2026.05
Refuge
More than a poet's morning journal, a refuge for an Artist.
Friday, May 15, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Glad you're back.
"Ditto."
-Favorite Reader
On with our show...
...
Been cleaning up Wonder Fell the past couple of days, making it more thematic, making the tags more indicative of the feel of each entry.
There's a lot of words here: Wall of Text meet Wall of Sunrise.
Welcome to Wonder Fell.
More than a poet's morning journal, a refuge for an Artist.
Those interested in how creative minds think and live will also find interest and, perhaps, help here.
"I'll make a safe place online for Artists of all endeavors not to feel so alone," was not my initial pursuit. But when opportunity arrives it's always best to unlock and open the door.
If you'd rather be writing, making music, painting, or in any act of Art, but you find yourself in daydreams well...
Should those whims lead to your phone or laptop screen, instead of feeding on a social media doomscroll, go on a Wonder Fell patrol.
You're not alone, Artists. You're the hope of this New World.
Our conditions are rarely ever ideal; the drama of the world wants so much.
The theater of humanity always wants another act. People require stories to sustain them. Take a breath, a time-out.
Remember every song, painting, creative work is a story shared. Get in the eye of the storm and get making.
The World as we know it cannot last with our current supply of Art.
It's vain; it's flashy; it puts spectacle before peace of mind.
We've been treating words and art like flashes on computer screens and not our greatest means of self-expression and survival for decades now.
The current state of affairs is our reaping. The Internet World is a Tower of Babel where everyone communicates with large neon billboards.
Think of Wonder Fell as a hidden room at the top of the Tower with a great view and a library's mandatory code of silence.
The Internet is a wonderful tool, but our words are more than fireworks; they're obligatory. We're monkeys that count really well without Art.
Check our current news cycle for proof of the necessity of your Art.
Then grab your compassion and generosity and get making.
Thanks for taking the time to bring your dreams to my words to bring them new life.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 📜scroll
Archaic Slab
Music for the Eyes
Variety in color is as much a necessity to The Earth as variety in music.
Thursday, May 14, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Light clouds, light rain, light for breakfast, a sunrise in Spring.
Hope all's well dear readers.
On with our show...
...
A clock ticks, a dog dreams, a clock tocks, a robin sings, rooftop chimneys are a rustic red from the rain.
The color palette changes with the cloud cover and the time of day.
Have you noticed?
The whole world is a symphony of color.
The harmonic hues of Nature show Life is more than scientific. Mother Earth is an artist, too.
Just as in music certain notes produce certain effects, so too colors coincide to make chords.
It's disgustingly difficult to discuss color still in my Country without politics rearing its ugly ignorant voice.
So instead of an essay, I work on an Epic to remind us the beauty in Nature's visual song.
A dozen African Violets grow in the same pot by the window where I write these morning entries. And though each flower is violet, not a single one is the exact same shade.
Like you and I.
If every songbird, house dog, cat, or human, were all the same color; there'd be nothing worth sharing, no variety, no stories, no interactions other than duty, no way to grow.
Nothing new, so no way to grow.
Same leads to the same; variety means the hope for something better.
If every songbird and human looked the same and sang the same song, I'd stay in bed. The Sun would have no reason to rise other than more of the same.
Variety in color is as much a necessity to The Earth as variety in music.
Color is music for the eyes.
Back to The Epic.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🌼blossom
Archaic Slab
Themes to Our Dreams
Nature? Nurture? Or something else?
Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
An overcast grey horizon gives way to a thin white bedsheet sky. A full-bodied blue jay lands to rest on a porch rail while a busy swallow gathers supplies to make some additions to the nursery in their nest.
It's an exercise in identity, a remembrance of what words are actually for as AI gets comfortable in our lives.
Just a poet sitting at sunrise writing his whims to the world.
Poetry differs from prose in that a poet focuses also on the shape and sound of the work to best convey their message.
To show the scientifically minded the point, the best 'poetic form' to showcase what the written word is actually for is a personal journal in a controlled environment.
Every morning at sunrise a calm, cool, and collected established poet sits and writes, using the same materials, whatever happens to come to mind.
After nearly two years every single morning, it's time for some conclusions.
Where to look?
I went to the tags.
Certain themes arrive on certain mornings.
I've spent the past few days reviewing and cleaning them up. The focus is theme.
The tag Beauty, for instance. Anytime I mentioned the word 'beauty' I'd label the entry as such.
After this cleaning process is done only entries that specifically deal with the topic 'Beauty' will keep the tag.
The question that rises is: Why these themes? Nature? Nurture? Or something else?
What is it about this Living Large Language Model Poet that wants to write on these themes every morning?
What prompts does the sunrise feed me to cause each similar response?
Though most of us don't sit and write our off-hand thoughts at the same time everyday, I know the same experience is true for you.
We all have themes to our dreams looking for a voice. What's up with that? Nature? Nurture? Or something else?
I'll focus my hypothesis some more and set it in the journal with some conclusions.
Thanks for reading.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: *️⃣keycap_star
Archaic Slab
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
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'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
