iPoem · 5082.8817.928.360 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 5082.8817.928.360 (no. 804,223) was generated on November 1, 2026 at 7:39 pm
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