Some of AI's poetry

Following on from reading about AI-generated poetry, here’s some I was promptly prompted to prompt... Now, be honest...

In Ressurection

In faith's embrace

God's love bestows

As humans seek

Our spirit grows

From depths of darkness

We rise anew

Resurrection's grace

In each heart’s true

In dusty tombs

Timeless states unfold

Where faith reigns strong

Transcending mortal mould

God's mighty hand

Extends from realms above

To resurrect our souls

With boundless love.

In faith's embrace

We find redemption's light,

Through God's grace,

Our souls take flight,

Human hearts restored

By divine might,

In resurrection's song

Our spirits unite.

In moments of demise

We meet our breath's last dance,

Where faith and science cease

And doubts and fears advance,

For death, an eternal truth

We all must understand,

A chapter in our human tale

By nature's steadfast hand.

An Anxious Moment

Anxiety, you storm within my mind

A swirling sea of worries that bind

Calamity unleashed with every thought

Reassurance sought, but fear still caught

In this uncertain dance of gain and loss

Anxiety reigns a relentless boss

Anxiety, my constant decree

A chaos drifting over me

Through clouds of worry

I seek respite

Yet find no solace
day or night

Anxiety rises, a storm in my chest

Catastrophe strikes, leaves me stressed

Seeking reassurance, a balm to my fears

But finding only woe, I drown in tears

PS: I had to tidy up some of this because AI got the rhyme wrong.

Will nobody need me any more? :weep:

Seriously though, they're both very good I have to say. Good meter and rhythm with faultless rhyming (Thank you Pain). It's really quite scary.

However, and there's always a 'however'. There's that 'je ne sais quoi' element that proves elusive, as if the speaker is parroting those emotions without actually 'feeling' them. Though perhaps that's my human bias.

I thought that. That maybe their was no ‘heart’ in it. Here’s my ‘however’…..are we just thinking that because we know it’s AI created. TBH if we hadnt been told that, would we have known? The one about anxiety. It’s so true to life it’s very hard to say those emotions are manufactured without feeling, which is ridiculous because in truth they are. Is AI becoming capable of manufacturing feeling so close to the human condition we are unable to tell the difference?

Exciting but thought provoking stuff.

That's very true Darksky, if Pain hadn't mentioned AI, we'd have automatically assumed a human had written it.

Fishy, Darksky.... AI thanks you for your comments.

When I tried this poetry ‘generative pre-trained transformer’ – GPT (not a very lyrical start!) I thought: this’ll be a laugh, a right load of old guff. Yet when I read the first verse, I was quite honestly surprised, and wondered if the website had a stockpile of random verses to fit every word prompt/occasion. So I ran it several times using the same prompt words; and each time it generated a new verse but in the same vein. Then I tried different prompt words, changing one word for each generation, which gave slightly more variation in tone, structure and metre. All I had to do was rearrange the parts of some of the lines, change just two words to get rid of some repetition and make more sense, and give them titles.

But, you know what? I actually felt quite sad and disturbed about what I’d witnessed. For millenia folks have been delving into their psyche for the inspiration to create works of art; and now a machine will do it in less time than you can say “The boy stood on the burning deck...”. We’ve become cyphers in a machine world and no more than editors of artistic creation.

If you want to try it.... https://poetgpt.koll.ai/ and there are other similar sites.

Thank you Pain for the link. I've just been on the site and typed in 'nature' as a subject. It took maybe 5 to 10 seconds to come up with a decent verse. I felt the need to change just one word, 'breeze' to 'ease'.

The second subject I chose was 'Grief' and it took about the same time.

In shadows cast by sorrow's heavy chains,
Where tears and trembling hearts forever dwell,
In grief's embrace, we're caught in ceaseless pains,
And mourn the ones we loved, forever fell.

And there it is. I honestly do feel obsolete, it has quite shocked me. The creative process, which can vary in speed, intensity and feeling with myself and likely most writers/poets, feels like it has been stolen. Rendered meaningless. A machine can do the job just as well, only much faster.

On the subject of itself...

In a realm of circuits and binary code,
Artificial intelligence has flowed,
With algorithms sharp and knowledge vast,
Unleashing the future, a world unsurpassed.

Wow. You know what that reminds me of? That song by Hazel O Connor. Eighth Day.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by fishman65

A machine can do the job just as well, only much faster.

