A long daily journey,
As early as the sun,
Together in harmony,
Boards the awaited train,
Wait at the same spot,
Stand at the same section,
View from the same window,
But is it the same train?
The repeating routine,
Of a broken system.
There is nothing good will ever come out of my mouth,
Only deep numbing frustration like compacted powder of emotion,
There is no patience and solace except the happy finger anxiety,
And the words to let out are like knives and blades coated with poison,
What is kindness when they are the ones being punished?
What is patience when the world is filled with ignorants?
What is fairness when they are the ones being abused?
What is a family when they are bringing the home down?
Yet, I can never understand the main question,
Why am I still fighting to move forward?
Hi friends and readers,
Happy holidays and we are counting down to the new year. One of the buzzing words that happened in 2022 is ChatGPT. In simple language, it is quite an advanced chatbot that is really impressive!
So, I had to experiment with a lot of things with ChatGPT like asking different types of questions, asking for tips, and reviewing works. One of them is sharing a few of my poems and asking ChatGPT to write a poem. The poem is based on my previous shared poems.
I will share the poems it is based on below. Here is the poem written by ChatGPT.
A soul yearns for fulfillment,
From the sound of music in the air,
Euphoria that we all wish to last,
Until the old soul can no longer hear.
It was a hot and humid day,
A ceiling fan wasn’t enough,
The steady wind blew,
Like a temporary comfort,
On a beach with serenity,
Until it was too cold,
Followed by heavy rain.
He is not mysterious,
Nor does he want to be,
He is mostly reserved,
Hiding behind a silhouette,
He has much to say,
Yet spoken shortly with emojis,
He is nothing,
But a lost soul,
Walking on a crumbled path,
A man deprived of everything.
Each person yearns for something different,
Music, comfort, or a sense of self,
But we all seek a sense of peace,
To find our place in this world.
The last stanza took me by surprise. It is definitely written on its own yet has a similar style and feel as my poems.
The poems I’ve shared with ChatGPT are;
There is so much more to talk about the ability of ChatGPT. But, for now, what do you think?
The soul yearns for sufficient fulfillment,
From the moving vibration in the air,
Slips into the tunnel to the eardrums,
Harmony of voices and instruments,
The slow-touching yet finely stroke echoes,
Accompanied by strong distinct voices,
The notes, the pitch, persistent emotions,
Swimming and swirling filling the vast air,
The euphoric moment all wish to last,
Until the old soul can no longer hear.
If I could scream,
It will be loud,
Inhaling air,
Ballooning lung,
Letting all out,
Echoing voice,
Wild vibration,
Raising vocal,
Stressing chamber,
Straining the chord,
Out of breath,
With teary eyes,
Dry hurting throat,
Screaming the word,
“LONELINESS KILLS!”.
A sigh withdrew,
The eyes jaded,
The mouth sealed,
The sweats broke,
The fist closed,
The knee dropped,
The feet nailed,
Yet the one none saw,
The depleted mind,
The greyed heart,
And the dried desire,
To feel the grasp of living,
The weariness of life,
Goes beyond the spoken word,
Of tiredness.
I do not hate love,
Though it was painful,
Like a sharp small blade,
Slicing the skin,
I do not hate love,
I have forgotten,
Once given to me,
Even from the one –
reason I am here,
I do not hate love,
Even when my world,
Did broke and shattered,
After all the sweet –
lovely promises,
I do not hate love,
Even when my mind,
Fallen to sickness,
To the lower depth,
Of the known abyss,
I do not hate love,
I, do not hate, love.
As I step outside,
They keep on asking,
Did you just wake up?
You look so sleepy,
You holed up a lot,
You should go outside,
You should do this,
You should do that,
The old house they saw,
Was freshly painted,
The household they knew,
Is the opposite,
Of the life I had.
It was a hot and humid day,
A ceiling fan isn’t enough,
Add a table fan,
Crank it to the maximum,
The steady wind blows,
Like a temporary comfort,
On a beach with serenity,
And the slow cold breeze,
Accompanied by the loud,
Calmful waving trees,
Until it was too cold,
Followed by heavy rain.
What is a treasure?
Is it in a form of diamond and gold?
Is it the crown and jewelry?
Is it the long-forgotten family heirloom?
Is it the children in the family?
Is it the home to return to?
Is it the connection between relatives?
Is it a peaceful loving community?
Whatever the treasure is,
It lies in the eyes of the beholder,
A treasure worth to die for,
And to live forever with.
Write Ally! Write! 