunrises in a row and what to show?
Sunlight like river water is never the same fire twice. Our galaxy's star always makes us new.
Fire and water share a bond in how they go about their business. Always new, always agents of change to remain the same.
Together they make the weather to make The World.
There's nothing out of the ordinary about a writer keeping a daily journal. In fact, I know it's necessary for writers of any craft if they want to be successful.
If you're a professional pianist and you miss a day of playing, your music and method both suffer the neglect.
It's the same with all acts of creation. Every Art form requires commitment.
The professional pianist is as much an instrument for music as the piano she plays.
...
Color is music for the eyes. Painters and visual artists compose songs with lines of their own.
Writers have words for notes, paragraphs for sonatas.
There's a certain song that happens within all of us. Walt called it: The Song of Ourselves.
It's the music poets write about.
Not a symphony of notes for the ear or a choreography of colors for the eyes, but the sound and hue of music and color within us.
We don't see or hear with our eyes or ears this song great within; we know it through words. We filter and express it to ourselves with language.
Just like we all can hum a tune, we all use language in a poetical fashion to express our inward song.
A concert Diva is going to hum the same song a little differently than most of us.
A poet sings their song great within with the same passion and skill a Diva takes to an aria.
Our Arias of Experience, mundanely known as the voice in your head while you make decisions, is transcribed by poets throughout the centuries.
There's some here if you're interested.
More, specifically here.
Soon, as AI makes more of the reasons we thought made us necessary obsolete, we're going to wonder what life is all about.
I present Wonder Fell as a starting point towards a way of considering what it means to be human in an AI friendly world.
Turns out being alive is all about the expression of our arias of experience.
Or more plainly put: Life is the process of making Art.
Choose an instrument with the instrument called yourself and play.
Keyboards and pens for me.
Thanks for reading, enjoy yourself, and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 💥boom
Archaic Slab
I'm Bringing Beauty Back
... removing it from the cosmetic aisles of pharmacies and placing it back in divine hands where it belongs.
Friday, April 10, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Words from the dark as the light comes back.
The quantity of the number of headlights on the highway might as well be a time and date calendar.
Sunrise still about an hour away. I wonder what arrangements of color it will bring. Always new. Always majestic. Always beautiful. The Sunrise.
I'm bringing Beauty back... removing it from the cosmetic aisles of pharmacies and placing it back in divine hands where it belongs.
A reimagined and resurrected understanding of the concept of Beauty is the cure for all our concerns regarding AI.
Many morning entries turn to words on Beauty. A poet's cup of tea, a poet's business.
So much poetry these days focuses on adjusting one's cultural heritage and gender to fit a changing world narrative to help change the narrative.
I applaud a poetry of politics, but it forgets itself.
Politics falls under the umbrella of Poetry; it's a genre.
Poets, we don't give ourselves enough credit. Words make cultures, and governments, and all of Science itself possible. And here we are the champions of language quietly, humbly, reclusively, taking very little pride in our craft and power.
Words shape our human world. Poets are masters of the craft. Where are we? Why so silent?
In this Nation built on words, where are the best of us at making and understanding what words mean and are for?
There's so much to say on this topic left unsaid for too long. More than what morning reflections in a journal can do justice for.
It's a central theme to Colore.
I go back to building it now.
As always, thanks for reading.
The sky's an ideal blue for a picture perfect day; the clouds are only there to dream about what shapes they're making.
Take care and have that wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 📈 chart_with_upwards_trend
Archaic Slab
What We Invest In Together
Stories work the same way as The Stock Market.
Thursday, April 09, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Dawn. Always something new by design.
Songbirds know and sing the novelty.
Thought I'd join in.
Thanks for reading.
Warm shades of color glow to show the horizon. Winter's gone; it's in the palette of sunshine.
The World is a celestial color making spherical factory.
Did you know no two shades of human skin are exactly the same?
Now you know.
So what's all the fuss about?
Stories and not skin are the cause of the human blight called racism.
No two human beings are ever exactly the same. Every Scientist agrees.
Stories and not money, politics, or science, make civilizations go round.
Our economics, governments, and fields of study are all based on what we value.
Value, for humanity, comes from the stories we share.
It's why The News is responsible for so much of the disorder today.
There's plenty of good happening in The World. People just aren't getting paid to share it.
We tell each other we value Hell more than Paradise with every dollar spent on, and second invested in listening to, bad news.
