iPoem · 7094.5995.626.140 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 7094.5995.626.140 (no. 789,446) was generated on June 14, 2026 at 5:44 am
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