iPoem · 5193.9750.796.211 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5193.9750.796.211 (no. 806,554) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 1:32 am
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