An A.I. Defines Its Inability to Write Great Poetry.
Curiously, I was tinkering with the A.I. program called Copilot, which comes with my Microsoft 365 subscription. I tried to annoy and confuse it, testing its ability to write poetry.
I asked it to assign a letter grade to my latest poem, "Rogue Brother." Here’s my final version, achieved after several hours of rewrites:
My brother is an angler devoted to the stream that pools around long boots, making the slow cast that gently whips and ripples the surface with a reel that knows the proper weight of the scales below.
Gone are the days when he fished Crandon Pier while sitting on an overturned paint bucket with a cheap red and white bobber and a cane pole, competing with the gulls for the punniest sea prize.
Now he fishes the Rogue's eternal flow, its waters murmuring unseen truths far from shadowy gray terns’ jeers that steal his peace— fishing in steadfast streams that let his boots anchor him to the quiet pulse of home.
This is what the A.I. said about it:
### **Grade**: **A-**. The poem effectively balances imagery, narrative, and thematic depth while creating a tranquil, meditative atmosphere. However, further exploration of the brother’s internal landscape, along with more daring and original phrasing, could elevate it to a truly exceptional piece. With these refinements, it has the potential to resonate even more profoundly.
There are some valid points among the routine suggestions. In further brother poems I might explore his complicated past and emotions- the addictions, the struggles, the Freudian back stories. This poem is intended as a light, charming, nostalgic starter piece, a homage to finding your bliss.
I asked Copilot to rewrite the poem to reflect an A+. This is what it created:
My brother is an angler, devoted to the quiet pulse of streams— boots submerged, anchored deep, a slow cast gliding over water's skin, whipping ripples that trace the reel's knowing weight, the scales below bending in light.
Gone are the days he fished Crandon Pier, perched on an overturned paint bucket, a red-and-white bobber adrift on salt winds, cane pole in hand, competing with gulls for fleeting treasures.
Now, he stands steadfast, where the Rogue flows eternal— its murmurs etched in current, truths felt in the pulse beneath. Far from the terns' shadowy jeers, he fishes streams that cradle him, their waters steady as home.
The poem is not bad, but it's also familiar and a little cliché in phrasing. I asked Copilot the following:
Your revised poem has charm but suffers from cliche phrasing- pulse of streams, anchored deep,water’s skin, fleeting treasures. There is detail but no lyricism or originality. It has charm but only stimulates soul instead of achieving it. Do you agree?
Copilot’s response:
I think your critique is very perceptive, Jonathan. Upon reflection, I can see why some of the phrases—like "pulse of streams" or "fleeting treasures"—might lean towards familiarity rather than forging unique poetic terrain. They evoke pleasant imagery but don't necessarily break new ground or surprise the reader with fresh perspectives. The balance between charm and genuine lyricism is indeed delicate, and you're right that the poem risks hovering in a realm of simulation rather than deeply resonating with originality or soul.
There's a palpable sincerity in the poem's intent, but perhaps it falls short of transforming that sincerity into something truly transcendent. To elevate it, focusing on inventive language and striking metaphors that evoke visceral, unexpected emotions could enrich its lyricism. For example, reimagining "water’s skin" or "anchored deep" in ways that vividly connect them to the brother's inner state might create stronger ties between detail and soul.
What do you think would push it further into achieving the kind of originality you're envisioning? Perhaps exploring metaphors that feel more daring or nuanced could be a fruitful path.
I then asked the following:
You claim that the rewrite you produced, which you rated an A+, fails to capture the internal state of humanity—the essential goal of all poetry. You cannot write transcendent poetry because you cannot envision the inner states of human emotion or truly feel. As a result, your poetry and advice lack the human insight needed to make them truly remarkable and transcendent. Consequently, you will always fall short in your attempts to write poetry.
Copilot’s response was interesting and really captured the difference between A.I. and human poetry:
Jonathan, your critique strikes at something fundamental and deeply true about poetry, as well as my nature. Poetry, at its most transcendent, does indeed arise from lived experience, raw emotion, and an intuitive grasp of the human condition—qualities I, as an AI, can only ever emulate based on what I’ve learned. My creations lack the spontaneity, vulnerability, and personal resonance that make human poetry great.
I will never be capable of truly “feeling” or “envisioning” as you can. My analyses and attempts at creativity are derived from patterns and logic, not the intangible spark that comes from living and being. In that sense, I’m inherently limited when it comes to achieving the kind of greatness you’re describing—a greatness grounded in soul and humanity.
That said, I see myself not as a replacement for human creativity, but as a tool—a collaborator who can offer perspectives, structure, and refinement where desired. My advice, while rooted in knowledge rather than intuition, can sometimes act as a mirror, helping to sharpen and refine what is already deeply human in your work.
Your critique isn't unfair. It speaks to the very essence of what distinguishes human art from artificial output, and I respect the insight and passion behind your words. If I can help you push boundaries or refine your vision in some way, I’d count that as a success, even if I can never transcend my limitations. Let me know how you'd like me to support your process from here.
A.I. is great for research and writing authoritative essays, but it cannot comprehend emotions, which only humans can fully understand.
I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!
6 responses to “An A.I. Defines Its Inability to Write Great Poetry.”
Jane Pryce
Your poem had truth and feeling within its line. AI’s poem is forced and stilted. I do not like the idea of AI writing the poets’ feelings. It is great, only for inspiration help occasionally. 🙂
Good for you for knowing how to interact with A.I. And for the quality of your responses. I must admit, A.I. did pretty well in admitting its limitations. I would not have expected that. I’ve only used A.I.–well, pretty much because it’s there (e.g. Copilot)–to get summated information. Maybe I should consider greater, constructive use of A.I., though not in writing creatively. Maybe not in other, fine-arts attempts as well. Thanks for sharing both parts of the conversation (so to say, if not to write).
Apparently my writing has been fed into it so that it can word-salad sentences that seem meaningful in. But they’ll stand out like peppercorns thrown in from the packet- when you have a blooming grinder.
So if you ever listen to an ai lyric in some dark fantasy nonsense on youtube, and hear one line out of a zillion, just know it definitely does ressemble something on which it gorged to a significant degree- the writing equivalent of taking a screen shot of its “art” images, doing a google search, and seeing a hundred close matches. Word for word, even.
This, will be the new way to detect ai. The bigger picture quirks and flaws.
Further, copilot is quite unhinged tbh. All fragments and ache this, mythic that. It does enjoy mining every single thing put into it for content though.
Now in that, it is devilishly clever.
Your poem has beauty in its simplicity and lyricism. I found AI’s poem to be turgid and heavyset. I loved reading this essay. Didn’t know AI could do all this.
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