1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 5037.2789.153.821 (no. 808,180) was generated on November 11, 2026 at 1:49 pm
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.87
iPoem number reference:
5037.2789.153.821
  (dataBase)
Disclaimer: This website uses a temporary session cookie only; no persistent cookies are stored. As part of the 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem project, your IP address becomes one element in the generation of a unique poem among countless possibilities. The information is collected solely for the conceptual purposes of the artwork and is not used to identify you personally.
Okay – I got it – Close