Inspired by:  https://www.engadget.com/2018/08/10/ai-sonnets-shakespeare/

 

Now algorithms will write as vague Shakespeare

But suggest nothing, lead nowhere that is required

For the eternal passengers to ascend or hold near;

As the brilliant golden carriage is stalled and mired.

Our dearly beloved do not want that salty soup

Of random generations of lush hollow words

Bard-like, but not there at all, just a cruel dupe

As watching a tin sow when the air is full of birds.

The thin poet does not make any rough wind

Summer remains unshaken, Death ignores the shade

Cast by a feeble shelf-grown sapling that cannot defend

His tawdry stem – feeble by the original blade.

Shall I compare this imp to a true form?

Not yet, dear Will, is it anywhere born.