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The Ladder
My 2082 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 2082 Quatrains      or show all ranked
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Rank    
#781    It takes any-kind of steps.
Accounting-his "kind" of ring.
Deformed, you're not-to struggle.
All sad-days concern the Spring.
_

#782    Large man leaving movie theatre.
Pulling up his pleats.
Saying "there's that poor guy from that channel".
As he sees you choosing a seat.
_

#783    Richard Simmons so much more.
Weird-boots the Craven man.
Or smell or something I don't know.
When July-docks I'll understand.
_

#784    Because-I'm a baby.
Because I write on-and-on.
Because I taste for mountain soup.
The urge to copy-far is gone.
_

#785    The rut.
And the search for treasured gold.
Who can see further than their wife.
Yes. Eyesight is that old.
_

#786    Where is it sandy in the ocean.
In right hand to behold.
Hey Guy's! Don't be so tough.
Stay inside gets inside I'm told.
_

#787    Who knows where the good ones are.
With accolades dressed in thorns.
Explain the reason for re-use of boxing.
No passion when someone's born.
_

#788    That is just my way Howard.
I can finish the toys from lore.
It really is something big I can't let you study.
Two honey mints might war.
_

#789    I'm sorry we need more city timing.
Think months and months of that.
Happy go strange what is she wearing.
Listen and mention hat.
_

#790    With shadows from the pages between us.
I'm sorry about your ear.
I'll page myself often from the dance.
And just think about you there.
_

#791    I will almost "the almost start".
And trolley the almost wind.
My station is, whatever you've bought.
Much hope for when you grin.
_

#792    I used to love this stuff.
I mean "when oxygen is friendle-ing".
To hear it make the sound of thistles.
Babies in our jostle-ing.
_

#793    In the comfort zone this afternoon.
It always returns myself.
And sac's my freedom.
Sending it to someone else.
_

#794    Because there is a scholar.
As mission'd as the Queen's.
A prisoner.
To whom I "writhe" the seams.
_

#795    Plastic chips in goldman sacs.
Only hearts can hell.
Petty standings have heard the wishing.
Down with inner tells.
_

#796    Extra extra read "All about it Fears".
Sound will not yield a matching star.
Lint can vary news by up to 3 years.
A man is trying to grow moonbeams in a jar.
_

#797    Have you found the socks yet.
Yeah. Those band-aids for the soul.
In that river called the-washer.
A "lust" that strong I know.
_

#798    With headboards for such dreaming.
Such a climb it said.
Wakening for one moment.
That's radical screamed a thread.
_

#799    Gentlemen "man" your teacups.
Awesomeness must be fed.
And no one enters such a club.
Whom coffee burns instead.
_

#800    This man is genius. About things I want to know.
Like Cemetery fishing.
Big destinies. Dark Mittens. My corner. My kitchen.
flies within my bowl.
_

#801    Or some times a dog carrier.
Like so many things attached to horses.
So many arguments. And so much talking.
I want to thank all kitchen forces.
_

#802    And a vast machine, that the penny hogs.
Sleeping while I'm awake.
Is it a dance machine? Or a passion machine?
No one will see me wait.
_

#803    Waiting, listening and freezing.
For Gotcha Gotcha. Mouse.
Tonight the air is telling stories.
It's paradigm devout.
_

#804    Take a day like Tuesday for instance.
Strange how the clouds roll in.
Beach Restrictions bumping my nose.
Till Friday knights' her friend.
_

#805    Dogs have it home so long.
Tired in the gym as if that's the function of meat.
But I'm too old for exercise.
How I miss remembered heat.
_

#806    Yes "beyond" the "clock" is the giant door.
That I came back to see.
Elliptographs "in all directions".
Where do "they" sell such greed.
_

#807    Gentlemen awaken.
We "absolute" of name.
As-sane as hardly any left.
Salute "dog bowls" hold all same.
_

#808    Dilute belief there are scientists here.
I think Recklessness is here again.
Nine or One, also make good pets.
Just the rain old-fun.
_

#809    There are "signs" that "all" are equal sir.
Rover, Rover, Run.
I have the coordinates memorized sir.
Do we dare "define" what's fun.
_

#810    Discouragement.
Within the morning-pour.
Where avenues spell the words "one cup".
To those who read rain more.
_

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