iPoem · 1434.6575.572.149 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 1434.6575.572.149 (no. 791,630) was generated on August 2, 2026 at 7:27 pm
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