iPoem · 2453.192.928.568 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 2453.192.928.568 (no. 808,236) was generated on November 11, 2026 at 5:32 pm
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