iPoem · 7453.1345.529.399 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 7453.1345.529.399 (no. 809,546) was generated on November 15, 2026 at 7:33 am
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