What we feed grows. We dump dollars and time into Hellish broadcasts and we get and grow Hell.
If you're tired, fed-up, disgusted with the state of the modern media message, the best way to change it is not to complain. It is to shut it off and share some good news.
Blame keeps it going.
Reporters need ratings to get paid. When The World devours stories of hope and heroism more than the Hell it consumes at present, we'll have peace and evolution.
It's not that we should ignore tragedy, just that we have to stop paying for it or we're going to keep paying for it.
We understand in our economics what we invest in together grows. Stories work the same way as The Stock Market.
Right now we're a Nation too well-invested in a Hellish political narrative.
Time is your money; invest it somewhere helpful.
Change the channel, share some good news, and have that wonderful day (and tell someone you did).
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🤦face_palm
Archaic Slab
A Choreography of Color
Sometimes the best thing to do for your Art is to daydream.
Wednesday, April 08, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
The light arrives sooner and stays later. Green replaces brown all over town.
Blue grabs enough yellow for a dance partner and goes to work on a choreography called Spring.
Soon the floor and foliage turn green to make a welcoming space for the other colors in a number called Summer.
The World is a choreography of color.
Wonder Fell. This Epic Letter Poem to a World on Fire marches on.
Words from a concerned friend. Not just any friend, someone whose been through Hell and won, sends these lines every morning.
Today wants something new.
I was going to write about the power of words: The super-position of language. How the only characters to know their way out of Hell are poets. Take Dante and Virgil for examples.
But if you enjoy reading Wonder Fell you know that already. Change your words to change your Life.
Something new, though... something new wants said.
Do we sit and let it come writers, or fling tirades at the page?
Sometimes the best thing to do for your Art is to daydream.
A tough truth to digest in a world obsessed with duty disguised as get-it-done checklists.
Artists, if I can share some medicine with you it's this: Being idle, for an Artist of any craft, is not being unproductive: It's part of the work.
It's not depression if your quiet time feeds your work: It's part of your work.
Artists, musicians, writers in this modern world... chill out! You're not in a slump, depressed, or being anti-social: You're working.
So long as sometime everyday you commit to creating something your time spent in daydreams is time invested in your work.
Daydreams are the fuel for the fire called an Artist.
Don't be ashamed, shut-down, or depressed. Call it work. Make sure you create something everyday and call your daydreams work.
Because they are; every job requires supplies.
Off to restock my own with a dream with the sunrise.
Thanks for reading, dream on purpose, create something, and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🌞sun_with_face
Archaic Slab
Humanity Wake Up!
I'm glad for astronauts in space for more than Scientific reasons.
Tuesday, April 07, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Wonder for breakfast, pictures from The Moon.
At times, do you find it amazing that as far as humanity has come with thoughts and Science, we still have no comfortable way to communicate what dreams are for?
Our hearts beat; we breathe; we all sleep to dream.
What's up with that?
It's not a deep thought. It's basic living.
Life is the process of making dreams real.
That's it.
So I'm glad for astronauts in space for more than Scientific reasons.
Because there's a great team effort, a shared dream made come true, with every trip to The Moon.
But there are so many mysteries still left unsolved, so much to wonder about and find answers for in our everyday Earth-bound lives.
What's a dream for? What's up with Love? Why do stories work?
Basic life questions our words are still in the dark about.
It still sounds odd or alien to discuss dreaming practically. Our lack of focus on something we all have to do to call ourselves alive is worth our notice.
Our physical bodies could lay still and stare at the ceiling or sky for eight hours without sleeping and get the same benefits according to medical science. So how come they can't? Why is sleep obligatory?
Here's a new way of thinking about it:
Whatever Life is, whatever keeps our bodies breathing and hearts beating, we feed and fill ourselves with while we sleep. We call what we ingest dreams. Ancient cultures called it spirit.
Mention spirit to some Scientists and their eyes roll. But all I see when I look at a basic tenant of existence, something we all have to do to survive physically, is neglect from the World of Science.
If a doctor wasn't concerned about your breathing or heartbeat, we wouldn't call them a doctor for long.
Everyone has to dream to exist.
Humanity wake up!
Life is the process of making dreams real.
Take a trip to The Moon for an Epic example of this truth.
Sunrise. Thanks for reading. Dream on purpose and make some real... that's the way to make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🌨️snow_cloud
Archaic Slab
