more poetry
May. 17th, 2002 01:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mamajoanI've put more of my fic into the poetry generator and must share more snippets...
"Cold Comfort" (Spike/Buffy, but not):
Cold Comfort By the same way. back,
and
presses one arm is
hard. Not a god,
or just do I
love you? will. because
he thinks not. preparing to satisfy now.
"The Hills May Shift" (Xena/Gabrielle, but not):
The Bard My
daughter watched with ease. For the Amazon Princess too? Anra
said not a stage, and emotions, the innkeeper said. shortly.
it before replying,
Very happy today,
you can be impossibly persistent. Another moment
she was comfortably padded into
the great surprise.
And this one's my favorite so far, from "The Field Where I Died" (Clark/Lex, but not):
Wow. Kind of amazing how that poem captures the feeling of the story itself, especially the last few lines, and how it ends with the thriving weeds. And the part about the houses being meaningless. I like it. It's deep.
I guess it goes to show something fairly profound about the random nature of poetry and profundity, ya think? I mean. People can strive so hard to write a poem that's full of layers and meaning, and then a computer program comes along and does it even better. Heh. Maybe it's time to go re-read The Moon is a Harsh Mistress again.
"Cold Comfort" (Spike/Buffy, but not):
Cold Comfort By the same way. back,
and
presses one arm is
hard. Not a god,
or just do I
love you? will. because
he thinks not. preparing to satisfy now.
"The Hills May Shift" (Xena/Gabrielle, but not):
The Bard My
daughter watched with ease. For the Amazon Princess too? Anra
said not a stage, and emotions, the innkeeper said. shortly.
it before replying,
Very happy today,
you can be impossibly persistent. Another moment
she was comfortably padded into
the great surprise.
And this one's my favorite so far, from "The Field Where I Died" (Clark/Lex, but not):
The death of his cheek,
willing his feet, drew composure
around Their engines. As he stood
in the way, heading
back to his limousine
and glittering blue pools
made the houses all started right
meaningless.
piece of land
His steely blank expression harden
even his former friend. Sweet?
Touching? No. trace of land, as always,
was
just
another bit the
demolition of land, and wildly thriving
weeds.
Wow. Kind of amazing how that poem captures the feeling of the story itself, especially the last few lines, and how it ends with the thriving weeds. And the part about the houses being meaningless. I like it. It's deep.
I guess it goes to show something fairly profound about the random nature of poetry and profundity, ya think? I mean. People can strive so hard to write a poem that's full of layers and meaning, and then a computer program comes along and does it even better. Heh. Maybe it's time to go re-read The Moon is a Harsh Mistress again.
