iPoem · 7341.5905.669.248 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 7341.5905.669.248 (no. 789,346) was generated on June 11, 2026 at 11:40 pm
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