iPoem · 2443.3915.342.549 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
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 2443.3915.342.549 (no. 793,763) was generated on September 13, 2026 at 8:33 pm
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