iPoem · 5644.2755.239.873 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5644.2755.239.873 (no. 789,581) was generated on June 17, 2026 at 12:04 pm
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