iPoem · 2593.659.268.635 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 2593.659.268.635 (no. 797,313) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 1:48 am
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