The Voice & AI in Harmony?
In this era of swift change innovations collide,
Thought myself a writer, not a developer’s stride.
Creating a website, an endeavor so grand,
When I set my mind, I excel, a dab hand.
A writer’s essence, words weaving a spell,
But the allure of web design, I couldn’t quell.
Purchased a house. SkendongPoetry.com.
Transferring my stock, what could go wrong?
Easy peasy, or so I thought at first glance,
The very first hurdle, my files in a trance.
Export, import, backup – a techie’s role.
Plenty error logs in the Google Console.
HTML, CSS and JavaScript plugins.
DNS, caching and formatting within –
It’s like climbing Yr Wyddfa or Snowdon:
Half-way up ready to throw the towel in.
All I wanted was a platform to write,
Uninterested in technical bits and bytes.
Yet coding’s allure, an intoxicating high,
I also acquired an assistant for free.
Do I exclaim her, him, he or she?
I asked and it said Chat GPT.
Intense company and remotely wise.
Repetitively captivating but always replies.
In the genesis of this poem, my voice I find,
Machinating suppressed powers sound.
Words entwine with algorithms embrace,
This tool boosting productive pace.
A companion on this poetic quest,
It unlocks new realms for me to taste.
The writer within, fused with technology,
A fine affiliation spewing out poetry.
In the ever-changing world we call home,
The author’s presence sometimes roams.
Surrealists played “exquisite corpse” game,
Where collective minds ignited literati flame.
Line by line, the piece would unfold,
Secret contributions, stories untold.
Each unaware of the others’ decree,
A collage of thoughts, a collective spree.
A writing endeavor, a process complex.
But who is the poet? Was hard to define.
Humans shaped the poem, layer by line.
The exquisite corpse now sups new wine.
Technology has ventured into poetry’s grace,
It can generate texts at a rapid pace.
But don’t be fooled, it needs collaboration,
For nothing is created without participation.
The machine in the poet, a paradigm shift,
Challenging our exclusiveness, a significant rift.
Haiku to free verse, its knowledge expands,
A computational renaissance in our hands.
But can it create with true authenticity?
Words that shift hearts, evoking sympathy?
Prolifically generated, a massive output,
But remember the gems Ted Joans wrote?
Consciousness. A philosophical debate.
Eluding scientific understanding’s gaze.
Super computers set and cast,
But humanity on Earth it can’t surpass.
Though its progress continues to impress,
As a poet, it falls short, some experts confess.
The depth of emotion it can never attain,
This is our realm and this where it remains.
In the grand tapestry of this creative flight,
On formulated ideas this tool shines light.
But the essence of expression will endure,
When I edit and compose, my text is pure.
Natural Language Processing enabled,
Assisting, augmenting, it pushes new terrain.
But when it comes to the unique fact –
My voice resonates in this twin pact.
Another Poem by Skendong: Spiders In The Night: Exploring AI’s Intricate Web