iPoem · 7592.1970.237.79 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 7592.1970.237.79 (no. 800,630) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 10:44 pm
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