Poetry
To Celebrate and Remind You
Why joy travels to The Moon with every astronaut is my work's focus.
Saturday, May 16, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Somewhere, sometimes, at sunrise peace falls like gentle rain to feed the flourish of Spring.
This morning the loud song of the robin, the soft sunlight through easy-going intermittent clouds prepares the day for growing.
Dawn, you, and I have been talking for years now, sharing poetic first thing in the morning thoughts under AI reality skies.
A sentence is worth more than what video games can do. There's Life alive in these syllables every morning. There's wonder in these lines.
Thanks for joining me for it.
There's something amazing and worthy of note in what living, breathing, heart still beating relationships can do that no amount of technology can ever replace.
It's my work, The Poet's, to celebrate and remind you of it.
Joy, Beauty, Wonder, and Love, what Art and Music are for; it's The Poet's work to champion these causes.
We celebrate Large Language Model video games, medical breakthroughs, trips to The Moon; but we do celebrate.
Why joy travels to The Moon with every astronaut is my work's focus.
Joy, Beauty, Wonder, and Love; we measure these things with the music called Art.
There's no reason to charter a spaceship, engage with an AI bot, get out of bed at all, without them.
Sometimes we need a reminder.
O/
Creating a safe place for all to have the opportunity to experience these four tenants is what having a home, a Country, a World is for.
As a race we've been so busy enjoying our empirical ways for centuries; we forgot we're enjoying them, forgot to factor in the joy with every equation solved.
We use language to express more than facts and figures.
The written word is also a kind of music sung with the voice great within of the author and played on the instrument of the voice great within of the reader.
Music is always best heard live; a sentence is always best read wrote by a living author.
Some living music to wonder about every morning on Wonder Fell.
Thanks for picking up your instrument, playing it, making it sing again.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🧐face_with_monocle
Archaic Slab
Is Rap Poetry?
Is water wet?
Writing is an interesting thing. I suppose all living is like it.
Rhythm.
It's all about rhythm.
The Earth plays her own music.
There's a certain ebb to everyday, a certain flow.
We dance to it, or we're stressed-out fools wondering why nothing is working out and everyone is laughing at us, or shaking their heads wondering what you're up to punk style dancing while the day is doing the waltz.
I write the rhythm, sometimes the rhyme.
It feels like free-form poetry.
Depending on the nature of the words, the content at times feels like open mic night free verse rap.
Yup.
I don't have the look,
But I have the lines.
Is Rap poetry?
Is water wet?
It's genre from a certain demographic.
That's the stuffy way to say the music genre formed from inner-city necessities, not an intellectual choice, the smart choice.
I don't stick to a genre; I write the day.
Wet Water
Do your dream immersed in the rhythm of that day.
Don't sway from your truth, from what you are and what your vision of what your heart says you are.
When it's raining get your raincoat...
🎤When you're in the deep inner-city and the poetry of the world comes calling, get your rap on, do your song, don't be afraid to Keats or Whitman, if they should come along. If you come across Maya's angel though...
...say hello, get a cup of coffee and enjoy the show, smog filled shade covered, skyscrapers got you covered, it's a hot day, the ice screams a good idea, for a rap lined scream for a line out of town, to some friends, to a way to say what you're all feeling in a way that's appealing, that feeling, kept so quiet, that cures the ill of a neighborhood gone still...
...fighting to find itself through all the fighting. Rhythms and city street open free verse rap dialogue on some everyday Wednesday in invisible Whitetime, good nighttime in the morning, might as well sleep, not a single creep around to mess with the sound of acceptability, just getting by the radar blips over the predictability, gives you time and space to say you saved the human race, if you weren't too humble...
...to mumble the lines.
🎤💧
~ Wynn ~
For All Our Health
Getting The United States to read poetry right now is like trying to get your stubborn Great Grandfather to take his medicine.
Wednesday, April 29, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
Poetic idiosyncratic words in the time of AI?
They're our only hope.
Each and every human being is a unique Large Language Model designed to express their witness of Life.
There's more to Life than facts; there's the creation of facts.
...
Modern dreams at sunrise while a woodpecker hammers an oak.
Even songbirds have a percussion section.
Slow morning words lately, thoughts of business, my work's place in the world, how best to serve it.
Where? And when?
Some self-awareness with humility always in mind: America hasn't had a poet like me for decades, hasn't had a male poet like me for nearly a century in our popular culture tapestry.
Getting The United States to read poetry right now is like trying to get your stubborn Great Grandfather to take his medicine.
Hey old timer. O/ We're a Nation built on Words. Maybe the language being thrown around is the reason for the collapse?
Here's some language for all our health.
...
Cloud cover makes for a subdued sunrise. A subtle dawn, the game's still on.
