In a Kingdom of eternal gloom,
Where silence wrote a tale of doom,
A poet agitated with pen in his hand,
To conjure dreams in that spectral land.
Amidst that uneasy quietude echoes did fade,
Whence comes inspiration, from what shade?
In the stillness whispered an ancient folklore,
An afflatus arose from the Realms of the yore.
“Tell me, O thought, whence do dreams emerge,
In the void where darkness does softly converge?”
Answered an echo lying in a spectral wraith,
“Dreams fructify where reality doth bathe.”
In the black-clad sky, where stars did weep,
The poet asks the reticent that sleep,
“Tell me, O Angels and Demons unseen,
What tales are written in this midnight sheen?”
Answered a celestial whisper from the abyss,
“Each tale told is a revenant’s kiss,
knit in the derelict loom of the astral weft,
Inside the poet’s heart, where dreams are dwelt.”
In the prying parts of his memory’s keep,
The poet pondered, where did the shadows creep,
“Tell me, O shades of the forgotten lore,
What spectres do haunt this corridor?”
Answered a voice, mellowly spectral and softly sad,
“Here dwell several unrequited love that time has had,
As ghosts of joy and shadows of pain,
Inside the poet’s mind, they shall forever remain.”
And then the moon casted its radiant glow,
Watching whom the poet asks the spirits below,
“Tell me, O shades shining in the radiant light,
What visions sway in this lunar night?”
Answered a sigh, through the graveyard stones,
“Visions do sway where the soul intones,
In the silence, ‘neath the pale moon’s luminosity,
A poet’s dreams are but dreams of reality.”
Amid the silence, the poet began to weave,
A mosaic of dreams, where sorrow did cleave,
“Tell me, O ephemeral shades of the nocturnal sky,
Wherefore do dreams in the heart never die?”
Answered a whisper, like the raven’s plumes,
“Dreams endure beyond these tombs,
Inside the poet’s heart, they rejoice in their rebirth,
And rapture in the Immortal silence of Earth.”
And as in the night, where silence did weave,
A poet conjured dreams, where darkness did cleave,
In this haunting beauty and the mysterious rhyme,
The answers do linger, beyond this space and time.
One Response
Clearly this is a great example of AI generated poems, even a 14 year old student can generate this type of poem. I don’t know about your ‘Editors’ who made this poem their ‘choice’, may be they are also AI generated. To be honest, I thought this is a genuine platform for aspiring writers but obviously you guys are more partial and blind than most corrupted political leaders. Hope you guys don’t like this comment and delete it as fast as it got posted. So, thanks for nothing.