I am not sleeping enough to write thoughtfully about any of the things I would like to, good or bad. I just backed a Kickstarter from the Paleontological Research Institution because I think a stuffed plush Dunkleosteus is one of the nicest birthday presents I could give myself. The stack of library books beside my bed now contains a copy of Elizabeth Goudge's Green Dolphin Street (1944) and a matching DVD of the 1947 film is waiting on my desk because I have decided to do this thing to myself. It's true they aren't good, but I'm not actually sure these examples of AI-written poetry are Vogon-level bad; I've seen worse from teenagers who just discovered e.e. cummings.
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Active Entries
- 1: Like a sprig of yarrow caught in the dark
- 2: We'll tell you of a blossom and of buds on every tree
- 3: Am I lost inside my mind?
- 4: And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first
- 5: You showed me how to not throw my troubles away
- 6: And the fisherman collects, yes, they collect the sounds from their nest above
- 7: We dig for the gods that leave no bones
- 8: Now there's always someone else in the back of your mind
- 9: I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground
- 10: Ma twll yn y pridd yn Alltwalis lle taflaf fy mhryderon
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