iPoem · 301.5965.515.546 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 301.5965.515.546 (no. 796,405) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 5:42 pm
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