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
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 5049.495.830.498 (no. 798,892) was generated on October 18, 2026 at 5:02 am
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