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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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#1741    For I am one, and little grown.
As statue as my preening.
At lest, great heavens, having havens.
Can magic inbetweening.
_
#1742    Go dielectric! Or go to a show.
But push away the drab.
Sundance bears a special meaning.
At nodancing science lab.
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#1743    Councillors for all the winners!
Professionals through the snow!
Nice degrees at eleven.
That is news, advantage knows.
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#1744    I am love and I am gold.
But which one please's best.
Hollywood floors, under carpets.
That become the hidden test.
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#1745    Clients and a shovel!
Nurse! Fetch my costume old!
Weary being the only illness.
No mask can keep untold.
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#1746    Sinister or happy cravings.
Why thus are shoes your team.
Over caverns like a torment.
Where witness was a stream.
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#1747    Dopamine! Yes how clever.
Radical! Until send.
How to make a million nevers.
Outside a self made pen.
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#1748    Cocooning, never drew such rapture!
Like the bumblebee might sing.
Dog! Oh how, needs a pasture.
How gold should be that ring.
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#1749    Fine or flat, toss a coin.
For how could stone be both.
Like reeds elude the depths of mind.
There! It feeds an oath.
_
#1750    So that's what we're going to do.
The agreed upon price, is on its way.
After, "straight" inventory.
Ok-pyjamas-away.
_
#1751    But I don't want to do this.
Such discouragement, and-handle-packed.
Your blinkers are so distracting.
One "Saab" and I'm in-fact.
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#1752    Make it official and so dark.
I'm set for Santa Claus please.
I'm so glad I "invented" you.
I mean "invited". (coffee cream)
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#1753    Why don't we stop here then.
And kiss me on the nose.
Eight-percent is plenty.
How much "does" my "placard" show.
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#1754    Blow her some tobacco.
Delight in all her fame.
Round numbers like two Cadillacs.
Odd numbers like her drain.
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#1755    I was the hottest one.
My name was your Darlene.
Right above my "turpentine".
Gold watch to my obscene.
_
#1756    And all these little rants.
"Indicative" I think's the word.
They're verbose and everywhere!
Nine tells your window heard.
_
#1757    "Hey! You have ghosts."
"Father Frances" and "Liechtenstein".
I checked them for discretion.
They're speechless, half the time.
_
#1758    Please be sheets or diamonds.
A chance to flip or flop.
Morose or just good-morning.
I have to heat two clocks.
_
#1759    "Plain" for over there.
Lift her head up "sane".
Hey is that your mother.
That's "why" I'm tired "again".
_
#1760    There's some "engine" over left?
Enough to bill for flop.
Does-time see so indifferently.
Depending on which sock.
_
#1761    Happy Avenue-"versity" dear.
I believe this is your tie.
Once-supported, always Naples.
For melting down goodbye.
_
#1762    Bicycles have no dangers.
That never go outside.
Handles are for "drawer thieves".
I'm "sadly" not that guy.
_
#1763    Over sanctions, over smiles.
Famous raisins for two hundred please.
Goodbye paper, goodbye overture.
What parchment ever remembers trees.
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#1764    Where the tailgaters fear the future.
And those tailgated fear the past.
Where a time line is a point in space.
And the mind's eye goes to ask.
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#1765    Where elephant stacking reaches the usual limit.
The good of any copy looms.
Near the fear of what it might be like.
If man understood cartoons.
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#1766    With neutral under dig-it in!
And rise against the clock.
Hampton road must now-await.
The slowest search for sock.
_
#1767    How far do vibrations go.
From wrongs so non or tall.
To stand beside a nebula.
Or was the mood that small.
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#1768    Head only of man in a computer chair.
With a ten foot high backing oath.
There where a man can never steer.
I'm expecting substantial growth.
_
#1769    A flat faced man in a bed.
His features like a rubber mask.
Thinking about two women on a tundra.
Is worth so much to ask.
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#1770    If there was such a thing as a shallow dream.
Could there also be a shadowed task.
No, tea would be a crowded heaven.
If any man could ask.
_
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