iPoem · 5319.6150.492.319 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5319.6150.492.319 (no. 800,504) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 2:44 pm
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