iPoem · 7847.7798.468.165 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 7847.7798.468.165 (no. 791,531) was generated on July 31, 2026 at 10:24 am
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