iPoem · 5351.6766.684.581 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 5351.6766.684.581 (no. 791,841) was generated on August 7, 2026 at 6:05 am
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