AI can write poems. Beautiful ones, even — until it doesn’t. Sometimes, what comes out feels less like Shakespeare and more like a fever dream written by a toaster trying to express feelings.
One AI once wrote:
“The cloud of emotion swims in the soup of my electric sadness.”
You pause. You squint. You wonder if it’s deep… or if it just accidentally invented a new genre of nonsense philosophy.
That’s the charm of AI poetry — it tries. It knows rhythm, it knows rhyme, but it doesn’t feel. So when it writes about heartbreak, it describes “a USB cable longing for connection.” When it writes about nature, the moon ends up “typing softly to the trees.” It’s absurd, surreal, and sometimes — unintentionally profound.
In a way, AI poetry is like reading a child’s diary written in code. It mirrors our metaphors but doesn’t quite grasp the emotion behind them. And yet, in that confusion, it creates something new — a kind of digital Dadaism.
Maybe one day, AI will write verses that truly move us. Until then, we’ll just enjoy its nonsense masterpieces — one line of electric sadness at a time.
