On the Birth of AI Poetry
On the Birth of AI Poetry
With reckoning, we must conclude
Our techno masters have pursued
The human brain to cast aside
As muse embraces its new bride
And so the columns that once fell
To keep us bound within their spell
Are churned out now, crisp and clean
By soulless, heartless cold machine
No use here, mill of the mind
No sweat to pen, or the grind
All achieved through lounge and laze
With ego gorging lauding praise
Is Shakespeare turning down below
At creators course death blow
Will Frost be wearing sour sorrow
What path now, would he follow?
Copyright © Richard D Seal | Year Posted 2025
|