iPoem · 7357.2194.218.498 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 7357.2194.218.498 (no. 799,556) was generated on October 19, 2026 at 11:53 pm
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