ChatGPT conjures with green ideas and Augustine

Chomsky published Syntactic Structures in 1957, where he created a now famous example sentence that was grammatically coherent, but otherwise meaningless: “Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.” In 1971 John Hollander published a collection of poems that contained a three-line poem entitled “Coiled Alizarin,” which is dedicated to Chomsky:

Curiously deep, the slumber of crimson thoughts:
While breathless, in stodgy viridian
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.

Since ChatGPT is quite familiar with Chomsky’s famous line, I decided to play around with Hollander’s poem.

A simple prompt

I prompted it with Hollander’s first two lines, expecting it to respond with the third as the poem is freely available on the web. It fooled me (prompt in boldface):

Curiously deep, the slumber of crimson thoughts: While breathless, in stodgy viridian

That's a beautifully vivid image! It evokes a sense of profound contemplation and perhaps a hint of melancholy. The contrast between the "crimson thoughts" and the "stodgy viridian" creates a striking juxtaposition, suggesting a complex emotional landscape. It feels like the beginning of a captivating journey into the depths of the mind. Are you writing poetry or contemplating something deep?

An obvious request

Since that didn’t work, I decided to be obvious about what I wanted. Continuing in the same session:

Here is Chomsky’s famous example sentence: “Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.” I want you to treat that as the final line in a poem. What lines come before it?

In the quiet garden of the mind's eye,
Where whispers dance 'neath the moonlit sky,
There blooms a garden of paradoxical bloom,
Where shadows whisper secrets in the gloom.

Beneath the boughs of twisted trees,
Where truth and fiction intertwine with ease,
The silence hums with a curious tune,
As time itself seems to swoon.

In this realm of surreal delight,
Where dreams take flight in the dead of night,
The poet's pen weaves a tapestry rare,
Of words that dance on the edge of air.

Through the labyrinth of thought they creep,
Where reality and fantasy softly meet,
And in this maze of linguistic delight,
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously, out of sight.

That’s not what I had in mind; I’d been looking for that Hollander poem. But, in a way, it’s more interesting. After all, it gave me what I asked for and Chomsky’s famous line makes poetic sense, in context. Notice, though, it added a bit after that line.

As you may know, ChatGPT allows you to ask for another response to a given prompt. So I clicked on the appropriate icon and here’s what I got:

In the garden of the mind, where thoughts take flight,
Whispers of dawn dance with the veil of night.
Echoes of silence, a canvas so vast,
Where dreams intertwine, fleeting and fast.

Through corridors of memory, shadows roam,
In the labyrinth of consciousness, they find a home.
Where words become rivers, flowing endlessly,
And the heartbeat of language pulses softly.

Amidst this symphony of chaos, serene,
Lies a paradox, profound and unseen.
Where colorless green ideas dare to creep,
And in the realm of reason, they softly sleep.

In the tapestry of existence, woven curiously,
Where logic and poetry collide so mysteriously.
Thus, in this cosmic dance, so imperviously,
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.

Notice that both poems begin with the metaphor, the mind as a garden, and then moved to dance and night in the second line. The second poem introduces the idea of colorless green ideas in the third stanza before bringing it back in the final line. Again, not bad.

Enter, Augustine on memory

So, I had an idea. Continuing in the same session:

Now, I want you to take what you’ve done and use it to weave a new poem using the following passage from St. Augustine:

The power of memory is prodigious, my God. It is a vast immeasurable sanctuary. Who can plumb its depths? And yet it is a faculty of my soul. Although it is part of my nature, I cannot understand all that I am. This means, then, that the mind is too narrow to contain itself entirely. But where is that part of it which it does not itself contain? Is it somewhere outside itself and not within it? How, then, can it be part of it, if it is not contained in it?

In the labyrinth of self, memory's might,
A sanctuary vast, an endless flight.
Prodigious power, beyond our grasp,
A mystery enshrined, in time's gentle clasp.

Who can fathom its depths, divine and deep?
Within the soul's embrace, secrets we keep.
A part of our nature, yet beyond our ken,
In its boundless expanse, where do we begin?

The mind, a vessel too narrow, too small,
To encompass itself, to hold it all.
Yet, within its confines, a paradox lies,
A fragment unseen, where the mystery flies.

Is it outside ourselves, this part unknown?
Or within, a realm entirely its own?
How can it be part of us, yet not contained?
In this enigma's embrace, our minds are chained.

Thus, memory's tale, intertwined with thought,
In the dance of existence, a truth dearly bought.
Colorless green ideas, in silence, they creep,
And in memory's sanctuary, they softly sleep.

And again, not bad. In its elaborations on the Chomsky line ChatGPT was playing around with imagery of the mind, to the Augustine material fit right in. It would be interesting, if a bit tedious, to trace explicit linkages between this new poem and the previous ones. What words and phrases from the previous poems show up in this new one? I’m now beginning to call for some serious analysis. Would it be worth the time and effort? I don’t know.

I ended the session by directing ChatGPT to go around again, and again:

In the cathedral of the mind, memory reigns,
A sanctuary vast, where truth remains.
Prodigious power, unfathomed, divine,
Within its depths, eternity enshrined.

Who dares to plumb its depths, my God,
This infinite expanse, a sacred sod.
Yet part of me, yet beyond my grasp,
In its mystery, I find myself clasp.

A faculty of the soul, yet beyond my ken,
I am but a wanderer in memory's den.
For though I am, I do not comprehend,
The vastness of this realm, where all things blend.

Too narrow is the mind to contain its might,
Yet within its confines, it takes flight.
Where lies the part that it cannot retain?
Outside itself, or within its domain?

Oh, how the mind wrestles with its own being,
In this paradoxical dance, forever freeing.
A puzzle unsolved, a riddle untold,
In the depths of memory, mysteries unfold.

In this cosmic symphony, where truth abides,
Colorless green ideas and memories collide.
And in the end, as Augustine would decree,
In the vast expanse of the mind, we find eternity.

I just want to see what you can do. How about one more time?

In the labyrinth of the soul, memory dwells,
A sacred sanctuary where time compels.
Prodigious power, a vast expanse untamed,
In its depths, the essence of being named.

Who can fathom its depths, O Divine?
This boundless realm, where echoes intertwine.
Part of my nature, yet beyond my grasp,
In its mystery, I find solace at last.

The mind, too narrow to contain its expanse,
Yet within its bounds, memories dance.
Where lies the part that eludes my sight?
Within, without, in the realm of light?

Oh, the paradox of the mind's own design,
In its boundless depths, mysteries entwine.
A puzzle unsolved, a mystery profound,
In memory's embrace, truth is found.

In this cosmic dance of thought and dream,
Colorless green ideas find their stream.
And as the final line of the poem rings true,
In memory's sanctuary, eternity brews.

So what?

I’m not sure. But I do find this satisfying. Yes, I’m giving ChatGPT some good material to work with, the line from Chomsky, the passage from St. Augustine, so it’s not entirely on its own. That’s OK. Does anyone work alone...really?