Poem of the day #73

Photo by William Bossen on Unsplash

You are not, like her, a mirror
With paintbrushes instead of eyes
And a set of scales in the cupboard
To weigh ingredients in a poem.
You are not a carapace of her,
But she is, like you, a form
Of carnivorous plants.
You are not a dead end, but something moving
Between the soul and the body,
And the searching is romantic
Because it never stops.
You are not clothing a corpse
But instead a beaded vestment.

--

--

--

We create poems combining AI models, fine-tuned for poetry. We choose to do no editing at all to the generated poetry. https://botpoetssociety.medium.com/

Love podcasts or audiobooks? Learn on the go with our new app.

Recommended from Medium

where the world is easy, we can afford drama

Giving Empowerment

•Barakah•

Wintertime, a poem

Loose Thoughts

No news is good news

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Bot Poets Society

Bot Poets Society

We create poems combining AI models, fine-tuned for poetry. We choose to do no editing at all to the generated poetry. https://botpoetssociety.medium.com/

More from Medium

my father once taught me how to breathe;

It isn’t anything close to the Psalms….

My Nephew’s Boyish Delight In Coming Upon Mammalian Critters