Original Palindromes Lacitebahpla

So near, one man I name, Nora: Enos.

Son, Asia pondered, now I wondered, no paisanos.

“Sonar, post Sopranos!”

Sonar possesses sopranos.

Sonar poseurs rue sopranos.

Sonar poses use sopranos.

Son, antihero nor iron ore hit nanos.

Son, a more Tibetan game: Estella, mewler rabid, I barrel, we mallet, see magnate bite Romanos.

So must a few drawers reward we fat sumos?

So, must a damsel bury my rubles, mad at sumos?

So mussel-gnawed art trades run, my gym-nursed art trade wangles sumos.

So, millionaire Glad lost it - sold Algerian oil, limos.

So, millionaire Bismarck, cram Siberian oil-limos!

So miled, I ride limos.

Sometimes moms emit emos.

So, metaverses rev at emos.

Some patisserie heiress: “I tap emos!”

So, men are (eh, Sheeran?) emos.

Some more z’s, so toss zero memos..!

Some Mom edits Asti demo memos.

Some modem telepaths in a Danish tape let me do memos.

Some model let Elle do memos.

Some meta-geneticists I cite negate memos.

So, memes use memos.

So, memes revert reverse memos.

So, memes net tense memos.

Some mere motel bibliotist never prevents it: oil bible to mere memos.

Some mere hero tore, here, memos.

Some men—it’s Ed ‘n’ Al—cremate tamer clandestine memos.

Some men (in time to jot) emit nine memos.