1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 7972.6193.460.759 (no. 799,950) was generated on October 21, 2026 at 2:06 am
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