iPoem · 5511.6605.222.551 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
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 5511.6605.222.551 (no. 796,953) was generated on October 13, 2026 at 4:51 am
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