iPoem · 7046.6318.429.706 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 7046.6318.429.706 (no. 797,822) was generated on October 15, 2026 at 8:42 am
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