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The Ladder
My 2166 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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Rank    
#1021    I know you have responsibilities.
And lots, and lots, of boundaries.
With everything being so crazy.
And a lifetime of only flounderings.
_

#1022    Save-me to-say with sufficient tonnage.
"I've got your Nickel right here someplace".
Don't worry. I didn't care.
Oh no! What's wrong? Thankyou open-space.
_

#1023    But oh, I wanted to show you, while we're here.
"That it is all" just sand again!
Come on! Show and tell, this "Table".
To Hooters and Winners now. Atom number ten.
_

#1024    But now I know you're not telling the truth!
So that's "his ankle" in water, right?
Raise your arms but don't get up.
Now I'll sleep on it tonight.
_

#1025    Nah! nah! Any ashes would just fly by us now!
By "March Madness", or maybe dawn.
Everything is dry under a web.
So safely we'll move on.
_

#1026    All-right. Ok. "Don't forget your name".
Beer spots? Ok, don't forget-those.
They're filling and taste good.
And like wine becomes the nose.
_

#1027    I really wonder how Jennifer is doing?
Or going-to be while-we are gone.
She'll be guarding her lisp with pigeons.
At least I'm hoping so with such song.
_

#1028    And how eccentric.
As sane as that rabbit runs.
At peace I see where she went wrong "playing toaster".
Bet on black this time dear fun.
_

#1029    In that-sense government is merciless.
Across the boards with waves that high.
Glue me to a second dance.
And surf me to that dry.
_

#1030    Is that disrespectful.
I can't play any melody on her-ankle.
Respectfully dear Miss Thompson.
I must decline but I am thankful.
_

#1031    From the heart it explodes.
Whistle and all tone.
Try not to make an inner scene.
Measure honesty ride back home.
_

#1032    Look at you at "live poetry".
And a guess that "sand is sand".
To be a very-hungry supper head.
Frozen to that land.
_

#1033    There's no digging glacier though.
The latter never needs your watering.
French theory has cursed the mold of me.
That's mature pottering.
_

#1034    He came over-here instead.
Across smooth oceans like no bird.
Just a puddle to a Jedi.
To Alison with one word.
_

#1035    His eyes with "brights" on forgotten.
His hands trained in the art of texting.
Graceful at "stepping" on "how about you".
Thrown "from" the days of nesting.
_

#1036    That's an "inner-net" called "Annette".
With apple trees like their own shadow's core.
Seems in here I never complain.
Price "leaving" pronouns poor.
_

#1037    Just sit quietly for flights to-the right.
Where strangers and their grace are young.
To be what we write of our saddest slights.
A Hotel Chelsea England won.
_

#1038    Where I was trained to catch all laughs of fireflies.
And sword what they shouldn't tell me.
It's definite they are "Las Vegas fast".
One summertime is worth "how much he'll ask".
_

#1039    Each one has her-name "printed on it".
I'm hoping safely both odd and "evening".
Walking through her-beaded curtain.
Betting it all "on Forstall" for leaving.
_

#1040    A man only needs a few good years.
Dorothy and her Renoir mind.
How else would we predict a world.
Inspiration please be my girl.
_

#1041    I'm currently out of "dark fireflies" Ma'am.
Renoir bought them all last year.
But do come in and we'll talk.
That's Anxiety. He has tears.
_

#1042    Some spare thoughts like "when we dream".
Do chest hairs fall "anymore" than autumn's cost?
Do hopes for bargaining use "elastic" speeds?
Can a bet on anybody "land" on spring-back needs?
_

#1043    Cold hands, if you've watched the 70's.
You have to dig it out from stealth.
Why can't she say "this to me".
That she is angry at nostalgia health.
_

#1044    The answer is a wish for Mom.
May she have a clock like muck.
With Lego-love for Lego-Hands.
And Lego-Shoes that stick too much.
_

#1045    He had truth, right in his arms?
At least I'm hoping it was fair.
And that is his hollow suit with charms.
Like any man with London hair.
_

#1046    But-just how do-we get there?
I mean that storm when we were all surprised?
Where the "Hello I like your Bow-Tie"!
Becomes the only thing that almost dies.
_

#1047    And on that beach. A crazy rider.
Now mix-some-brown in there.
Money men finding it most disturbing.
That we fly so fast up here.
_

#1048    So let us look upon tomorrow.
And create a wish within.
The true diamond, is no-sorrow.
Nothing-else-rhymes with "win".
_

#1049    But now I know you're just being funny.
You truly en-snared those noises?
On Thursday's, or so you say?
That demon runs are choices.
_

#1050    Let me line it up for you.
The same way we sit right here.
To devastate the church again.
Men are whispered air.
_

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