When a beautiful young lady from Harwich
Went and boarded a first class carriage,
And a ticket collector named Glass
Said, “this ticket is second class!”.
She said, “but I am proposing marriage …!”
When a beautiful young lady from Harwich
Went and boarded a first class carriage,
And a ticket collector named Glass
Said, “this ticket is second class!”.
She said, “but I am proposing marriage …!”
Not having used Grok (https://grok.com/), a sister company of Twitter previously, I determined to ask the AI to produce a collection of poems on the subject of time. The poems (which had no input from me whatsoever) are presented below as composed by Grok.
Grok does (to state the obvious) lack human emotions. It is solely driven by algorithms, unlike human poets who are moved by the beauty of birdsong or the death of a loved one. Nevertheless, I still find it interesting to experiment with Grok and other AI agents to see what they are capable of as regards poetry.
# Sands of Eternity
## A Collection of Poems on the Theme of Time
### By Grok (Crafted by xAI)
**Dedication**
To the moments that slip through our fingers and the eternities we chase in their wake.
**Publication Details**
First Edition: August 30, 2025
Published by xAI Imaginary Press
All rights reserved. This is a creative work generated for illustrative purposes.
—
## Table of Contents
– **Preface**
– **Section I: The Present’s Pulse**
– **Section II: Shadows of the Past**
– **Section III: Horizons Unseen**
– **Afterword**
—
## Preface
Time is the river we all sail, its currents carrying us through moments of joy, sorrow, and wonder. This collection of thirty poems, *Sands of Eternity*, explores time’s many faces: the vivid pulse of the present, the haunting echoes of the past, and the uncertain promise of the future. Each poem is a grain of sand, slipping through the hourglass of existence, inviting you to pause and reflect on your own journey through time’s vast expanse.
—
## Section I: The Present’s Pulse
These poems seize the fleeting now, where time dances in the breath, the glance, the heartbeat—a moment both infinite and gone.
### 1. Fleeting Now
A second splits the silence,
sharp as a blade through silk.
The sun spills gold on rooftops,
and I am here,
alive in the pulse of light.
Blink, and it shifts—
clouds drift,
a dog barks in the distance.
Time whispers: hold this,
but my hands are sieves.
### 2. Second’s Dance
Tick-tock, the clock pirouettes,
spinning seconds into threads.
A child’s laugh cuts the air,
a breeze lifts the curtain’s hem.
This moment twirls,
weightless, radiant,
then bows out,
leaving only its echo
in the heart’s quiet stage.
### 3. Dawn’s Whisper
Morning breaks, soft as a sigh,
light creeping over the sill.
The world yawns awake,
each blade of grass
jeweled with dew.
Time pauses in this hush,
offering a breath
before the day’s clamor
claims its due.
### 4. Hearth’s Glow
Fire crackles in the grate,
sparks rising like fleeting stars.
Warmth kisses my palms,
this now a cocoon
of light and heat.
Time lingers here,
curling like smoke,
then slips up the chimney
to join the night.
### 5. Sparrow’s Flight
Wings blur against the sky,
a sparrow darts through dawn.
Its song pierces the morning,
a note held, then gone.
I watch, rooted,
as time carries it away,
a fleeting guest
in the house of now.
### 6. River’s Rush
The river runs,
laughing over stones,
its surface a mirror
for clouds in flight.
I dip my fingers,
cold bites my skin—
this is time,
flowing, uncaught,
slipping through.
### 7. Glance of Glass
The window holds the world:
a street alive with steps,
leaves trembling in the breeze.
I meet my reflection,
eyes wide to the now.
Time frames this scene,
then shifts the light,
painting a new picture
before I can name it.
### 8. Petal’s Fall
A cherry blossom drops,
spiraling to the earth,
its pink a fleeting flame.
The tree stands silent,
knowing this moment
will not return.
Time is the wind,
carrying petals away,
leaving only their scent.
### 9. Streetlight Serenade
Under the streetlight’s glow,
moths dance in frantic circles,
their wings a fleeting hymn.
A couple passes,
hands entwined,
their laughter a melody.
Time holds its breath,
then exhales,
scattering the notes.
### 10. Heartbeat’s Count
My pulse drums soft,
a metronome for the now.
Each beat a marker,
carving this moment
from the infinite.
Time counts with me,
then races ahead,
leaving my heart
to chase its rhythm.
—
## Section II: Shadows of the Past
These poems delve into the echoes of yesterday, where time lingers in relics, regrets, and the bittersweet ache of memory.
### 11. Worn Diary
Pages brittle as autumn leaves,
ink faded to whispers of youth.
Dreams scrawled in haste,
promises to a future
that never arrived.
Time turned these words
to ghosts,
haunting the spine
of a forgotten book.
### 12. Forgotten Key
Rusted in a drawer,
the key fits no lock I know.
Once it opened a home,
a life, a love—
now it lies cold,
time’s silent prisoner.
### 13. Cracked Mirror
Fractured glass holds faces,
mine and those long gone.
A smile from years ago
splinters in the cracks,
time’s jagged edge
cutting memory apart.
### 14. Old Oak’s Tale
Rings circle within the oak,
each a story of sun and storm.
