More silliness.
Q: write a poem about children with chicken pox in iambic pentameter
A:
With spots upon their skin, the children lay
In misery, all through the night and day
Their itching skin a curse, their fever high
They moan and groan, and often let out a sigh
Their parents try to soothe them as they shake
With Calamine lotion, the spots they make
A paste, to give the children some relief
But still, the pox brings nothing but grief
They cannot go to school, nor play with friends
But must stay home, until the pox ends
They watch their classmates through the window pane
And wish that they could join them in the game
But soon enough, the pox will disappear
And they will be as healthy as before
So let us all have patience and some cheer
For these poor children, who are sick and sore
Q: write a poem about children with chicken pox in iambic pentameter
A:
With spots upon their skin, the children lay
In misery, all through the night and day
Their itching skin a curse, their fever high
They moan and groan, and often let out a sigh
Their parents try to soothe them as they shake
With Calamine lotion, the spots they make
A paste, to give the children some relief
But still, the pox brings nothing but grief
They cannot go to school, nor play with friends
But must stay home, until the pox ends
They watch their classmates through the window pane
And wish that they could join them in the game
But soon enough, the pox will disappear
And they will be as healthy as before
So let us all have patience and some cheer
For these poor children, who are sick and sore