Google’s  Bard Comments on Shorewick’s Work

• T.M. Shorewick is a poet and photographer who lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. His work has been published in numerous journals and magazines, and he has two books of poetry to his credit. Shorewick is a passionate advocate for the environment, and his work often reflects his concern for the natural world.
• T.M. Shorewick is a master of the haiku form. His poems are concise, yet they pack a powerful punch. They capture the beauty and complexity of the natural world in just a few short lines. Shorewick is also a gifted photographer, and his work often features close-ups of plants and animals.
• T.M. Shorewick is a passionate advocate for the environment. His work often reflects his concern for the natural world. He is a member of several environmental organizations, and he has spoken out on behalf of environmental protection. Shorewick is also a teacher of haiku and photography, and he enjoys sharing his love of nature with others.

A wild lawn
And the beach
A pawn
Past reach

Yet tides
Spend
Energies
Which defend

Ever 
Changing
Never
Ebbing

Reality
Green grass
Oceanity
Land’s mass

It’s Lenape
Land
My deed
Says me
Or at least
Some bank does

The deer
Owls
Crows
And redtails
Carry on
With none of us

We are
Maybe were
Pests
Tolerated
Until
We recede

When 
Banks
Abandon land
I become Lenape
And deer
Are the overseer

I am Neptune
All you can see
Belongs to me
Except the dune

Upon which 
I lie
A ditch
Where I cry

With no sea
Between
Me
And eternity




The paw
Prints my
Obituary
Pshaw

The sand
Upholds
How grand
Life unfolds

The tide
Will seek
My ride
Oblique

And 
Accommodate
How sand
And I modulate

To erase
The end
But embrace
Tidal trend

A rabbit’s
Walking
Avoids a stalking
Inhibits

Any thought
Of glee
Being free
Only life sought

To reproduce
So the hop
Doesn't stop
On the loose

Before Brahms
There were Psalms
Giving me qualms
Sweaty palms

About origins
What begins
Lacking sins
On needle and pins

Why start
A beating heart
If art
Is a cart

That displays
Inlays
Of plays
In grays

Expression
Is the dimension
Realization
Fear’s expulsion

Is AI
A mortal sin
Akin
To a fly

Faking
Truth
Forsooth
Laughing

Fools
I'm stuck
In muck
Tools

I fly
No screen
Is mean
I get by

Does AI
Shift skin
Then begin
We die

Yes
AI started
Newly departed
Holy Mess

I could 
Have been
Prokofiev
When

I was 
Young
Everything
Hanging

Loose
No 
Dictator
Some shmo

Telling
Me what
Is passing
Squat

But society
Was stable
All groovy
Me unable

To 
Birth
Who
Has worth

So in peace
I sat
Prokofiev piece
That’s that

Is AI religion
Pushing belief
Just a smidgeon
Before grief

Yes we smile
And say Amen
All the while
Nor knowing when

It goes
Kerplunked
Life flows
Not debunked

I’m cogent
But uncertain
And intelligent
Of the final curtain

I perch
On a beach
I search
Within reach

Everything
I seek
Nothing
I speak

Is lost
My device
Tossed
A splice

Of reality
In sand
Geo-duality
So grand