1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 5634.5290.559.609 (no. 803,349) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 9:36 am
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.111
iPoem number reference:
5634.5290.559.609
  (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