1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 5043.550.78.751 (no. 801,217) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 11:52 am
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.220
iPoem number reference:
5043.550.78.751
  (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