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S. J. Wynn
Poet. Poet. Poet.

For autumn

Photo by Luke Porter on Unsplash

Nothing Gold stays and everything Green goes with it.

Dusk Orange paints the silhouette yawn
Of a Great Blue Heron atop a rock the drought announced.

Sailboats float the Indigo under a Great Orange Blue sky,
Slide the serene by the Great Grey Bluebird.

Autumn wears an Every-Color shawl starved for Green- envious of Blue.
She fires Orange at the sky, the heron, the slow Blue bottomed boats.

But Indigo eats even Autumn- though she spends her fire fast.
Nights come quick now. Nothing lasts faster now.

But what good are words if the world…

Pixel poets: This is for You.

Pixel poets,
The well will never go dry.
The pen will -break- for sure,
But the well; we’ll never go dry.
Image Credit: Starglade

Keep it going

This is for You.
I wrote this for You.
For You, for You, for You
This is all for You,
You for all, in all ways

Hope under The Ancient Skyscraper

Photo by Kevin Grieve on Unsplash

Some words of caution…

This story is very serious.

This is a story about a girl named Hope.

This is not a story for children.

This is a story about Dragons.

This is not a fantasy for children.

This is a story to help us remember the Magic

We dreamt of as children while at school,

So we can stop shooting our own, in theirs.

The Book of Hope

“There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.”


Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Here’s that verse of penned metrics

S. J. Wynn

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