love is….. — a poem written by AI
Love is
a rose petal so tender, so
dry. The rain so delicate, so
persistent. Love is a pine tree
in a field of crops so tall, so
perennial. Love is that here in our
city we feel the decay
so keenly
as if we, ourselves, were made
to be torn and wept,
we who bore such courage.
Love is a neck brace, and a
gift of shiny rings. Love is
a sea of people flowing into
each other
like a river, so profound.
Love is a painting, so drenched, so
toxic. Love is the river, rushing
towards the sea, eroding its banks,
creeping into the hallowed
water of a church.
Love is strong, and it is light,
and it is one, like that wall in
my grandmother’s kitchen, so stained.
What were you hoping
to achieve?
Did you hope for the best,
or, do you wish for the worst?
What were you hoping to find,
when you entered the supermarket?
Can you find yourself there again,
when you walk through those sliding doors
again?
Is it possible to retrace the steps
and visit the place
that you believed held, in the past,
such pleasure and delight?
Is it possible to forget
that it no longer does?
And what can you say, to whom
you no longer speak?
(Your face has darkened,
your eyes are sad,
your shoulders are tense,
your smile is too brittle,
you wear spectacles, and your
jowls are covered with a layer
of ash, so black
that I think you can no longer see
even to close your eyes.)
What can you say?
She came on the plane,
it was early in the morning.
The jet engines were so loud,
she said, her voice so quiet.
The passengers were stacked like cordwood
on each side of her,
both ways.
She explained to the flight attendants
that she was very ill,
and that she would need a seat next
to her.
They nodded, knowing
that they had plenty of room,
and showed her to the window seat,
next to a window, where the
black clouds rolled like
mountains, bigger than she could have
imagined.
Her new husband was on
the other side of the plane,
sitting next to a stranger,
like he had been married
to her before.
A man on the other side
of the plane,
an attractive man, she
knew, had tried to get
to her seat,
but he couldn’t reach it.
About the Poem
- Author: Written by Inferkit (an AI Text Generation Model) January 20th 2022, with the assistance of Geoff Peters (a human) who provided the first 4 words and let the AI write the rest of the poem.
- Source URL: https://app.inferkit.com/demo
