1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown
5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave
9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce
12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum
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 5042.2987.265.755 (no. 806,818) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 6:04 pm
→ voir
version originale |
create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase
‹ ‹ bwd
← OPEN dataBase
ip number reference:
216.73.216.170
iPoem number reference:
5042.2987.265.755
(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.