iPoem · 3023.8791.10.158 · Cent mille milliards

1At five precisely out went La Marquise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 3023.8791.10.158 (no. 797,533) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 1:48 pm
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