iPoem · 4022.2950.429.855 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 4022.2950.429.855 (no. 808,115) was generated on November 11, 2026 at 9:38 am
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