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
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 7158.94.243.831 (no. 807,087) was generated on November 8, 2026 at 12:54 pm
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