I asked ChatGPT to generate a poem in the style of Tolkien, about someone learning to play Blues guitar. Pretty uncanny result…
In shadowed halls where echoes ring,
The bluesman’s strings begin to sing,
With silver steel and fingers worn,
A melody of night is born.
By moonlit stream and starlit fire,
He bends the notes, each wail grows higher,
A cry of sorrow, deep and wide,
Yet joy beneath, the pain implied.
His hand it strays, both bold and free,
Through winding paths of minor key,
In ancient woods the chords entwine,
With roots of oak and sacred vine.
And in that song of dusk and flame,
He finds the heart of ancient name,
A wizard’s spell in bending note,
The blues, the lore of men, remote.
