1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5593.2335.938.803 (no. 798,422) was generated on October 16, 2026 at 10:05 pm
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.153
iPoem number reference:
5593.2335.938.803
  (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