1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5755.5865.961.559 (no. 798,031) was generated on October 15, 2026 at 10:00 pm
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.128
iPoem number reference:
5755.5865.961.559
  (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