iPoem · 5650.975.788.201 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 5650.975.788.201 (no. 808,647) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 8:49 pm
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