iPoem · 5307.7313.236.342 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 5307.7313.236.342 (no. 793,682) was generated on September 12, 2026 at 7:39 pm
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