iPoem · 2594.5814.533.309 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 2594.5814.533.309 (no. 797,226) was generated on October 13, 2026 at 8:08 pm
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