iPoem · 7154.2478.973.285 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 7154.2478.973.285 (no. 796,272) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 8:55 am
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