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The Ladder
This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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#421 | And all the clocks that time forgot. And the hourglasses too. And start them all at once. To time my love for you. _ |
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#422 | I'm only drawing colors from pictures. Like the interesting much of yellow. So can I please love you, like a stammer. And live forever within more hello. _ |
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#423 | The sky looked for me like telescopes today. And somehow the evening won. I took great pains to hide my warmth. Yet I think it saw my shun. _ |
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#424 | The frog's way to pollute is very clever. An eerie low quiet no bog can jeer. Untill awake talkers become very peaceful. Then true tips of pine cones can steer. _ |
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#425 | Heart with proper direction finder. To find a way up every minute. Finding that positive so small. To steer by such goodness in it. _ |
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#426 | Test all watch a sunset. If none presenteth thee. Hearts but willed with unrest. Could point to one and see. _ |
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#427 | To live eight decades with no fun. And not rebound the leerable option. Like a weird judge behind a small room divider. I unfold love across my bench too often. _ |
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#428 | They like the thought of you so much. All my brain cells took a vote. They want to think of you everyday. So here's a poem they wrote. _ |
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#429 | Listen to your dreams. They call you accurate names. The billions of voices, searching for equals. Only call you games. _ |
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#430 | Around your toaster I hear things. Lovely is one such word. That goes on anything not yourself. How envious butter heard. _ |
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#431 | Well let's see if you count the sun. Then divide by a mist of stars. And put all atoms in a clockwise circle. I'm forty three cookie jars. _ |
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#432 | I wanted some alone time. I strapped myself to-your dream stairs. It started with, come on up. A diamond and what's in there. _ |
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#433 | Curse oh well the golden way. A million times wide and vast. It is the heart's most cruelest may. The mouth must open and ask. _ |
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#434 | Fish say hello. The same way a field of cotton tries. Happier in the evenings. Just before the test of eyes. _ |
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#435 | I love the time before morning. And the bird songs just before dawn. Words aren't mean before warming. And the sleeping are never wrong. _ |
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#436 | On the night I saw a faint Morse code. From far beyond a spider's thread. I discerned that signals carry power. Because power only carries dread. _ |
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#437 | Benny did-you eat the stairs. Where is that beetle in thee. It's called a waR-Mat. It's "terrible" tingles in me. _ |
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#438 | The greatest things there are to see. Are made visible by observations. The way the heavens own no light. Or return key constellations. _ |
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#439 | Sip. Do it again. Lie down. And bet some honey on that toaster. She-has inner-eyes this big, that hot measure. And we both know he will coaster. _ |
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#440 | A world that moves so fast outside. Tires a seek inside so slow. The anyway my idea escapes. My inner eye must go. _ |
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#441 | Does my inner candle. Cast shadows on my cell. Or does wind and castle. Cast shadows on my shell. _ |
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#442 | To know friends by their predicaments. All choices are beauty when froze. Standing farther than lonely beside them. As silence unblissed earning chose. _ |
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#443 | Try not to speak rice of America. The only way to go. Dancers in the blinding snow. The deep earth-anchored nightclub table woes. _ |
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#444 | I love our minds and how we think. And how thoughts are hills and wavy. But there's something missing I'm not sure what. Like perhaps there's not enough of maybe. _ |
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#445 | And all throughout thoughts I guessed so. Tired is-that sound most likely. That there must be enough traffic somewhere. That knows your character slightly. _ |
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#446 | Without pressure only desire. Is there such an iron forged. Refined by never known admire. Steel bars my mind calls yours. _ |
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#447 | No deal nor should has yet impede. What is swirled by the power of wants. As rhymely small as the heard indeed. Is the unstoppable returned response. _ |
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#448 | But I was old. And by glimmers named. We only say good morning. On thought rivers tamed. _ |
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#449 | To-learn to speak, don't ask any questions. Like how Friday "has" a special message tone. Where castles have a place for rusted-bicycles. She stops feeling well by phone. _ |
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#450 | We must've. But i didn't inform them. Left leg? What is that? Is that anything like a state. Actually you are doing something. But I won't. We have less than seconds to gate. _ |
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home = www.epicdewfall.ca
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