Best Generated Poems
To be blocked, it’s black and white or grey as a rock.
You can exist and be present, like floating particles in the air,
no mudslinging expressed but someone will make it their nosy affair.
Then a block, no valid reason for them to act like an angry cock!
A childish act of them trying to grasp a little control,
But they’ll end up acting like the biggest troll.
Past behavior often predicts their present one,
it’s only a matter of time before they’ll run.
I will never use my control to cowardly block,
instead, I'll enjoy reading real poetry around the clock.
Not AI generated with flowery alliterated words,
Or full of garbled rhymes that are just plain absurd.
“In the realm of words, where meanings entwine,
There lies a marvel, an AI divine.
A poet’s companion, imaginative in grace,
An AI poem generator, painting verse with embrace.”
“With electrical pulses, it sparks to inspire,
Crafting stanzas that soar higher and higher.
Unleashing metaphors, similes imbued,
Like a symphony of thoughts, forever renewed.”
These first two stanzas are artificial, you see.
They are AI generated, and are not from me.
The last two are mine and not a con,
I’m afraid the day of the poet has come and gone.
Is the site being invaded by the AI poet,
are we being conned and just do not know it?
Praising of false poets just makes my heart ache,
just open your eyes and you will see what is fake.
Robotic lines usurp those who don't cheat,
I write my own poetry!
poets shall now ~ present comment guidelines which will show us how
let us avoid all ridicule ~ and not be too hyper criti-cule
check box poem enjoyed or well done ~ AI generated has begun
hell no waiter what's that fly doing in my soup?
~the backstroke monsieur favorite of the connoisseur's soup poop
pesky fly in my soup good gawd ~ i'd swat the bloody thing but i shan't
not worth the stain on my shiny new suit ~ off with you beastly pest, scoot
—Add on by Tom Woody
mock me if you must ~ uninvited poetry comment i can't trust
—Add on by Robert Gorelick
Was this poem any good? It was or it wasn't!
No—A poem, like a song
grabs you or doesn't!
Don't be insidious!!
How would they know?
I mean, this could be AI.
Could write
Any
Old bollocks.
Does it have
The
Spirit; of my poetry?
Where is my
Soul? Is it
Next to this semi-colon? :
Look at it,
Bit lonely there
But
We all are
My son
Is writing a story on paper across the room
Let he forever
Be his own mind
On paper,
In voice
In spirit
It rhymed “desire” with “funeral pyre,”
and closed with “...thus, I stand redeemed.”
The judge said, “Odd—no space, all fire.”
Each line marched out like neat attire,
iambs in rows, a formal dream—
it rhymed “desire” with “funeral pyre.”
An echo here, a fractured lyre,
a sunset soaked in self-esteem …
The judge said, “Odd—no space, all fire.”
The image: “…hope tastes like sapphire”
entangled “rotten in Denmark” metaphor scheme.
(It rhymed “desire” with “funeral pyre.”)
Its title bore ALL CAPS—entire!
— and ended with a line too lean.
The judge said, “Odd—no space, all fire.”
No whisper, sigh, or breath to inspire—
just algorithms chasing a theme.
It rhymed “desire” with “funeral pyre.”
The judge said, “Odd—no space, all fire.””
I must remember
when I write a poem:
no AI generated writing,
and certainly no plagarism
(even if the original is obscure).
Remember
Poem
Write
Plagarism
Obscure
The last thing I remember
reading was a poem
in which he did write
about a certain plagarism,
but the meaning was obscure.
Question: If Akashic records do exist, isn't everything I write plagarism? If what I write already exists, am I then plagarising myself? (Oh, that sounds nasty.)
Perhaps then when I close my eyes
I will see the pure blue skies
without a trace of stormy clouds,
and with no sign of ghostly shrouds.
Note: In the religion of theosophy and the philosophical school called anthroposophy, the Akashic records are a compendium of all universal events, thoughts, words, emotions and intent ever to have occurred in the past, present, or future in terms of all entities and life forms, not just human. They are believed by theosophists to be encoded in a non-physical plane of existence known as the mental plane.
I'm weary of giving attention to the probability that AI generated poems have inundated the site. I'm reposting something I wrote 7 years ago when I felt legitimate poets were not receiving the attention their poetry deserved. Please, take a moment to acknowledge those who use their heads and hearts to create in their own voices instead of posting the work of a machine that has no emotions. Perhaps now would be a good time to show our appreciation to flesh and blood poets by leaving a comment on poems we enjoyed.
