To be on the brink of colour
Coming out of shadows
Is to stand at the edge of a cliff,
With the wind in your hair
Your eyes catches the sunlight
The soothing hum of bees & birdsongs
Vibrance of wheatgrass and red vines
Wild flowers peeking above shrubs
The sky moves in murmuring waves
Painting each frame with shades of blue
Above the draping weeping willows
Underneath your feet breathes life
At winter's end, there is a symphony
Between the soil & headless flowers
All at once, their fragrance is a lilac melody,
A beckoning that rises and floats.
To be on the brink of colour,
Is to count past the days of grey
And long nights of white grief,
To grasp and take that very small step
To where light bounces from tree to tree
You stitch the colours inside your pocket
And spread the quilted blanket on the floor
Season of flowers is around the corner
*****
The poem above is a revised version of the AI poem below:
To be on the brink of colour,
Is to stand at the edge of a cliff,
With the wind in your hair,
And the sun on your skin.
It's to feel the world around you,
In all its vibrant hues,
To see the beauty in everything,
And feel it infuse.
The sky is a canvas,
Painted with brushstrokes of gold,
The trees are alive,
Their leaves rustling bold.
The flowers are a symphony,
Each petal a note,
Their fragrance a melody,
That rises and floats.
To be on the brink of colour,
Is to know that life is a gift,
To be savoured and cherished,
With every breath and lift.
For in every moment,
There is a chance to see,
The magic that surrounds us,
And set our spirits free.
So let us embrace the colours,
That paint our world so bright,
And bask in their radiance,
As we walk into the light.
This poem was created by Chat GPT: To Write a Poem: To be on the brink of colour. This line is credited to Vikki on Twitter:
"To be on the brink of colour as if I've sorted the wrong days from the hapless season..." ~ L'Atelier De La Vie
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub: Meet the Bar Artificially, hosted by Bjorn Rudberg. Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. Thanks for your visits and comments.
The first part is my own poem. The second part is from the AI poem.
ReplyDeleteAI poems certainly need tweaking, otherwise they just look like pieced together bits of other poets’ work. I much prefer your version, Grace, especially the lines:
ReplyDelete‘The sky moves in murmuring waves
Painting each frame with shades of blue’
and
‘To be on the brink of colour,
Is to count past the days of grey
And long nights of white grief’.
Gorgeous, gorgeous work done, Grace! I especially love this part; "At winter's end, there is a symphony/Between the soil & headless flowers/All at once, their fragrance is a lilac melody/A beckoning that rises and floats." ❤️❤️
ReplyDeleteYou did it so well, with the rework... the original was much like all my efforts with chatgpt ... boring and repetitive. Your own poem is so much better (and I think you don't even need the AI generated one to do it)
ReplyDeleteYours sounds pretty good after you tweaked it. Still it doesn't possess your magic.
ReplyDeleteI was stunned at first reading this because I thought AI had reproduced your poetic voice so accurately! Then I read it as an edit of the verbiage and hence such beautiful lines as
ReplyDelete"At winter's end, there is a symphony
Between the soil & headless flowers
All at once, their fragrance is a lilac melody,"
Glad you posted your version and the AI version. It's interesting to me to see the original AI as the jumping point....and then how it's adapted. I must say, these two lines really struck me:
ReplyDelete"At winter's end, there is a symphony
Between the soil & headless flowers "
Sigh: happens to me every time, replay above (listed as anonymous at 4:37 PM is me....lillian. As is this one!
ReplyDeleteI think your own "tweaked" version speaks with a voice more authentic to you. The AI version reads like a greeting card - shiny and pretty, perhaps, but void of emotion and interest. Well done in taking the idea and playing with it though, but I most definitely prefer "Grace's words" in all their glory.
ReplyDeleteThe only original image in the AI poem is the one you gave it. The rest is trite cliché. Although you reworked a lot of those tired images and gave the poem something more personal, it still doesn't read like one of yours.
ReplyDeleteI don’t know if you know this Grace, I just found out today. Our friend and fellow poet Glenn Butkus passed away last Friday the 17th. I will miss his bold ways. Rest in peace Glenn.🕊
ReplyDeleteYour rewrite was much more interesting and smoothly worded.
ReplyDeleteMuch💜love