iPoem · 2072.8963.99.727 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 2072.8963.99.727 (no. 803,723) was generated on October 31, 2026 at 10:03 am
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