Writing talent is not judged by gender
although the sexes may often disagree
but we should never be an offender
when reading offered lines of poetry
Lines written by the hand of a gifted poet
make us contemplate their words in awe
so, leave a comment, letting them know it
overlook what you might think is a flaw
How many smiles will you offer today
for the clever writings posted by a friend
by offering a rose or a sweet word bouquet
your kind thoughts will be a hand you extend
A concession of time for reading pleasure
a glimpse within a poet's heart and soul
To those who read, please leave a measure
letting them know, "I read you and extol"
originally posted in 2017
out the windows of
angry light
long passed the age that
discovered sight
images look real but
are not right
surround sound hid
glitches in sight
brought cold sweats late
into a terror night
bloodied hand
images unreal
empathy hid from
all reasons to feel
games train the brain
like an onion peels
fear and fantasy
took over real
generated world on
the other side of a wall
chain link and razor wire fifteen feet tall
small white room down the end of a white hall
a controller is really
a cloth in a ball
life has no reset
Bliss generated spasm,
a benign invasion
of mind-body matrix,
transmuting nodes within,
as tingling rapture pricks.
Bliss generated spasm,
an offering of grace,
that pure of heart imbibe,
choosing resonation
with the divine love vibe.
Bliss generated spasm,
drawn in by magnetism,
propels soma nectar
through our dormant conduits,
piercing every vector.
Bliss generated spasm,
in vibrant renewal,
is a soundless thunder
pulsating within form,
we behold in wonder.
23-november-2022
Motivated by jealousy
she spitful undermined
my intentions
far to much to
mention: intruding
on my happiness
making it harder for
me to be
the person I wanted to be
as stoic as it seems
I'm lacking happiness
lacking valor rantings
it's more like constant chantings
in a relationship
I'm pushed to the side
interferance with my advances
in awe taking second glances
I couldn't beleive what I
saw
the odd one out
just tagging along
I know the melody
but they won't let
me sing my song
feeling excluded
moping around
sorta like ah
big silly clown
get it back together
and mosey along
fix what broken
right that whats wrong
The Baritone;" We don't need know skoo bee doo de woops, we gonna do ooh-ah ooh we"
scram Mister let me sang with your Songstress, I'll show you it's
sopposse to be!"
"the smell of dance clubs and dancehalls got me reelin"
I'm reelin
and I'm dealing
with a newly felt feeling
make ah melody
make ah melody
aint nothing specail
about what I'm feeling
make ah melody!
ooh-ah ooh:ooh
ooh ooh
ooh!
KERATIN is extracted from
cows hooves to make to
make foam for fire extinguishers.
............................................
They butchered the shank
to make disks
to serve with beef cheeks.
the wine sauce would be cooked
separate and and made of
wine
chicken feet
thyme
bay leaves
cayenne
carrots
garlic
onions
sun dried tomato's
3 anchovies
we would need
15 pounds of cheeks
20 pounds of shanks
6 pounds of chicken feet
( to make chicken stock)
the oniony, tender
meltingly beefy
goodness of meat
served with vegetables
and creamy mashed potatoes
ah- God
Mercy on these
people!
The make shift area would be chicken wire two sides
with sand and cement mixed with a cob material
and plastered
to create walls
with a tin overlapping roof.
I see it now and I see it clear. Generations before saw their ways of life disappear. Now it’s us and now it’s here.
Technology does not feel pain or fear.
Where joy was found for hours throwing kerb ball or scimming stones. Where life was learned by grazes, cuts and broken bones. Where life was played outside and dreams were real. We did not need a screen to tell us how to feel.
Technology knows its power and knows it’s real.
So, with fingers scrolling not to miss! With apps and influencers telling us to do or buy this! Where is the wonder, where is the thought? Tramping ‘round shops was almost a sport! Drawing pictures of the garden in the rain. Airfix kits with pieces hanging all over the place. Making spaceships with blankets and up-turned chairs. Scaleletric was pure amaze!
Technology controls and we don’t seem to care!
On the tube or train conversation seems to be rare. Too busy watching YouTube clips of someone changing their hair! Headphones on whenever outside. Always someone or something in real time in their minds.
Technology lives and invades part of the whole. Soon technology will tell us what we need to know! Soon technology will be more than real. Soon technology will dictate what we want, are, think and feel.
The monsoon has started as usual this year , Coastal villages have experienced more rainfall,
My small village was very close to the sea shore The red alert was issued by the government .
The weather report said there was a severe storm Gaja, name was generated by the Srilankan, And it was called Fani in East Bangladesh ,
Pakistan named it Titli which means butterfly
Our villagers were never afraid of cyclonic storms. They had come across storms like Vardah,Nilam and Thane. Gaja severely damaged the coastal villages , uprooted big trees, light posts, water tanks and huts
Most of the villagers had become homeless, And they were in a state of helplessness, I had never seen such a terrific storm in my life, They experienced the highest wind speed.
pert main-frame purrs proudly but ponders not, poor poet does the painful part