iPoem · 2086.871.919.563 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 2086.871.919.563 (no. 804,564) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 5:41 pm
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