iPoem · 5307.8782.212.575 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 5307.8782.212.575 (no. 801,361) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 8:58 pm
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