iPoem · 7313.6180.915.689 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 7313.6180.915.689 (no. 794,885) was generated on October 3, 2026 at 10:15 pm
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