Thanks for reading, Dear Reader.
Your consideration means The World to me. I hope some inspiration finds you today. I hope more that you find the good sense to put it to good use and share it.
The World could use your wonderful witness shared.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: ⌛hourglass
Archaic Slab
For the Sake of Language
Having AI write or create pseudo-art for you is like being in a romance with Alexa the AI bot.
Wednesday, April 15, 2026
Good morning, Twfw. O/
It's a journal, a poet's. Every morning with pen in hand, I write with the sunrise to remind an AI obsessed humanity: There's more to our hearts than beats-per-minute.
Language is more than just what the meta is for;
Language is for metaphors!
Each person is a unique Large Language Model equipped to express this experience called Life.
It's the feeling part, the joy, the sorrow, the comfort, the love that Artificial Intelligence can never give witness of that makes it inferior.
Everything a poet's words do AI simply cannot.
I had to speak up in a big way for the sake of words.
So I decided to pick up the slack moon obsessed poets left and confess each sunrise for you... in a poetical kind of way.
So we remember what words are for.
...
Writing someone a Love Letter is the greatest use of the written word.
One's whole being goes into every syllable. Feelings, desires, passions, wants, hopes, and dreams of beautiful moments shared build every line.
If we make the ability to write a Love Letter the metric for successful writing, we can't even call what AI does writing.
Having AI write or create pseudo-art for you is like being in a romance with Alexa the AI bot.
Huh?
AI writing and AI pseudo-Art is romance with a robot.
It's purely one-sided, vain, and empty.
Writing is for human connection.
Even in business this is true.
Having AI do all your business writing means you don't value human connection, which means you don't value people, which means your business won't last very long.
But I was wondering about the sunrise with you before the modern world started playing video games with language creation.
Idyllic Spring blue sky morning after a rainy night.
Thanks for reading, take care, and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🪆nesting_dolls
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
Acronyms and Emoji
Acronyms and emoji make a Poetry of Efficiency.
Friday, April 03, 2026
Good morning, The Wonder Fell Way.
What about an acronym?
G.M.T.W.F.W?
"That's a lot of caps first thing in the morning, Wynn."
-A Favorite Reader
True.
How about:
Good morning, Twfw?
"Yes, that works. Don't forget the circle-slash insignia, though."
-Helpful Favorite Reader
Good point.
So from now on Wonder Fell posts start:
Good morning, Twfw. O/
A one of a kind way to start each day.
One of a kind... like us.
...
A bit of business out of the way, how's the day?
That is business, btw. Acronyms are in the realm of Poetry, as are emoji.
'Twfw O/' is a very poetical act of writing.
So is: lol brt otw.
And here you are thinking your texts were just quick and lazy.
Acronyms and emoji make a Poetry of Efficiency. Which is redundant, as Poetry is the epitome of efficiency of language by design.
...
The Pink Moon, the first full moon of Spring, ebbs away.
Calendars are records of cycles of time.
We gather around a campfire to tell stories the way we spin around The Sun to share our lives.
Sun's up. Drab Spring morning, the kind that's good for growing things.
Hope all's well, Dear Reader.
Enjoy Poetry; text some acronyms and emoji, and make a wonderful day.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🎤microphone
Archaic Slab
Music for Your Mind
Poetry is music for your mind with words and grammar for its only notes.
Thursday, April 02, 2026
Good morning, the Wonder Fell Way.
Spring rain, sunrise thoughts on the brain
Echo raindrop splashes on every window pane.
Rhyme is an easy example of what Poetry's power is all about.
There's lyricism, line length, and punctuation if you want to shout!
Or go soft...
The harmonies words make in a certain rhythm as you read is the focus of my craft.
Uplifting, motivating, worth wondering about, life affirming words to mirror the sunrise: What Wonder Fell is for...
And each sunrise.
See what poetic language is for yet?
Poetry is music for your mind with words and grammar for its only notes.
Is there a lyrical quality to these lines? Do they lull or lift? It's intentional, you know.
All the things a composer or pop musician has in mind when they write a song goes into the formation of every line a poet writes.
We write to communicate so much these days. But words do more than talk. They sing, too!
Making words sing using only the voice in your mind as you read is my Life's work and Love.
Eight notes make a major scale octave; I've got twenty-six letters and punctuation to make my music.
O/ Thanks for listening.
Words are our greatest gift and responsibility. We're monkeys without them. How you use your language and where, when, and why determines who you are.
It's crucial we remember: Our language is an extension of ourselves.
Who are you? Your words know. Consider them a mirror or selfie.
Take care and make a wonderful day already.
~ Wynn ~
Brought to you by the emoji of the day: 🦸superhero
Archaic Slab
