iPoem · 5727.6917.785.898 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 5727.6917.785.898 (no. 789,003) was generated on June 8, 2026 at 11:50 am
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