1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 7549.809.280.819 (no. 800,660) was generated on October 23, 2026 at 12:32 am
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