iPoem · 7050.193.648.577 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 7050.193.648.577 (no. 794,660) was generated on September 29, 2026 at 5:06 pm
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