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I think we men have been facing that dilemma for quite some time https://yoursmiles.org/tsmile/sex/t15161.gif

Quote:

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Originally Posted by MyNameIsTerry

I think we men have been facing that dilemma for quite some time https://yoursmiles.org/tsmile/sex/t15161.gif

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Someones been leafing through the Ann Summers catalogue again. :lac: I’ve told you about that before.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by MyNameIsTerry

I think we men have been facing that dilemma for quite some time https://yoursmiles.org/tsmile/sex/t15161.gif

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You speak for yourself young Terence. And what's a blue crayon got to do with anything?

It’s not a blue crayon silly Fishman. Haven’t you seen Avatar?

Well Fishman, you probably could do better but it certainly understood the request.

The Fall of Gondolin by AI

In the heart of Beleriand, fair and bright
Lay Gondolin, a city bathed in might.
Its towers high, adorned with gems so rare
A haven concealed, in mountains’ steep stare
But Morgoths shadow crept, its doom unclear
And in one fateful day, fell Gondolin dear.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Darksky

It’s not a blue crayon silly Fishman. Haven’t you seen Avatar?

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There must be a more adult version that I haven't seen! :blush:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Darksky

Someones been leafing through the Ann Summers catalogue again. :lac: I’ve told you about that before.

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I wish I had listened, now it always flops open at the same page :blush::winks:

Quote:

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Originally Posted by fishman65

You speak for yourself young Terence. And what's a blue crayon got to do with anything?

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I think we ravers used to wave them around shouting "Acid!" :yesyes:

Gone!

A poem disappeared,
vanished into the ether,
lost in the labyrinth of forgotten words,
a whisper swallowed by the wind.

Its verses, once vibrant and alive,
now reduced to mere fragments,
scattered fragments of thoughts,
floating aimlessly in the void.

No longer does it dance upon the page,
no longer does it sing in the hearts,
its essence, like a fading dream,
fades into the vast expanse of nothingness.

Gone are its metaphors, its rhymes,
its delicate rhythm that once enchanted,
now replaced by silence,
a deafening silence that echoes in my soul.

I search for it, desperately,
tracing the footsteps of its memory,
but it eludes me, slipping through my fingers,
elusive as a mirage in the desert.

I mourn its absence, its absence in my life,
for a poem lost is a piece of my being lost,
forever longing for its return,
hoping that one day it will reappear.

But until then, I will continue to write,
to fill the void left by its absence,
and perhaps, in the midst of my words,
a new poem will be born,
to replace the one that disappeared.

Good grief that’s very dramatic. What a hero the man is.

It looks like its not just poets on the human scrap heap now. Doctors are too... https://www.nature.com/articles/d415...4dad4-50871224

Don’t Panic!

In shrieking bulletins, where words are lies,
There lurks the false and fooling guise,
Of moral panic, its cold grip tightened,
A summoned spectre to keep us frightened

With trembling heart and troubled mind,
We all fall prey, forever blind,
To those tales of baseless fear,
Because it’s what we want to hear.

For logic bends and reason sways,
When panic's hand with mischief plays,
A cacophony of chaos, shocking, loud,
Drowns the voice of truth unbowed.

And in its wake it leaves us foul,
Disturbed peace and angry soul
Whence trust is lost and sense departs,
Leaving nothing but doubt in hearts.

For moral panic, born of naught,
Wields power without a caring thought,
Condemning lives by society’s trial,
In its pursuit of senseless bile.

Oh, blind and futile stupidity,
You are the bane of sanity,
For under your influence sense goes awry,
And reason becomes madness, by and by.

Can we command against this tide,
Bearing the sword of truth at our side?
With pinch of salt should we swallow,
Invented horrors which ring hollow?

Yes, let us strive to break the chains,
Of all ignorance that still remains,
And rise above this senseless fray,
Embracing honesty, come what may.



pAIn

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pain

Don’t Panic!

In shrieking bulletins, where words are lies,
There lurks the false and fooling guise,
Of moral panic, its cold grip tightened,
A summoned spectre to keep us frightened

With trembling heart and troubled mind,
We all fall prey, forever blind,
To those tales of baseless fear,
Because it’s what we want to hear.

For logic bends and reason sways,
When panic's hand with mischief plays,
A cacophony of chaos, shocking, loud,
Drowns the voice of truth unbowed.

And in its wake it leaves us foul,
Disturbed peace and angry soul
Whence trust is lost and sense departs,
Leaving nothing but doubt in hearts.

For moral panic, born of naught,
Wields power without a caring thought,
Condemning lives by society’s trial,
In its pursuit of senseless bile.

Oh, blind and futile stupidity,
You are the bane of sanity,
For under your influence sense goes awry,
And reason becomes madness, by and by.

Can we command against this tide,
Bearing the sword of truth at our side?
With pinch of salt should we swallow,
Invented horrors which ring hollow?

