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The Ladder
My 2265 Quatrains Ranked by Your Votes (the results)

This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as
votes are contributed. A poem migrates up the ladder in rank one step if it
wins a vote, and migrates down the ladder in rank one step if it looses a vote.


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Search My 2265 Quatrains      or show all ranked
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Rank    
#451    Basically within five minutes.
I'm this excited, about sand.
And then I hear it, "five blocks London".
Her "washing machine" cursing man.
_

#452    Make sure you take your mind off the computer.
A zero command no one can understand.
Then find a jerk, that you like. And tell us about it's boot.
And how it's "math-dreams end up." Hidden in the mute.
_

#453    Too soft. And too brave. As dried up sand.
Her first novel; Is Rain as Coat as Date?
It seems whenever she's done, talking with me.
Nothing ever, comes from where I wait.
_

#454    Heart with proper direction finder.
To find a way up every minute.
Finding that positive so small.
To steer by such goodness in it.
_

#455    Test all watch a sunset.
If none presenteth thee.
Hearts but willed with unrest.
Could point to one and see.
_

#456    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.
_

#457    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.
_

#458    Listen to your dreams.
They call you accurate names.
The billions of voices, searching for equals.
Only call you games.
_

#459    Around your toaster I hear things.
Lovely is one such word.
That goes on anything not yourself.
How envious butter heard.
_

#460    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.
_

#461    A very well rested frog on a rock.
Who has never needed to look upward.
Studying mysteries of the brook he is reading.
Kind of like feeding supper.
_

#462    Why are there no cars here?
Am I facedown because of my tune?
Why are frogs, never lonely?
And why are there lakes on my moon?
_

#463    Why are there "pressures" to try for?
Why do clouds seem like concrete blocks?
And why does it rain every Saturday?
Is it because-sometimes I'm a rock?
_

#464    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.
_

#465    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.
_

#466    Fish say hello.
The same way a field of cotton tries.
Happier in the evenings.
Just before the test of eyes.
_

#467    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.
_

#468    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.
_

#469    Benny did-you eat the stairs.
Where is that beetle in thee.
It's called a waR-Mat.
It's "terrible" tingles in me.
_

#470    The greatest things there are to see.
Are made visible by observations.
The way the heavens own no light.
Or return key constellations.
_

#471    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.
_

#472    A world that moves so fast outside.
Tires a seek inside so slow.
The anyway my idea escapes.
My inner eye must go.
_

#473    Does my inner candle.
Cast shadows on my cell.
Or does wind and castle.
Cast shadows on my shell.
_

#474    To know friends by their predicaments.
All choices are beauty when froze.
Standing farther than lonely beside them.
As silence unblissed earning chose.
_

#475    Try not to speak rice of America.
The only way to go.
Dancers in the blinding snow.
The deep earth-anchored nightclub table woes.
_

#476    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.
_

#477    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.
_

#478    Without pressure only desire.
Is there such an iron forged.
Refined by never known admire.
Steel bars my mind calls yours.
_

#479    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.
_

#480    But I was old.
And by glimmers named.
We only say good morning.
On thought rivers tamed.
_

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