Poetry and Artificial Intelligence

Occasionally we host guest posts on this blog. They are often topical, provocative or simply informative. This guest post by Dr. Iain Strachan is all three. As always, your comments and questions are welcome.

Can AI pass the Turing Test today? by Iain Strachan

In a Invisible Poets Road Show in Derby, Steve Wheeler asked me if I thought AI had passed the Turing test. I replied "Yes ... and No." 

I had just read a poem "A chatBot named Christopher" about Alan Turing, where I had claimed that the answer is "No".

However, AI-generated poetry continues to fool us again and again. I have been fooled by it. I once praised someone's Villanelle on Invisible Poets that on closer examination turned out to be AI generated.

Why does this happen? I think it's to do with the way we interact with pop songs. I asked a member of my family "When you listen to a pop song, do you think about the words?" He replied "Not really. If I know the words, I'll sing along to the tune, but I don't think about what they mean."

I expect most people are like that. Pop songs have to be singable, so the lyrics fit the tune, and so we are only engaging with the words on a superficial level. So they need to flow smoothly, have simple rhyme schemes etc.

Human poetry is different. It doesn't always have a smooth iambic pentameter rhythm; for example:

For thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings and desperate men (John Donne), or
The soil/is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod (Gerard Manley Hopkins).

See how the strong syllables pile up with no light syllables between. The Hopkins also has enjambment, where the sense carries on over the line break. Song lyrics don't do this - normally each line stands alone.

It's the same with AI generated poetry. It is polished, and flows nicely; each line is self-contained. But, whereas with a pop song, you can find depth and meaning in the lyrics: a story told, or a telling metaphor, if you examine an AI poem carefully, you won't find any depth; it falls apart as a sequence of poetic sounding phrases and clichés strung together with no clear overall message.

So if you find a poem that seems super smooth and polished, take a closer look before you enthuse about it. Don't give the AI fakers their serotonin boost! If it's AI, it will fall apart and you'll find the words of my chatBot poem to be still true:

Chatbots today can't pass the Turing Test
Their show of understanding's fake, at best.

Iain Strachan

Image used under a Creative Commons License

Experimental poetry 13: Breaking Structure

Variation in poetry? Yes please! Poetry doesn't always need to be beautiful, soothing or idyllic. Poetry can also be challenging, disturbing, grating, and even downright uncomfortable to read or listen to. Make your poem chaotic and you'll capture a lot of attention! 

How do you introduce variation into your poetry? Well, in previous posts in this series I have written about surprise end rhymes, anarchic poetry and random prompt poetry. Adding an unexpected element to your writing keeps people guessing and piques the interest. 

One of the great sins of poetry is to be predictable to the point of blandness. The key aim of all experimental poetry is to force you outside of your comfort zone and into uncharted territory. If you walk this pathway, no one will ever again be able to accuse you of being a boring poet!

Method 22: Assonant endings. Ditch the forced end rhyme! There's nothing worse than a poem that loses its credibility because the writer is forced into using words just for the sake of the rhyme! If you can't or won't break out of the shackles of the end rhyme, then try using assonance instead. Examples include love/enough and rise/tried. Here, only the vowel sound is consistent. Assonant endings will give you a greater variety of vocabulary to choose from. 

Method 23: Breaking the line. Write sentences that vary in length. Forget about tempo or rhythm. Let your words flow unobstructed across several lines. The sentence doesn't have to conclude at the end of a line. Bleed part of the sentence over into the next line. Then start another sentence on the same line. This is known as enjambment. Break up the sentence into punch sized smaller lines so that it cascades down the page. Spread the words out randomly across the page, with plenty of space between them. The options are multiple. 

Method 24: Breaking the structure. Take one of your previously written poems and examine it. What could you do to break up the structure? How could you change it by inserting line breaks, adding unconventional grammar, inserting strange punctuation, or unexpected words to jar or surprise your reader? Maybe a strange, repeated refrain will create intrigue... your variation is only limited by your imagination!

Steve Wheeler 

Previous posts in this series

Experimental Poetry 1: Found Poetry
Experimental Poetry 2: Stream of Consciousness
Experimental Poetry 3: Fake Translations
Experimental Poetry 4: Overlapping Voices
Experimental Poetry 5: Random Prompts
Experimental Poetry 6: The Movie Method
Experimental Poetry 7: Unexpected End Rhymes
Experimental Poetry 8: Calligrams
Experimental Poetry 9: Anarchic Poetry
Experimental Poetry 10: Timed Writing
Experimental Poetry 11: Paraphrasing
Experimental Poetry 12: Deliberate Malapropism

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Poetic devices 9: Enjambment

Enjambment .... it's a French word, right? Lots of poets have never heard of it. But we've all seen it. We just don't know the correct word to describe it. You know... that weird thing where a new sentence starts in the middle of a line... maybe even the last line of a stanza... and then carries on as if nothing has happened into the next stanza. 

Enjambment comes from the French verb enjamber which means to stride across, or to encroach upon. And that's exactly what happens. The half finished sentence rides across to be completed somewhere in the following line, couplet or stanza.

Enjambment presents readers with an unresolved, and hopefully intriguing sense. They feel compelled to read on to find out what happens next. Whilst a rhyme provides closure, enjambment delays it. We are continually seeking for resolution, meaning, closure; enjambment creates a tension that provokes us to read on. 

Enjambment can create a free-flowing poem that places emphasis on unexpected tempo or change of pace. It works with punctuation too. In It is a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free, William Wordsworth places a semicolon in the middle of a line instead of at the end:

The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;

It makes all the difference! Here, enjambment has been used to maintain the rhythm and flow of the poem, and also to preserve the integrity of the end rhyme scheme; Nun, sun.

Enjambment can also be used to build momentum in a poem, to provide some contrast or complexity, and playfully, to add some fun elements to the syntax of the lines. 

In the poem Endymion by John Keats enjambment is mixed with rhyme to create an illusion that there is closure after each couplet. But the thoughts keep coming, driving the reader on...

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

I hope you can get to grips with this poetic device. It is remarkably adaptable and can take your writing to the next level. 

Steve Wheeler 

Previous posts in this series

1. Simile

2. Metaphor

3. Repetition and refrains

4. Alliteration

5. Assonance

6. End Rhymes

7. Internal Rhymes

8. Rhythm and Tempo

Image by Banalaties used with a Creative Commons Licence