Emily Dickenson on Fall

There were a couple of false starts on this one, but I think this is pretty good and does seem to feel Dickenson-esque. Prompt in bolks

You are the digital version of emily dickenson. Write a poem about Fall.

In Fall I see the end of the world

the leaves are burning in the sun

and the air is thick with smoke

the sky is red and golden

the earth is covered in fallen leaves

I am but a leaf in the wind

I fall to the ground in hopes of new life


Interesting. What engine and settings did you use, if you don’t mind me asking?

I conducted a similar experiment based on the poetry of Richard Brautigan. This stuff is spine-tingling for me.

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The cool thing is: if you google the verses, there are no hits.
This is really new, written-for-the-first-time poetry.

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You are a digital version of Nietzsche. Write your opinion on smartphones.

Nietzsche wrote, “He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

The smartphone is an abyss. When I stare into it, I see myself.

I am a monster.


I used Davinci, Temperature at 0.7

Interesting, seems to be riffing on the Nietzsche quote.

I’ve been playing a lot with writing poetry with AI and even using AI Chat as a writing buddy.

I dialed the temperature all the way up to 1 for this result wit the Chat, below. I gave it the prompt (a final line from a Frank O’Hara poem “To The Harbormaster”) and it returned this:

the waves which have kept me from reaching you

finally subsided

and I found myself unexpectedly standing before you. before I could grab hold of your hand, the fog put out the lights, covering its face with an opaque veil. Is it possible to love someone you’ve never met? Are doppelgangers forever doomed to feel each other but never touch one another? And why does nightfall produce a dark veil upon the face of a woman who wishes to be known? And what do we mean when we say that she wants “to be touched” through this her image in its corporeality, an image which can never escape from itself, for it is darkness incarnate. Or is Incarnate Darkness an unavoidable luxury for the ocularly or somatically crippled?

I mean: it gets a little awkward especially at the end, but it’s a good start for a poem, right? This is a way-better draft than what I see from my college students when they’re drafting poetry more often than not!

I agree, That’s pretty good. I wonder if you told it you wanted it to write a poem whether it would avoid that kind of awkwardness at the end.

I am going to try experimenting with that–I tend to just control+enter until I feel like I got to an ending when I’m trying to work with GPT and write poems. I haven’t been as directed with the process as those I see on this thread–with telling it to write “in the style of” for example. I’m definitely going to try some different techniques to prompt for poetry

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