1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
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 5957.2166.522.809 (no. 805,804) was generated on November 5, 2026 at 5:38 am
→ voir version originale | create new iPoem
→ navigate in dataBase ‹ ‹ bwd | fwd › ›

← OPEN dataBase

ip number reference:
216.73.216.67
iPoem number reference:
5957.2166.522.809
  (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