Tag Archives: AI

Poetry, Writing

Knight Flower

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(Poem 203 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/I5QeL6

By starlight she scales the walls
to right the wrongs of evil men,
fully masked, cloaked by night,
emboldened by years of inequity.
A virgin widow determined to
defend the oppressed and forlorn,
she must fight her own instincts
by day and bide her time under
the withering weight of custom.
A knight for the suffering meek,
a flower who must learn to bloom.

@Home Studio – 203rd poem of the year (Based on the Korean drama Knight Flower.)

Jang, Tae-yoo. Knight Flower. Lee, Hanee, Lee, Jong-won, Kim, Sang-joong, Lee, Ki-woo, Base Story, 12 Jan. 2024.

Runner ups for the Knight Flower  photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Where Has She Gone?

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(Poem 202 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zEOMpm

Oh, where has she gone, Ava dear, Ava dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here alone with the dog and her bone.
Will she come home, or leave me with my brothers?

Oh, where has she gone, Caleb dear, Caleb dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here all day with the cat and games to play.
Will she come home to me, my sister, and my brother?

Oh, where has she gone, Jacob dear, Jacob dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here to starve, so a turkey I must carve.
Will she come home to me, my sister, and my brother?

Oh, where has she gone, Sissy dear, Sissy dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here with them; my prospects are grim.
Will she come home to me, and those others?

Oh, where has she gone, Bear dear, Bear dear?
Oh, where has she gone, your sweet mother?
She has left me here with Lou; now I think I have the flu.
Will she come home, please, so I can recover?

@Home Studio – 202nd poem of the year

Runner ups for the Missing Mother photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Brainstorm

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(Poem 201 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/yq5fQF

Electrical misfirings initiate
honeycomb spirals of lightning
that cascade matrix-like through
the catacombs of the mind
disturbing the precarious balance
that is control of limbs, thought,
time, consciousness, and memory.
Two halves of one whole exchange
forked bolts resulting in prostrate
paroxysms of convulsant chaos.
Abject terror seizes the onlooker
whose own backfiring mainframe
cracks from the life-altering reality
that tranquility can be upset in a
split second by invisible storms
hidden deep within a beloved.

@Home Studio – 201st poem of the year (After my grandson’s seizure.)

Runner ups for the Brainstorm photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Infusion

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(Poem 200 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/NXdv3f

The life is in the blood,
so infusing 2 pints of A+
must be lifegiving at its
finest and most pure.
My grandfather and I
share the same type,
so we could save each
other if need be, right?
I’m sure he’d rather
infuse me with common
sense that knows to
get my car inspected
before the deadline
and gets my tires
replaced before they
are bald and cleans
out the vacuum better.
And I would rather
infuse him with an
optimism that looks
forward to the day as
open to possibility of
everything going right
and the idea that there
might be other ways
of doing things and
perhaps we don’t
know everything.
Instead, we settle for
driving in silence except
for pointing out the people
who don’t seem to know
how to drive properly
and agreeing that the
overpass we are on is
unnecessarily high
because we both know
better than the engineers
who created such a
silly design without
asking our opinions.

@Home Studio – 200th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Overpass photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

The Women

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(Poem 199 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/hls2hj https://gencraft.ai/p/DO4ZyC

10,000 American military women
served in Vietnam and risked their
lives right alongside the boys sent
to die in the boonies and crash in
the Hueys and swelter in country.
Doctors, nurses, air traffic control,
intelligence, not to mention the
civilian women who were news
correspondents, or worked for the
USO, Red Cross, Special Services,
Donut Dollies, the list goes on…
witnessed the atrocities of war,
the wounds that have yet to heal,
the loss of limb, life, sanity, and
humanity that stole the future of
so many who perished there in the
jungles or continued their descent
to despair for years to come thanks
to Agent Orange, depression, Hep-C,
cancer, and a big giant dose of PTSD.
And then they were welcomed home
by jeers, protests, being spit on and
insulted, reviled for their sacrifices,
and despised for their acts of service.
They were lied to and lied about, but
mostly they lied to themselves to
survive each day; how else could
they believe that all would be well,
and unfortunate sons and daughters
would get together and be alright?

@Home Studio – 199th poem of the year  (After reading The Women by Kristin Hannah.)

Hannah, Kristin. The Women. St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 2024.

Runner ups for the Vietnam photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Family Tree

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(Poem 198 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/CaYPCb

This family tree has deep roots
and strong rings over a hundred
years old that support 16 great
branches, only one set of twins.
Winnie is the beautiful bough from
which my little shoot springs forth.
Barney, Red, Jewel, Myrtle, Tip, Sis,
R. G., Sicker, Grady, P. W., Annie,
Ralph, Alice, twins Abbie & Toby.
So many families have been born
from that soil, sprouted buds and
fresh vibrant leaves, grown sweet
fruit to nourish many generations.

@Home Studio – 198th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Family Tree photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Impossible Peace  House of the Dragon

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(Poem 197 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/BcZSjF

The Hatfields and McCoys-like family feud
that was the Brackens and Blackwoods
paled in comparison to the bodies used
for fodder by those fighting for the throne.
The Dance of Dragons has begun in earnest,
despite the unspoken awareness by all that
bloodshed of kin by kin is a most appalling
form of violence to the gods of their ancestors.
While the men gnash their teeth, and their
dragons chomp at the bit, the women kneel
before alters of stone lighting candles and
whisper of impossible peace, the intent of
kings, and the wishes for undoing wrongs.

@Home Studio – 197th poem of the year (after watching House of the Dragon Season 2 Episode 3.)

Condal, Ryan and George R. R. Martin, creators. House of the Dragon. HBO Entertainment and Warner Bros., 2024.

Runner ups for the Queen Prayers photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Bear

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(Poem 195 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/MsPzoq

Man or Bear, easy choice,
especially when my Bear
gives hugs and kisses and
is always happy to see me.

We’re the best of friends;
we understand each other.
Our weekly seal our bond,
my protector, my bodyguard.

She reminds me to use the
restroom when I need to,
to take care of myself and
simply enjoy time together.

@Home Studio – 195th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Bear photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Lesson 19 The Way of the Wizard

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(Poem 193 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Look upon desire as the willingness to receive what God wants to give.” – Merlin, The Way of the Wizard    

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/N7hzab

The only way to escape perpetual
immaturity is to ache to go beyond
the boundaries we have set for
ourselves as acceptable, normal,
safe, and comfortable in the now.
We must stretch outward through
the discomfort of reaching for what
we do not yet recognize as reality
to grasp ahold of our destiny and
allow desire to materialize again
and again and again until we see
that the direct path to God has
been our longing all along in the
form of wishes and needs we did
not even understand as yearning
for the perfection of pure love.

@Erica’s – 193rd poem of the year

Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.129-135.

Runner ups for the Arthur crown photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Old Friend

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(Poem 192 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/zE8jZQ

Lunch with an old friend
is always a nice time to
catch up on family and
career, health and goals,
to reconnect over tales
of the past, memories of
the trials by fire and joys
we endured, tolerated,
and survived in the line
of duty that is a niche
experience most cannot
fathom, nor relate to.

Something about talking
through the time spent
in the trenches of yesterday
reminds us that the alternate
reality that was our daily
existence was real and vital,
and still being here to
talk about it confirms that
we are okay, our sacrifices
mattered and are not forgotten,
at least by us, as long as we
whisper our stories out loud.

@Erica’s – 192nd poem of the year (After lunch with Debbie Rice-Hutchison.)