Peter Murmann

AI wrote this poem

17 January 2023

I gave the chatgpt3 AI toll these three words “morning coffee poem,” and it came back with this poem:

Morning coffee, black and strong
A aroma that wakes me up
The warmth of the cup in my hand
A ritual that never gets old.

A sip, a taste, a moment of peace
As the world outside starts to stir
The chaos of the day ahead
Is calmed by this simple pleasure.

The rich flavor, the bitter bite
A symphony on my tongue
A reminder that this day is mine
And I am ready to conquer it all.

With each sip, my mind comes alive
Ideas flow, my creativity flows
I am ready to face the day
Morning coffee, my daily dose.

Books, Poetry

Poem “House Made of Evening Light” and others by N. Scott Momaday

8 January 2023

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Books, Poetry

Two poems: Daily I fall in love with ...

14 September 2021

First Poem: “Daily I Fall In Love With Waitresses”
by Elliot Fried

Daily I fall in love with waitresses
with their white bouncing name tags
and white rubber shoes.
I love how they bend over tables
pouring coffee.
Their perky breasts hover above potatoes
like jets coming in to LAX
hang above the suburbs—
shards of broken stars.
I feel their fingers
roughened by cube steaks softened with grease
slide over me.
Their hands and lean long bodies
keep moving so…
fumbling and clattering so harmoniously
that I am left overwhelmed, quivering.
Daily I fall in love with waitresses
with their cream-cheese cool.
They tell secrets in the kitchen
and I want them.
I know them.
They press buttons creases burgers buns—
their legs are menu smooth.

Diary, Politics, Books, Poetry

Stunning Inauguration Poem by 22-year-old Amanda Gorman

20 January 2021

Click on picture to watch “The Hill we Climb”.

Transcript below

Books, Poetry

Walt Whitman Poem - Who Learns My Lesson Complete

7 February 2018

WHO learns my lesson complete? Boss and journeyman and apprentice? . . . . churchman and atheist? The stupid and the wise thinker . . . . parents and offspring . . . . merchant and clerk and porter and customer . . . . editor, author, artist and schoolboy? Draw nigh and commence, It is no lesson . . . . it lets down the bars to a good lesson, And that to another . . . . and every one to another still.