Wonder Fell Itself
Thoughts on Wonder Fell itself...
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
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 ~
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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 ~
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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 ~
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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
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 ~
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Archaic Slab
