iPoem · 5022.628.23.245 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
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

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 5022.628.23.245 (no. 798,514) was generated on October 17, 2026 at 4:45 am
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