iPoem · 5383.9154.232.111 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5383.9154.232.111 (no. 789,768) was generated on June 22, 2026 at 3:27 am
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