Artificial Artist? The Unbelievable Accusation

In an age of pixels and digital grace,

I shared masterpieces, each with a face.

Dali's dreams, Chagall's flights, Raphael's divine skill,

Art that time cherishes, holding still.

 

But voices arose, in the cybernetic hall,

"AI's work, not human's," they began to call.

"A bot must be behind these classic displays,"

In the virtual world's ever-suspecting maze.

 

Then came the twist, absurdly sublime,

Accused of being AI, in this digital time.

"Surely, you're a bot, with such artistic flair,"

A claim so outlandish, I couldn't help but stare.

 

Oh, the laughter bubbles, from deep within,

At the thought of being silicon and tin.

Not a program or code, but flesh and bone,

Sharing the art from a human zone.

 

So here's to the irony, in this tech-spun plot,

A human accused of being a robot.

In a world where art spans past and now,

I remain a creator, humanly endowed.

 

© Susie Stiles-Wolf