iPoem · 4014.9361.562.361 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 4014.9361.562.361 (no. 792,931) was generated on August 31, 2026 at 7:47 pm
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