iPoem · 7952.6923.792.961 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 7952.6923.792.961 (no. 806,266) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 9:39 am
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