Monthly Archives: May 2019

The English Oak

When Brexit has been and gone
The English oak will live on
And continue to provide sanctuary
Under it’s all-embracing shade
To lad and maid
Of every race. For a tree
Does not discriminate, or hate.

Researchers Trained Computers To Write Poetry

Researchers have developed a bot capable of writing poetry. Having been fed a good deal of verse, the programme is, apparently capable of tricking humans and has come up with many poems, including the example below:

“With joyous gambols gay and still array
No longer when he twas, while in his day
At first to pass in all delightful ways
Around him, charming and of all his days”.

The New York Post describes the above as “not bad”. While I would agree that this sample of verse is interesting, I wouldn’t describe it as “not bad”. To me it reads rather like a computer programme had been fed the complete poetic works of the humorous poet Edward Lear and come up with this short poem. The verse is, for me also reminiscent of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky.

Poetry is, in the final analysis an expression of human emotion, whether sadness, happiness, anger or a combination of various emotions. At present only humans can feel emotion (as opposed to being able to simulate it), so what the researches have created is a clever programme capable of soaking up the poetry produced by others and using its “knowledge”? to produce it’s own attempts at poetry. The programme is producing nothing original, although it has, admittedly knitted together the poetic cannon to produce some interesting results.

To read the article please follow this link, https://nypost.com/2018/08/08/researchers-trained-robots-to-write-poetry/.

If I Could Look Into Your Mind

If I could look into your mind
And you into mine,
What would we find?

Will you pretend
That no friendships would end
And that our inner feelings
Would not leave one another reeling?

A smile
May just that be,
A smile
But all agree
That guile
May hide inside a smile.

Some maintain
That man will
Never fully understand the brain,
While still
Others maintain
That you will never find the mind
Within the brain.

I know not whether the mind
Is separate from the brain,
But I can not pretend
That many a friendship would not end
Where you and me
To be able to see
Into the mind
Or brain
Of our dearest friend

I Know A Talented Poet Named Purse

I know a talented poet named Purse
Who has published a collection of verse.
Each page has no writing,
Which I find quite exciting,
As its fun to read blank verse . . .

Wednesday Morning Humour

I know a pretty young blonde
Of whom I’m extremely fond,
But when I suggested a date
She just couldn’t wait
To throw me in the pond!

I know a pretty young blonde
Of whom I’m extremely fond.
Her name is Louise,
And being a tease
She pushed me in her pond!

I know a petite young blonde
Of whom I’m rather fond.
Her name is Louise
And a hive of bees
Nests in her hair dyed blonde!

A most saintly vicar named White
Patrols the streets at night,
Where he saves fallen women
From their life of sinning,
By taking them home at night . . .

I Sit in Quietude

I sit in quietude
With no
Tech to intrude.
I know
The inanity
And vanity
Of all
This stuff.
Birds call
Yet most men hear not
For the white hot
Heat of technology beckons.
I count the cost
Of countless seconds
Lost
In this screen
Dream
Where you and I
Fly, but never see the sky.

On Going To Bed Last Night

On going to bed last night
I met 2 young ladies in white.
When I gazed in surprise
They batted their eyes
And said, “do you have lodgings tonight . . .?”.

On going to bed last night
I met 2 young ladies in white.
When I gazed in surprise
They said, “we shall tell you no lies,
We are vampires who haunt the black night . . .”.