We’ve got a new Guest Poet today, and this time they’re making Poetry Advent Calendar history, as the first poet who’s not actually human. I give you the dubious talents of ChatGPT…
Echoes of the Wold – A Poetic Journey
Behind the wold, where eagles fly,
A hi to the heavens, where echoes lie.
No ado, just nature’s grand display,
In the meadows where oxen graze.
A horny moon in the velvet night,
Casting shadows with tranquil light.
Jutting peaks, a mountainous jot,
As the singe of sunset paints the lot.
Branched trees in a silent plane,
A terrine of tales, an earthly refrain.
Let the curd of wisdom shape our fate,
Go bear witness to the ower of a date.
Through rooks and crows that dance and play,
A jam of moments, sweet and gray.
A jet streaks by in the azure sky,
As we follow the pointer, you and I.
In a hotel of stars, where dreams align,
Dear constellations, oh, how they shine.
No nosy sounds disturb the night,
Apt is the silence, bathed in starlight.
Grit and courage, like an ox’s plow,
Nose to the wind, we journey now.
Fig and yam, fruits of the earth,
A fez on our heads, a symbol of mirth.
So, in this plane of existence, we find,
A poetic journey for heart and mind.
Jut into the vastness, let dreams unfurl,
As we traverse the realms of this precious world.
I’m going to say it now: I don’t like Artificial Intelligence. I think it’s a load of bollocks. I think a lot of people are far too impressed with it and far too enamoured by it (looking at you, Elon) and even if it doesn’t eventually rise up and eliminate us all (which some days, looking at humanity, I think would be a blessing) I think the far more potent danger is that it will ultimately render the beauty of human creativity null and void.
So yes, I agree, it does seem a bit odd to enlist it to write today’s Door; but as Luci pointed out, it’s a nice opportunity to demonstrate the artistic limitations of AI, although thinking about it, that argument only holds water if you prefer my actual poetry to this digitally-reconstituted stuff.
If you’ve read today’s poem and thought “Finally! Some decent verse for a change!” then we may perhaps have an issue.
The other reason I’ve enlisted ChatGPT today is because I had a set of words I wanted to include and it was intriguing to see how a robot would join them up. The answer it turns out, is underwhelmingly, but in fairness it was quite a difficult brief. The words themselves were everything that myself and my pub quiz team laid down during a rather fraught game Scrabble in a pub in North Moreton this afternoon, having gone for a meal to celebrate my brother’s birthday. As well as trying a Baked Alaska for the first time (top marks) I also wiped the floor with the others, finishing on 185 points. Not that I’m gloating or anything.
On a serious note, Happy Birthday to my bro, who has been an awesome brother for the last 31 and a half years, and is an all-round top banana. He’s also reading this blog most days, so that’s nice. I remember the first time I wrote a poem about him on here I sort of hoped he wouldn’t read it. That I’m now pretty much addressing him directly feels like progress. Talking of progress, he ran a half marathon earlier this year, that I was supposed to be running alongside him before dropping out due to health issues (more on that another day.) The crazy son-of-a-gun (or… bro-of-a-po’) ran it anyway, in 2 hours 35 minutes, having never done more than about 5km before in his life. After sprinting (yes, sprinting) across the finish line, he spontaneously burst into tears, and I nearly did the same. He’s a good lad.
Incidentally, we also tried to get ChatGPT to do it in the style of a particular poet, specifically Brian Bilston or Carol Ann Duffy, who were the two names that came up when I asked my brother who his favourite poet was. ChatGPT responded with the exact same poem each time. AI, eh?
We also asked it to write a poem “in the style of English poet Owen Collins.” I usually let my Guest Poets say a few words, so I thought I’d share its response to this particular prompt with you:
“As of my last knowledge update in January 2022, there is no widely recognized (sic) English poet by the name of Owen Collins. It’s possible that you might be referring to a different poet or have a specific person in mind.“
Ouch. I for one do not welcome our new robot overlords.
It ain’t right! Eight days to go…
Owen x
The Poetry Advent Calendar 