Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Elon
Musk
Speaks on
Grok 4 Chatbot
A giant leap towards
Artificial intelligence
Complete freestanding
Autonomous being
Super humanoid
AI can
duplicate
Every mannerism and nuance
Of any person on earth
an uncanny
Simulacrum
AI is a perfect mimic
To the untrained eye
Yet.                 AI is
nothing                  more
than.                            A
poor                                man’s
copy                                        Of
God’s.                                     Creation



Inspired song;

Vogue
By Madonna

Footnotes
I Actually wrote this poem for July 9 and already had the word of the day for the 14th unbeknownst to me so I suppose it’s fortuitous
BLT Websters word of the day challenge
July14 nuance
A nuance is a very small difference in something such as color, tone, meaning
And bonus
July 9, 2025 Simulacrum
A superficial likeness of something usually as an imitation, copy, or representation.
If                               You  

Don’t             Stand

For

Something

You        Will

Fall                  For

Every                         Thing
X mark’s the spot
Meet me
where time forgot to move,
in the space between the ache
and the answer.
I bleed with ink.
You breathe in brushstrokes.
Still, we meet
in the same shade of ache.

I call it a stanza.
You call it a sky,
but both are ways
to survive the silence.

My pen trembles like your hands do
when the colours won’t blend.
We try to tell the truth,
but it keeps slipping
into metaphor.

I say “I miss you”
through rhythm.
You say it
through smudged reds
and too much blue.

We never made sense
in black and white.
But somewhere between
my verse
and your canvas,
we almost
became a masterpiece.
When a painter loves a poet. Find me on the Poesie app as palindromic_angel to hear my readings :)
If I let go of the pain,
does it mean we never existed?
If the grief begins to fade,
was it ever really love?

I would rather carry the sorrow
than forget what it meant.
If healing means losing you,
I’ll stay broken.
 7h
Maddy
Our Mom died five years ago today.
Covid took her.
I prefer to be alone in my foul mood
In  the  big park on an empty bench sat yours truly and a ten pound bag of nuts
Others were having a lively Sunday far from the bench
The nuts were placed between two trees
One squirrel chomped on the shell
Nine nuts later looking for more
Three other squirrels some smaller partaked
Lovely company on a sad day
Leaving they continued their banquet by their trees
Hex
No savage charm
no ancient witches hex,
no juju whispered low,
no knuckle bones to throw
or runic text to read and call you to your fate
poets have no powers,
no dark and evil incantations,
we weave a net of words
and lure you in with our creations
Next page