iPoem · 2477.190.648.598 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 2477.190.648.598 (no. 793,689) was generated on September 12, 2026 at 8:46 pm
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