iPoem · 452.3250.412.449 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 452.3250.412.449 (no. 808,902) was generated on November 13, 2026 at 1:32 pm
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