Sham acumen

Young April hushed the convent door.
Tell them I have gladly gone 
twirled by the wind with a song 

of bliss. My pass a passion ticket spent 
swelled in the last wave of the night
playful at the waterline. Ere I crept

to other men, spirits of the air
that ring, girdled with dust of cake
and cup. Some were the ache

of autumn nights, shaken as roses
for my late delight. Every lover 
I could be; but I put no love

on the marriage tree.

For his ‘MTB Artificially‘ prompt, Bjorn asks us to experiment with some AI generated poetry combined with some of our own words. This was written by the author, inspired by Teasdale, Lowell, and Emerson and composed in Verse by Verse. I am rather pleased that AI has not proven poetically worthwhile after all!