1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 5719.726.725.495 (no. 802,101) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 9:37 pm
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.220
iPoem number reference:
5719.726.725.495
  (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