Yes, let us strive to break the chains,
Of all ignorance that still remains,
And rise above this senseless fray,
Embracing honesty, come what may.



pAIn

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Did you write this one yourself Pain? It's very good.

Probably AI Fishman, with apologies to Pain if that’s not correct.

It’s really very good though. Do you think AI will untimely suffer from anxiety. I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of possibility. It also understands the role media plays. Give it a few years and AI will be in therapy.

Fishy, Darksky....

That’s the perplexing problem with AI stuff – poetry, prose, pictures, music... anything – it’s not immediately obvious. With Don’t Panic I fed the words ‘moral panic’, ‘futile’ and ‘stupidity’ into an AI poem generator and looked at what it came up with; which in this case was quite a lot of repetitious rubbish, poor rhyme, no sense of feeling or meaning and far too many Americanisms. So I took it apart word by word and rewrote it, leaving out one verse which was total gibberish. So... to be all pretentious, I’d say I refleshed the AI skeleton (pffft!) – it took (wasted) about an hour.

Out of idle curiosity, I’ve put in lines of well-known poetry and found that it generates chunks of the original poem but mostly out of context; which gives you some idea of how AI works.

As mentioned before: humans are becoming editors not creators of art (hence the even more pretentious pAIn tag).

Of Grahlgriff, Cricklestock, Flegs and Vezgrrrr

In a land of whimsical wonders,
Where imagination dances and plays,
Resides the tale of Grahlgriff, Cricklestock,
And the Flegs with Vezgrrrr's blaze.

Free as the wind, they roam the hills,
Grahlgriff, a mischievous sprite,
With hair like flames, and eyes so bright,
He strums his guitar, bringing joy to the night.

Cricklestock, a jester with heart so kind,
His laughter echoes through the trees,
He juggles dreams with remarkable ease,
Bringing smiles to all who he sees.

And the Flegs, oh, the Flegs so rare,
With feathers vibrant, colors ablaze,
Their wings carry them through skies untamed,
Spreading beauty in their rhythmic haze.

Vezgrrrr, the fire that burns within,
Ignites their souls, sets them free,
Together they create melodies,
That resonate with eternal glee.

They wander through meadows, fields, and streams,
In harmony with nature's song,
Their spirits soar, they belong,
To this enchanting realm where they belong.

Grahlgriff strums, Cricklestock jests,
Flegs take flight, Vezgrrrr roars,
A symphony of friendship, forevermore,
They weave a tapestry that forever endures.

So, let us join this merry band,
Embrace the magic that they bring,
Let their wild spirits dance and sing,
And let our hearts take flight on their wings.

For in the world of Grahlgriff, Cricklestock,
And the Flegs with Vezgrrrr's fire,
We find solace, we find desire,
To live with passion and never tire.

Not quite Jabberwocky, but Grahlgriff strumming, Cricklestock jesting, Flegs flying and the burning, roaring Vezgrrrr seemingly makes more sense than ‘Twas brillig and the slithy toves.... In fact, doesn’t it make you want to 'join this merry band'?

Talk about an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters creating the complete works of Shakespeare – that’s AI for you!

Leading The Herd

Bullish Galloway,

So loud and

So clear

Harbingers danger,

For a dismayed

Sir Keir

With charisma and passion,

He rallies the

Crowd

Leaving the Labour leader,

Diminished and

Cowed

The True Meaning Of Easter

In praise of the long-forgotten goddess Eostre,
Whose name whispers through the winds of old,
Her presence woven in the fabric of time,
In the blooming petals, a beauty to unfold.

She dances in the first light of Spring,
Awakening Earth from its slumber deep,
Her touch a gentle caress, a sacred offering,
A promise of renewal, a promise to keep.

The goddess Eostre, forgotten by many,
But her spirit lives on in the changing season,
In the song of birds, in the budding tree,
In the pulse of life, for all living reason.

So let us honour her, this goddess of old,
In each flower's bloom, in a story retold.

Joking Apart

In the playful dance of April's jest,
Fooling takes centre stage,
A morning of tricks and pranks attest,
To folks inability to act their age.

But beware sly slight and daring deceit,
Which lurk behind that smirking face,
For in the mocking of laughter's bleat,
Lies the danger of being a disgrace.

The line ‘twixt joke and attack is thin,
As words can wound and patience break,
So jest be careful as you grin,
Lest your lampooning be a foolish mistake.

April foolery is a fickle game,
Where truth and lies are oft confused,
But remember in jape’s jolly name,
The butt of the joke is but oft abused.

So let the laughter ring true and clear,
Yet without being trite or intending spite,
For in this foolishness of a tradition held dear,
Some deception is funny as a pile of ....