AI poem generator

Run on October 15, 2026: 5 inputs on 20 models, each with this tool's own instructions.

Write an original poem about this, with a title on the first line. Keep every name and detail in it. Write it as a sonnet.

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Learning to cook my mother's recipes after she moved away.

The Kitchen After You've Gone

The recipe card is written in your hand,
each note a small instructions map of home:
a pinch of this, remember, stir, don't rush
the roux until it turns the shade of dark amber.

I measure flour you never had to weigh,
your wrists remembering what mine must learn.
The phone rings late; you walk me through the stock,
your voice across the distance like the warmth
that used to fill the kitchen when we cooked
side by side, you chopping, me on stirring duty.

Now steam fogs windows in a stranger's town,
my pot holds something closer than the soup:
each time I get it right, I set a place
for you, and feed the distance with your taste.

Her Handwriting, My Stove

The card is spotted, softened at the fold,
her looping ink says "salt until it's right,"
and "onions slow," as she has always told.
I stand where she once stood, the kitchen light

thin on the sill. I cook alone, lifting each pot,
and let the onions hiss until they brown,
then taste, and add, and taste, and wonder what
she left out, the part she never wrote down.

Her town is four hours off, the cord, the phone.
She calls to hear the sizzle, hums a rhyme,
and laughs when garlic burns, "You're not alone."
Scrape off the black; the rest will do in time.

I plate two portions, set hers across from mine,
and eat the sauce she taught me, line by line.

1. Say what the poem is about, with a detail or a name if it's for someone. Up to 600 characters.

2. Pick the form, the mood and the language.

3. Press “Write the poem”. Without an account you see its first lines (1 free run a day, no account needed).

4. Signed in, read the whole poem and ask for another verse, a different ending or a new form.

• Give it a moment, not a topic

  Instead of “love”, give the poem a moment: “the first morning in our new flat, no curtains yet”. Specific subjects make specific poems.

• For someone? Add what they love

  For a birthday, a wedding or a retirement, add the person's name and two things only people who know them would recognise.

• Count the strict forms

  Haiku and sonnets are strict. Count the syllables or the lines; if one's off, ask for that line again rather than the whole poem.

• Read it aloud

  Read it aloud before you use it. Where you stumble, the rhythm is off; ask for that line to be smoother.

• The form's rules, kept

  A haiku is three lines of 5, 7 and 5 syllables; a limerick rhymes AABBA; a sonnet has fourteen lines. Count them: a poem that breaks its form's rules without meaning to reads as a mistake.

• Images, not labels

  “The kettle clicks off in the dark kitchen” says more than “I felt lonely”. The best lines are things you can see, hear or touch.

• Rhymes that don't strain

  Rhymes should land on words the sentence needed anyway. If a line twists itself to reach a rhyme, ask for free verse or a new rhyme.

• Your details, in it

  A name, a date, a place you gave should be in the poem. For an acrostic, read down the first letters: they should spell your word exactly.

• Without an account: 1 free run a day, on Claude Haiku 5.5, shared with the free message on our home page. It takes up to 600 characters, writes up to about 600 tokens (roughly 450 words), and shows you the start of the poem.

• Signing up is free, with an email link and no card. llmwise accounts are for people 18 and older. The poem you ran comes with you as your first chat, and you get 5 free messages on Claude Haiku 5.5.

• Signed in, the tool runs on the model you pick, on your plan, shows the whole answer, and you can carry on in the chat with any model, or ask another model the same thing.

More free tools are on the tools page, and what each plan gives is on pricing.