iPoem · 2687.6958.295.329 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 2687.6958.295.329 (no. 790,521) was generated on July 9, 2026 at 7:23 am
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