iPoem · 5392.9708.732.759 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5392.9708.732.759 (no. 803,618) was generated on October 31, 2026 at 2:38 am
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