iPoem · 5193.313.833.380 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 5193.313.833.380 (no. 790,549) was generated on July 10, 2026 at 4:51 am
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