So I asked ChatGPT to write a poem about the Jets and our best players, in iambic pentameter.
The result:
With Ehlers' speed, and Schiefele's hand,
The Jets take flight, across the land.
Connor, fierce, with shots so true,
A force to be reckoned, in the Jets' blue.
Hellebuyck, between the pipes he stands,
Defending Jets' goal, with steady hands.
And Morrissey, strong and steady too,
He anchors the defense, the team's backbone through and through.
With these five stars, the Jets take flight,
Their skills and grit, a fearsome sight.
For Winnipeg, they'll always play,
With hearts of champions, every day.
The Stanley Cup, the ultimate prize,
The Jets will fight, with all their might.
To raise it high, in victory,
For Winnipeg, a glorious sight to see.
So let us raise our voices high,
For Ehlers, Schiefele, Connor, Hellebuyck,
Morrissey and the Cup our pride.
The Jets are here to stay,
With victory, their ultimate goal to lock.
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Then I asked it to write a villanelle about the Leafs' losing ways:
The Leafs from Toronto, once so grand,
But now a joke, across the land.
First round exits, year after year,
Their drought, the longest, without a peer.
Though many seasons come and go,
The Leafs still fail to make it so,
To lift the Cup and hear the cheers,
Despite the media's fawning leers.
They've got the talent, that's for sure,
But something's missing, that's the lure.
Perhaps the Cup, it's not meant to be,
For Leafs in Toronto, eternally.
Though Leafs fans hope, and pray and wait,
For the day, their team will dominate.
But years go by, and still they lose,
Their Cup drought, forever to choose.