1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 7133.8407.276.835 (no. 808,588) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 4:37 pm
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