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The Ladder
My 2175 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 2175 Quatrains      or show all ranked
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Rank    
#901    First stop on our tour, I forget his name.
What I do know is the guy just sat there.
As we went passed our poor, and their histories cornered.
Something about pretty women normaled.
_

#902    Go sadly.
So-that the "forth-night" might hear.
I created the table for you.
Little plastic mines, suspect clear.
_

#903    If I could choose a distance.
For me to you by floor.
I'd measure out for instants.
Then fill the space with sure.
_

#904    And bubbles make no potion.
I ran the light! Fire steer!
Have you ever heard of Mange.
I row to eradicate, only a guy out there.
_

#905    Toss a boat.
Any one can here.
Scribble is a function.
Capsize the pen cap beer.
_

#906    A woman looking upward.
And explaining the green leaf below her eye.
It's for when a man loves inner nature.
And never moves for wind or why.
_

#907    Here's a good river, for your put forth motions.
At great new levels and very moist.
How much faster should strangers conference.
Before cut in shy levels feel out voiced.
_

#908    Watching the progress bar.
Why are you so nice to me.
Tummy erased erasion!
Of me they cannot see.
_

#909    We still get blocked everyday.
We'll need sand around the trust.
Everybody needs to know their stuff.
Ambitions please but tough.
_

#910    A man looking into stove oven tossing food behind him.
Saying "and now it's time for the real heat".
A universe liking improvements.
Including nude descending a wrong way street.
_

#911    It must be some kind of sight.
The mirror does not see.
Hung above the cradles pen.
I'm blaming me I'm we.
_

#912    Freakin sand. Like lovers lust.
Not going to happen here.
Waiting for just, the right moment.
Soft-rocks at nightmares-ear.
_

#913    Gas and copper cutters.
And an entry zone for needs.
For the problem. We "are" rehiring.
Hoping sand at neck recedes.
_

#914    Lots of still quiet quotes.
Eastern "standard time" to close.
Why is someone "else so" dear.
I must have-given her my prose.
_

#915    At issue an issue is the cause of itself.
I will not let me speak the word friends.
Like richness defined by unspoken wealths.
Let us talk of the morning wrens.
_

#916    I'm going to leave you standing up.
But I can't remember my thumbs.
So I'll try remembering my fingers.
As the "I've got money again" alarm-hums.
_

#917    There's poetry rising on the albatross stage.
On the next clear what men want croon phase.
If the cloudless blush upon two palm trees.
Turns away her milky ways.
_

#918    Well we're not there yet.
But it's an interesting thing to do.
He self-gets!
So he's right to feel, guilty too.
_

#919    I'm kind of saving that for less.
My oldest toast for some the fearless.
That a slight might slow the laughter.
Enough to learn by tearless.
_

#920    Throw those pants in the air.
Where the red can't sting.
But not for telling nature.
It's my turn for such things!
_

#921    I always do, go out well.
And I bring home, whole store freezers.
You see, everything, is not so wrong.
Well, just cereals! The height of teasers.
_

#922    I think I might need a few more tears.
At night, so I'll have to go home.
But something always comes along.
And as always a question's known.
_

#923    Like two months or any of them.
The trees are like the sea.
And that is how I'm kind to them.
Flag that never thinks of me.
_

#924    Two tenants discussing door to 5th floor's railless baloney.
Resulting in fearful one hanging by string.
Sleep long hours and rest before peace.
Our war against auto-correct begins.
_

#925    I'm back in town. So I'm back on ice.
So maybe I'll brunch once or twice.
How much does that hurt, being nice?
Oh I don't know. Well perhaps a slice.
_

#926    Man with deformed arm.
On cloud not-reaching down for luck.
Busy-river hung sideways.
Mature-Woman not reaching up.
_

#927    House guest with hands in pockets.
Stepping forward too shy-to-say.
Roses are the same you know.
Adding stealth that way.
_

#928    The hands of man and woman.
Exchanging fishbone keys.
Front of house lasting only.
Both sides with mailbox-bees.
_

#929    Man in dark in his apartment.
Pretending that he's a lamp.
Woman inspecting ashtrays.
To see if he is a champ.
_

#930    A Bird supplying saliva.
An elephant being-shocked.
By electricity from a theatre.
Turning away unwatched.
_

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