The Ele's Phant

As you know,
I've been writing a never-ending poem.  I've been doing quite well (in my opinion) and I'm quite close to the end of page twenty.  So at this point, it's nearly an ode.  Keep it up at this pace, and it'll become .. wait for it...wait for it...a really long poem.  Anyway, here's the most recent section.

Imagine:  What if the elephant lost its phant?
Would we call it ele forever,
And ever
And ever
Happily ever after?
Or would we set up a search party
Looking for the ele's phant
Looking in his trunk
And in his suitcase too
Looking under his foot
And under his yard tooo
Looking behind his ear
And behind his wheat too.

I have to go now.  I hope you liked it!

Infinity

My Inbox of Ideas
Is now overflowing with them, all begging to be used (use me! use me!  use me!)  In desperation, I had...you guessed it!  An idea to siphon off some ideas from that really tall stack of them.  My idea: a never-ending, making-no-sense poem!  Which, as I described, makes no sense, but it works.  I though I would give you some bits of the ten pages I've written (I'm assuming you don't want to read the whole thing).  Warning: this poem makes no sense.

[this section is from page 5 of my poem]
Dragons, serpents, and unicorns,
   Fawns (or saytiers) too.
Man and Goat,
  Not two, but one.
What fun!
  Great Griffins and-
I'm late for class!
  I really have to run and get there fast!

[this next section is from the very beginning of the poem]

Rules are stupid,

Don’t you think?

Writing and running,

And fixing a leak.

Rules rules rules.

Some rules are good ones,

That matter a lot.

But some are quite stupid,

About things that matter not.

Because you are silly as corn,

If you think poems must have specific form.

[this last bit is from page 10 and is one of my favorite sections, so I'll do the whole page]

What does blue sound like?

Many things actually.

It depends on who you are,

If you’re speaking factually.

For me it sounds of

Ice cracking,

Water splashing,

My dad complaining about his blues on Monday,

Hawaiian beach music on the wind,

And the silence of the early morning,

When you just can’t get back to sleep,

With the radio playing quietly,

The sky outside cobalt blue,

A pencil twixt your fingers,

Staring contest with wide-lined paper,

And a dash of exhilaration when you find

Just the right idea,

When it’s 4:30 and you don’t mind.

OR

When you get just the right book,

Where it was lurking hidden in a dusty corner

And there’s a warm windowsill in the quiet foyer.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.