iPoem · 2997.3730.414.839 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7a daring baron pockets precious Mings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 2997.3730.414.839 (no. 792,695) was generated on August 26, 2026 at 8:58 am
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