iPoem · 5501.5173.870.451 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
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 5501.5173.870.451 (no. 807,342) was generated on November 9, 2026 at 6:46 am
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