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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    
#691    Anti-aging blistery morn.
Shoes not matching norm.
England does not march on Sunday.
Rally fortune's poem.
_

#692    Soak in oil for the winter.
The, like not having some.
Cross your legs and tea some bitter.
And confirm the winnings won.
_

#693    A professional is a person.
That dreams for others well.
While sleeping think so slowly.
For solutions they can sell.
_

#694    Design a sink, make it gold.
Newspapers can you, flow of this.
Fill with wealth, and had behold.
And in a diner, make her wish.
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#695    Hum every object you've seen on television.
Ends in a landfill site someday.
And if you've heard humanity's wishing well.
You can almost commend each sway.
_

#696    You're all hot compare I was.
The penalty of, Despair.
McGrewgan light night delight.
Upset dearest so, rare.
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#697    Indiscernible fluctuations or massive fluctuations.
Just how should I adjust world scope.
If I aim my dreams towards wind devils.
Should I report that I preferred to cope.
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#698    Rest oh wind that carries sin.
And fear what the heart calls merrier.
The 4 am pen must have no friend.
Or the treason of a window's barrier.
_

#699    Noise where vegetables knock for game.
Hunger team ease your train.
Drop not, stock of thought.
Rewind be kind oh rain.
_

#700    That's the one! Hidden peace.
Wake the November sure.
The mighty SL! in my heart.
Come into, in-my-store.
_

#701    How do you know where the rivers go.
In the conscience of a dancer.
How do you know where the electrons go.
In the search for the never answer.
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#702    Thanks to electronic "names".
I'm seeing it's label face.
The worst "art" of unfiltered-news.
The dark shadows that we taste.
_

#703    My soldier and my warrior.
Are friends in their old age.
Though oddly, cafe table choosing.
Remains the warrior's forte.
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#704    That could mean.
A dust, like angry sky.
I wonder where the yellow went?
I told you Byron lied.
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#705    It's so upsetting! Do come in.
I'm trying to rearrange the door.
And stack the angles, in a heap.
The good of any-more.
_

#706    I love that!
The same way, velvet felt, was rhyme.
And doctors yet so numb I'm sure.
Could repair a verse of mine.
_

#707    And the stimulation will never fall.
And no more than needed ever tall.
To make an evening a warm must end.
And normal must stall to make a friend.
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#708    Twice daily rascals!
Phone for backup sweeps.
One unbutton! Two unbutton!
Three, alert the meeks!
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#709    What did I say?
The lion gate's the same!
BRAIN, don't say it!
So near a velvet tame.
_

#710    It's dark in here!
And no time has ever known.
Pass the buttercup, and some mind!
Cameras are dead in Rome.
_

#711    Dandelion are still alive!
And forgetful as repose.
Making up, such a heaven.
I know! I know! I know!
_

#712    With practicing license.
And a desert known as place.
Emily, for the heaven.
And Byron for the waste.
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#713    Count them, six more givings!
The songs that living chose.
No one ever, invents a light bulb.
That doesn't know what shows.
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#714    The spiders dance in Neptune's horror.
Where passwords forget their pain.
Excuse me do you accept Visa here?
Earth is-my home again.
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#715    For love of time or money.
A river should be, so bold.
Ticker tape, or funny.
And suggestion, just as old.
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#716    After grabbing the nearest vest or cloak.
On the way to the test of steam.
On behalf of all the best use for hopes.
Can you tell me what each career cleans.
_

#717    An imagined slow leak in an air mattress.
Feels the same as a real one theres.
Exactly the same way falling in love.
Knows that real time disappears.
_

#718    With wrong for heavy, and light for rain.
Who knows where dancing goes?
Perhaps. The very first hiding spot?
Beneath the yellow rose!
_

#719    But I'm a statue! Hear me not.
Demure has no disclose.
Except to say, just one thought.
Five broom sweeps, and one pose.
_

#720    If we spoke by colors only.
Oh what things we'd say.
But our world is hurt by thrown glee.
So my favorite color is gray.
_

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