iPoem · 2339.2309.572.659 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
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 2339.2309.572.659 (no. 805,579) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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