Behind the sunshine
I often find
The eternal rain.
While inside
The smile
Oft hides
Our human rain.
Behind the Sunshine
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Category Archives: creative writing
Loitering
As I loitered in a dark alley
I got arrested by police constable Sally.
I was buying fine art
From a girl called Heart –
But the jury believed police constable Sally …!
A Young Lady Wearing 100 Bras
A young lady wearing 100 bras
Said, “I shall fly to Mars!”.
But those bras being tight
She stayed home all night,
With a Martian eating chocolate bars!
Guy Who Works in AI
I met a young man named Guy
Who works in the field of AI.
His programme writes verse
Which grows steadily worse.
But some say its written by Guy!
Forgetful Rose
I met a young lady named Rose
Who said, “I am fond of crows.
I left my perfume
In this changing room.”
I said, “it’s here with your clothes …!”.
What Happened When I Asked Chat GPT to Write a Poem in the Style of My Poem “Autumn Fly”?
I asked Chat GPT (software developed by https://openai.com/), to write a poem in the style of my own poem “Autumn Fly”. The results are below. (“Autumn Fly” can be found in my collection “Light and Shade”, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Light-Shade-serious-not-poems/dp/B08B37VVKV).
Write a poem in the style of this poem.
An autumn fly
Buzzes around my head.
Summer is dead
Yet will not die.
Seasons pass.
We are brittle as glass,
This fly and I.
Chat GPT’s Poem:
A winter breeze howls through barren trees,
The autumn leaves have all gone to sleep.
The world is frozen, silent and still,
But a lone fly lingers, against its will.
It buzzes and flutters, seeking escape,
From the icy grip of this wintery landscape.
Its wings beat fast, a frantic blur,
A symbol of life, in a world so unsure.
For we too are fragile, like the glass,
That shatters with a single touch, alas!
Our time on earth is fleeting and brief, Like the seasons that bring us joy and grief.
Yet this fly persists, a stubborn light,
In a world that’s dark and cold as night.
It reminds us to cling to life and hope,
To fly free and wide, no matter how remote.
So let us be like this autumn fly,
And strive for the sun, even as it dies.
For life is a journey, full of surprise,
And we must make the most of its fleeting guise.
The Poisoned Pen
When a young lady named Henrietta
Sent me a poisoned pen letter,
I said to Miss Gale,
“Hasn’t she heard of email?
Its much quicker than a letter!”.
On Leaving the Pub Behind
On leaving the pub behind
I heard birds
And felt the London rain.
I often find
That birds, and fleeting words
Occupy my mind.
And the same rain fell
On ancient Rome.
But the birds they heard
Have gone with Rome.
The Vicar’s Bed
When a naughty young lady named White
Climbed into the vicar’s bed last night,
His sweet mistress Claire
Said to Miss Flair,
“Was it you who invited Miss White?”.
Gale and the Curtain Rail
There was a young lady named Gale
Who swung from the pub’s curtain rail.
When they said, “you are strange!”.
She said, “in yonder old grange,
We all swing and drink strong ale!”.
K Morris - Poet 