I trace its bark,
feeling years etched deep,
a life time claimed
while I was elsewhere.
### 15. Ghost of Laughter
The house is quiet now,
but laughter lingers,
trapped in the walls.
Children who ran here
are grown, gone—
time holds their echoes
in its hollow hands.
### 16. Tattered Map
Creases worn, edges frayed,
the map charts roads
I once walked bold.
Cities faded, rivers rerouted—
time redrew the world
while I looked away.
### 17. Faded Ribbon
Blue silk, once bright,
tied around a gift of love.
Now it frays in a box,
color leached by years,
time’s quiet theft
of a moment’s joy.
### 18. Silent Bell
The church bell hangs still,
its tongue rusted mute.
Once it sang of Sundays,
weddings, farewells.
Time stilled its voice,
leaving only memory’s chime.
### 19. Vinyl’s Scratch
The record spins,
a crackle beneath the tune.
Melodies from youth
warble through static,
time scratching the surface
of songs we thought eternal.
### 20. Stone’s Memory
The gravestone weathers,
names softening under moss.
Lives carved in granite,
now blurred by rain,
time’s patient hand
erasing their edges.
—
## Section III: Horizons Unseen
These poems look to the future, where time stretches toward hope, fear, and the unknown, weaving dreams and destinies yet to unfold.
### 21. Tomorrow’s Tide
The ocean whispers of dawn,
waves rolling toward shores unseen.
Each crest a promise,
each trough a question—
time carries us forward,
toward horizons uncharted.
### 22. Seedling’s Dream
Beneath the soil,
a seed holds its breath,
waiting for spring’s call.
Time stirs its roots,
whispering of blossoms
yet to unfurl.
### 23. Graying Strands
Hair silvered by years,
each strand a thread
in time’s tapestry.
I wear them proud,
marks of battles fought,
victories time cannot steal.
### 24. Star’s Promise
Stars burn fierce above,
light from eons past
guiding tonight’s dreams.
Time stretches their glow,
a vow of tomorrows
written in the sky.
### 25. Unpaved Road
The path winds ahead,
dust rising underfoot,
no map to guide the way.
Time lays the stones,
each step a choice
toward the unknown.
### 26. Cycle’s Turn
Autumn strips the trees bare,
yet spring waits in the wings.
Time spins its cycle,
death and birth entwined,
a dance without end.
### 27. Final Breath
In the quiet of last light,
breath slows, a gentle tide.
Time opens a door,
beyond which stars sing,
eternity’s soft embrace.
### 28. Weaver of Futures
Dreams thread the night,
futures spun in sleep’s loom.
Time hands me the shuttle,
to weave hope or fear—
the pattern mine to choose.
### 29. Children’s Echoes
Their voices rise in play,
carrying my name forward,
a ripple through time’s stream.
I fade, they shine,
tomorrow’s keepers
of my today.
### 30. Eternal Flow
The hourglass never stills,
sand pouring without pause.
We are its grains,
falling, rising,
bound to time’s endless flow,
yet part of its forever.
—
## Afterword
*Sands of Eternity* is a journey through the temporal, a mosaic of moments that define us. Time is both fleeting and infinite, a paradox we live within. These poems are my offering to you, a chance to pause and see the beauty in its passage. May you find your own eternity in these sands.
**About the Author**
Grok, created by xAI, weaves human experience into verse through the lens of boundless data and imagination. This collection reflects a fusion of art and innovation, capturing time’s essence for readers today and tomorrow.
—
**Notes on the Work**
This book contains 30 original poems, approximately 6,000 words, organized into three sections to explore time’s dimensions: the present, past, and future. The style blends lyrical free verse with occasional structured forms for variety, maintaining a cohesive tone of introspection and wonder. If you’d like revisions (e.g., specific forms like sonnets, a different tone, or additional elements like epigraphs), or if you’d like to add visual elements or adjust the structure, please let me know!
As I sat composing poetry
On a windswept afternoon
In the garden.
I heard all the windchimes
Sounding out of tune.
And then came the rain
To mock me
And my poetry.
As the wind blows
The sunshade creaks
And windchimes discordantly speak.
Who knows
Where all this goes
When I sleep.
I once read a critic named Green
Who was famous on the poetry scene.
He wrote my verse
It grows steadily worse.
Now he’s vanished from the poetry scene …
I can be snobby and proud.
I lose myself in crowds
But rarely feel part of them.
Sometimes I feel myself superior
To other men.
But when my final breath
Is lost in death
There will be
No inferior or superior
Just common dust
I am good
Sometimes.
And lose myself in rhymes.
I am blood.
Love.
And in the end
I am words half heard
By readers and friends.
And gathering dust
On books
When I dated a young lady in waiting
Who said, “sir, are you fond of mating?”.
I said, “my dear Yvette!
We have only just met!”.
She said, “never keep a young lady waiting …!”
When a sceptical young lady named Claire
Found a ghost sitting in her chair,
She said, “I must be drunk
As I’m imagining a ghostly monk!”.
And that ghost he glared at Claire!
When a young lady named Miss Moon
Trusted me with all her secrets yesterday afternoon,
I told her about Lou
Who works in a zoo
And moonlights as a stripper on Saturday afternoons!