1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5524.2907.708.221 (no. 798,195) was generated on October 16, 2026 at 8:57 am
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