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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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#1861    For in it's way a voice is not.
Just as thought is yet so lonely.
A word that rises to be heard.
Was wise as once known only.
_

#1862    First a coffee shop.
Then majestic wolves and horses.
Third a frog in a protective cage.
Then unknown snakes and forces.
_

#1863    A man with no musical talent returning.
An instrument packed in meat to a music class.
His cartoon character front saying meekly.
Known reality hears his beeps but laughs.
_

#1864    Now look closer but not too near.
Do you see the thoughts in thirds.
Do not judge the drivers harshly.
But can you see the speed of words.
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#1865    A contract laborer working hard.
At painting the sky blue for Michael Jackson.
Knowing the balance and focal point.
Showing the art of inaction.
_

#1866    Two women large and small.
Watching man locked inside a santa suit.
To only want to do what's right.
Women with keys to laughter mute.
_

#1867    Then one day through ultimate science.
We heard the sun speak loud.
Your garbage, was all it said.
Then all its actors bowed.
_

#1868    I "don't" want to be close. I know what close is!
Someone feeds it!
But oh well, now that it's virgin drunk.
Remember it is a carnivorous act. That needs it.
_

#1869    Mouse eye view of a long stretch of highway.
Seen from below a passenger car door.
Stimulation by zero or stimulation by infinity.
To chose the one with more.
_

#1870    I stare at three 21 inch monitors.
And bravely steer the nil.
At an empty desk for thinking only.
Near some hours on a window thrill.
_

#1871    This is my favorite night club.
It's called The Waste of Space.
It's built on top of stilts you know.
Do you think it has too much grace.
_

#1872    Their microscope so cloudy.
So filled with who to hate.
People know a science.
Accurate to one hesitate.
_

#1873    Indoor thumbing will save the world.
Letting stimulation needed be purged.
Peaceful entertainment at the press of a lever.
Letting man on the Internet be heard.
_

#1874    Every hassle has a moat.
No pristine mind would cross.
Circumference sized to fit the keynote.
And keep the thoughts in sauce.
_

#1875    Attention where is the cause in thee.
Forever not rest your needs.
Move among questions that never stop.
Without ending let attentions unplease.
_

#1876    Two and three story houses.
Built in a slanted fashion.
Where perfect angles live.
Every nail is passion.
_

#1877    A man on the go with dogs.
Hanging from his arms by paws.
Sore wounds on both his karate hands.
And cue the endless cause.
_

#1878    I wish there was a movie called Fine Tuning.
About how people grow.
How they change their inner thoughts.
Until themselves they know.
_

#1879    So many crooks produce on a stage.
It's absolutely why I come here these days.
A McKegney on craig's list and donuts well made.
Holes gone in seconds, and an audience paid.
_

#1880    A long time ago I climbed a mountain.
Then I wrote this poem and sat.
But please don't make me speak of more.
You're lucky I wrote that.
_

#1881    When you look at the knight of a shining star.
How does your love begin?
Does it song on a planet years away.
Or does it slow within?
_

#1882    To also be at home like dust.
Where size prevents no stars.
Elephants kissing the new ease of mouselicks.
In the non event of cars.
_

#1883    With a focus so sharp it knows no needing.
The river of my time here.
Have you ever lifted your heart from reading.
And watched a raindrop tear.
_

#1884    Who can pass a high voltage wire.
Under a curtain as part of a complex plan.
A man rushing into a living room.
Quickly touching a tree light can.
_

#1885    Riding two exercise bicycles.
On a king size bed.
A man, a woman, no destinations.
No smiles to count or dread.
_

#1886    Though diamond may be the hardest stone.
It's not quite the hardest thing known.
When broken heart lungs ask why.
So hardest is the breathless cry.
_

#1887    Female Arctic ostriches.
By a woman who paints like me.
In that ice there is only nice.
Our world of motionless tea.
_

#1888    Deep is not a song my friend.
Just walk in any rain.
Unfold your hand letting letters send.
Then give each drop a name.
_

#1889    A mother with two children waiting for a bus.
As she suggests they stay off the road.
The four stages of a clothesline failing a blanket.
Stage left the autumn leaves I've owed.
_

#1890    When I listen to a song.
I hear it through to end.
That is why I promise you.
I will always be your friend.
_

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