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The Ladder
My 2352 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 2352 Quatrains      or show all ranked
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Rank    
#871    Deep-woman thinking.
While a tiny shy hand reaches.
Out from the years it "proudly" slept.
Oddly just, to touch her neck.
_

#872    Beta fences. I'll put them higher.
That she should work so hard.
Here's my name. Read it feeling stumped.
Society's own-card.
_

#873    For seventy thousand dollars.
I'll kindly hook it up.
That's the one I gave her.
This brittle paved good luck.
_

#874    I'm assuming there are back-stories.
At least I think there are.
We'll have to start counting what-becomes.
Apologies attempting far.
_

#875    Have you read any magazines.
This time we'll need much more.
One fingerprint.
When I'm down to house good ore.
_

#876    Nice bathroom. Clean kitchen.
Moratoriums are made this way.
Rising above the tractor.
With hinterland in the way.
_

#877    Like a cueball scratches. After being mentioned.
By advertisements on the table.
That's cue speed fifty three.
The speed a shadow finds a mansion.
_

#878    A woman searching cupboards.
Her house And vast loved land.
Shadow "of man cloud" holding coffee.
Overcast moving bland.
_

#879    Ha! It was a laugh at seven.
That meanness, mountains crane.
Constructing nodes of valuation.
That, altitudes disdain.
_

#880    Yes seeing is another problem.
The open-air keeps talking with combat-range.
So I'm sending you a pen. Did you receive it?
Yes left to right. It moves that way.
_

#881    Breathe again and live again.
The shortcut to the fin.
Dark-towards hunter-nights.
The Savannah pushed within.
_

#882    Shoe the cobra. Cue the din.
That, lobsters never meet.
Bubbles like the sands of time.
Dreaming angels to a street.
_

#883    Torment bay, my little friend.
So small as look outside.
Where, lightning on one finger tip.
Has more within than shy.
_

#884    Framework, looks good on you.
Though, do-not forget the rains.
For deserts only never knock.
Until a light switch gains.
_

#885    A single playing card in a void.
Illustrating favorite things.
A mind missing fifty one cards.
And the wisdom that game brings.
_

#886    Crumple up, all years be friends.
Across one-page of climb.
FedEx in-betweens the mountains.
And mere decimals are only fine.
_

#887    People holding paintings stolen from people beside them.
Showing what they would like to be.
On that grid where all good art lives.
You can phone the less of me.
_

#888    But reciprocations are just as steep.
For two who sound like rhyme.
Have you ever tried to be so deep.
No thrill found you to climb.
_

#889    The greatest gift to give yourself.
Is nondysfunctionality.
What you say is your finest wealth.
I'm in love with your polarity.
_

#890    You should know I fear fast words like static.
So we should probably speak like storms.
The same way mammals discussing their feeling.
Honk their moan two horns.
_

#891    We need it bad. I guess we do-but only halfway.
We'll be the first-one's to ever smoke. We'll
get to know each other. And call it the finger
option. Oh, and our home we can call the ashtray.
_

#892    Gold and yellow and Whittaker sir.
And not less than a perfect ten.
Ouch a friend.
The hanging upside down boxer's den.
_

#893    A few dark clothes and beverages.
For the experimental king.
Trying to mine for mind again-
Some space, and resign to pen.
_

#894    Bold as even writing sins.
As much as heaven has no eyes.
And statement onward delivers "light".
Afterwards the meanest prize.
_

#895    And underlings.
Let's re-coast the shore.
To em-pass, the decadence.
And remind the floor.
_

#896    There were many deep valleys, with some parts flat.
Holly, you need to be brilliant right now. Is that him?
Can you identify him, with masks on his feet?
No, the prettiest moon had more shine than that.
_

#897    And including all our muscles.
Please visitor do come in.
Wild-blueberries and the hush inside.
Onward let the trusts begin.
_

#898    And how-has your music deserved such wine.
The big guy at your work defines.
Occasionally de-boarding, without stopping.
To begin the slips on time.
_

#899    And an empty Sudan from your mother.
From her Serengeti tray.
How many fingers are on the numbers.
That can lift the March that way.
_

#900    Man angry too much belittling. Makes his baseball too small.
Enough to slip through each-morning. A batting cage linked-wall.
Man waking up needing. To roll out of harm's way.
From traffic until full-body bandages. Fall off for that day.
_

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