I've been reading a lot about the different AI chatbots that exist, and if you want to read a good article about comparisons among them, try this one: AI chatbots compared: Bard vs. Bing vs. ChatGPT - The Verge. I was curious as to how Bing would answer me when I asked it to rewrite two of my poems from my previously-published collection Parables & Voices. I started with Bing's AI chatbot. It was interesting to deal with it; firstly, it is very polite and nice, so if your questions are civil and reasonably intelligent, you will get civil and reasonably intelligent answers. I was not interested in challenging it in any way, nor in being rude in my interactions with it. I asked it to rewrite two of my poems and it did so. In both cases it made one or two grammatical and vocabulary revisions, nothing more, which I found interesting.
I then asked it to write poems that dealt with the same themes, which it did. I'm posting the poems here. It then wrote the following: "I hope you like it! Is there anything else I can help you with?" It's clear to me that the responses it provides are very much dependent on how in-depth or superficial the questions are. I have to admit that it felt a bit strange to deal with the chatbot, but it did not scare me off. This is the new frontier, after all, and I am curious by nature. I can definitely see how these chatbots might be a useful tool, as long as one does not rely on them for creativity purposes. Regardless, as a writer, I think that the poems I wrote are subtler and better-written than the ones written by Bing, so I don't fear for the future in that regard. But of course I am being subjective. Being creative is an inner and quite personal process, as individual as the billions of people inhabiting the earth. Perhaps there will come a day when AI will be as or more creative as humans are. When that day comes, who owns the copyright to what the chatbots have written?
1. Transience
I see with vision clearer,
The transience of life.
I am aware of life ending,
In every season and every evening.
Even the moments of the day
Fade to dusk and then into oblivion.
One separates the wheat from the chaff
And stores away those memories and thoughts
That are to be used in the making of wisdom;
Not all can be retained, possessed or hoarded.
I see with vision clearer, and then with vision darkened,
For not even the vision remains
For more than just a moment.
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Bing's response when I asked it to write a poem based on the same themes--"Sure! Here's a poem I came up with":
Transience (Bing AI's poem)
The fleeting moments of life,
Like sand slipping through our fingers,
Remind us of our mortality,
And how we're just mere mortals.
The memories we hold dear,
Are like precious gems in our hearts,
That we cherish and hold onto,
As we journey through life's paths.
But even these memories fade,
As time marches on relentlessly,
And we're left with nothing but echoes,
Of what once was and what could be.
So let us live in the present moment,
And make the most of every day,
For life is but a fleeting moment,
That can slip away in the blink of an eye.
Like sand slipping through our fingers,
Remind us of our mortality,
And how we're just mere mortals.
The memories we hold dear,
Are like precious gems in our hearts,
That we cherish and hold onto,
As we journey through life's paths.
But even these memories fade,
As time marches on relentlessly,
And we're left with nothing but echoes,
Of what once was and what could be.
So let us live in the present moment,
And make the most of every day,
For life is but a fleeting moment,
That can slip away in the blink of an eye.
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2. Entropy (my poem)
All things, it seems
Tend to disorder
Without massive efforts
To prevent this.
In life, in love
The tendencies, the choices,
All are crossroads, forked paths--
One to order, one to entropy.
Love, it will be said, promotes order,
Elevates man's nature and his spirit.
But love destroyed is entropy defined--
Where limits cease existence; disorder thrives.
Truth is order, and a life defined thereby
Is holy and promotes the same in others.
Evil is the path to entropy, the road
Paved with choices that defy order.
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Bing's poem based on the same themes:
The Path of Life (Bing AI's poem)
Life is a journey full of choices,
A path that's winding and full of voices,
That whisper in our ears and guide us along,
As we journey through life's paths.
Some paths lead to order and truth,
While others lead to chaos and ruthlessness,
And it's up to us to choose the right path,
That leads to a life of purpose and meaning.
Love is a force that can guide us along,
A beacon of light in the darkness of life,
That can help us find our way back home,
When we're lost and alone in the night.
But love can also be a force for destruction,
A raging fire that consumes everything in its path,
Leaving nothing but ashes and ruins behind,
And a heart that's broken and shattered.
So let us choose the path of life with care,
And walk with purpose and meaning every day,
For life is but a fleeting moment in time,
That can slip away in the blink of an eye.
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