1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 7574.416.625.843 (no. 796,254) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 7:39 am
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