As AI-generated text continues to evolve, distinguishing it from human-authored content has become increasingly difficult. This study examined whether non-expert readers could reliably differentiate between AI-generated poems and those written by well-known human poets. We conducted two experiments with non-expert poetry readers and found that participants performed below chance levels in identifying AI-generated poems (46.6% accuracy, χ2(1, N = 16,340) = 75.13, p < 0.0001). Notably, participants were more likely to judge AI-generated poems as human-authored than actual human-authored poems (χ2(2, N = 16,340) = 247.04, p < 0.0001). We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.
People who don’t like poetry can’t recognise good poetry, news at eleven.
Seriously, though wake me up when AI can reliably replicate Vogon poetry…!
Oh freddled gruntbuggly,
Thy micturitions are to me, (with big yawning)
As plurdled gabbleblotchits,
On a lurgid bee,
That mordiously hath blurted out,
Its earted jurtles, grumbling
Into a rancid festering confectious organ squealer. [drowned out by moaning and screaming]
Now the jurpling slayjid agrocrustles,
Are slurping hagrilly up the axlegrurts,
And living glupules frart and stipulate,
Like jowling meated liverslime,
Groop, I implore thee, my foonting turlingdromes,
And hooptiously drangle me,
With crinkly bindlewurdles.
Or else I shall rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
See if I don’t!AGG MAKE IT STOP!!! Ok I’ll tell you anything, just please make it stop.
Have always really enjoyed writing poetry and playing with rhyme and meter. I’ve never enjoyed reading poetry from famous poets. The first time I became interested in “high status” poetry, just for its status, I heard about the newest Poet Loriet. I looked up their poems, all excited to read clear, interesting takes on the human condition.
I think it was probably Kay Ryan at that time. Here is a poem by Kay that I found online:
The Elephant in the Room
Kay RyanThe room is
almost all
elephant.
Almost none
of it isn’t.
Pretty much
solid elephant.
So there’s no
room to talk
about it.It wasn’t the typical art critique that a layman would typically jump to that filled me, “I could do that” it was tge far worse feeling of, “If I had written this, I wouldn’t have thought to show anyone”
I pretty much decided then and there that poetry, like most art, it seems, has little to do with content or quality. More so with means and notoriety.
How is it people are at all surprised out society created a new generation more obsessed with being popular online than anything else?
