iPoem · 7031.6710.785.107 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

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

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 7031.6710.785.107 (no. 794,597) was generated on September 27, 2026 at 10:29 pm
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