Poetry Day 27 (belated), Computer sonnet

I was going to post this yesterday, I swear! From NPR's All Tech Considered, computer written sonnets.

Quake with true fear of just reproach my shame
while her eyes came to me we sweetly sing
hand clasped in her breast her withered hands fling
yet by and claim loves boon nor let the tame
But this affliction sure thy heart inflame
he in silence come and assistance bring
then comes a small bright spark comes wandering
sorrows for him you gave that love once came.

Of doom lest any see the signal hear
that tremble through their incandescent nights
wave must dare if the while himself he cheers
what sudden bird will bring us any cheer
Fled to that audit by advised respects
a sequent day to your world of gain roars.

So, the idea was to have computers write sonnets in an effort to pass the Turing Test (which is to say, a computer which acts sufficiently like a human to fool another human). Poetry is a big step, since human poetry follows certain rules (as in sonnets - a certain number of lines, a particular number of syllables per line, and a cohesive rhyme scheme, often ABBA CDDC and the like, although there are several versions), which computers are good at, but also contain coherent and consistent images and sustained metaphor, which computers are not good at at all. (Having a computer compose blank verse might be more successful - you could convince the judges that the computer was a moody teenager, perhaps). The above was written by a computer, and it's not the worst poem I've read, but it's clear that the computer is still stringing words together to follow a set of programmed rules instead of crafting metaphors.

A green nub pushes up from moist, dark soil.
Three weeks without stirring, now without strife
From the unknown depths of a thumbpot life
In patient rhythm slides forth without turmoil,
A tiny green thing poking through its sheath.
Shall I see the world? Yes, it is bright.
Silent and slow it stretches for the light
And opens, uncurling, above and beneath.
The sun warms it and with a little time
Another slight leaf joins its neighbor,
They crown slowly and birth without labor
Feeding on the air’s breath like a rhyme.
How can we know with body and with brain,
The force that makes the earth suck up the rain.

By contrast, this is a human written sonnet - note the sustained metaphor; every phrase building to a logical image with a message and meaning. So, in a world run by computers, humans will still write poetry (for now...).