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The Ladder
My 2056 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 2056 Quatrains      or show all ranked
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#1921    As the master chose a brush.
And the paint did chose a time.
Can we choose a person anywhere.
Who did not help choose one line.
_

#1922    When you see a second hand.
I hope you see the years.
And when you see a second man.
I hope you see his tears.
_

#1923    There's a satellite in orbit with a large hotdog.
Kept clamped at its core unchased.
It may have the last clear view of a sky.
Before cell phones have filled up space.
_

#1924    I know what mistakes are for now.
They help art distort the lines.
I dreamt I tripped and kissed her.
I tripped a thousand times.
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#1925    I'll make true art when it says nothing.
And nothing has not spoken clear.
The heart is a mighty master.
But so is what we can't hear.
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#1926    If I believed in you hard enough.
I was sure that you'd appear.
Just like, how a snow flake.
Can wish to join a tear.
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#1927    Are moms made of pictures.
Or are pictures made of mom.
And when she takes a photo.
Where has likeness gone.
_

#1928    I behold a fragment of load stone.
It too is molded of hardest why.
That know that heeds no return to.
Loneliness when parents die.
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#1929    Artists and poets are found by witch hunt.
And humanity is searching it's true.
Just keep pointing an admiring finger at others.
And hope they don't point one at you.
_

#1930    When two bodies meet in space.
They pass or they collide.
But I suspect the darkness smiles.
When say reveal where an orbit hides.
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#1931    People how like planets.
A vast many voices strew.
And planets how like people.
Correct number of friends be few.
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#1932    A research grant for curly phone cords.
That's what this world needs.
Find out where oh tangles come from.
To go where art that leads.
_

#1933    You know that shape of humans.
Well humans are nothing like that.
But kept secret hidden inside somewhere.
Is where their circle is at.
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#1934    Fine arts I sell you truly.
Where no one has been.
If pun moves so carefully.
Yell that's where worlds begin.
_

#1935    Oh small and lonely little mouse.
With the shark fin all do fear.
Please not hide your yearning heart.
In the shadows cast by tear.
_

#1936    Or it could be like my old Mac Pro.
I mean, when I took it apart.
Or it could be like my dishwasher.
That needs to be "shaken" to make it start.
_

#1937    Here's the last-thing we have on paper.
I'm going to un-attach it now.
But please be careful, and just don't look.
The mailbox could have wow.
_

#1938    It could be the powerful outdoor-lantern.
That makes the patio-parties bleep.
I'm sure it can still "find an estate".
It's just a "whack model" once a week.
_

#1939    Inspiration is the loneliest torment.
But oh what a place to be.
No one can join such a tiniest moment.
But lo may I hold hands with thee.
_

#1940    That is the strongest shield.
When anger sounds like don't.
Nothing can hurt the warmth of self.
When a kitten's hidden in your coat.
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#1941    To steer a hurricane aim your thoughts.
Then aim your eyes right there.
Change direction of your slowest knots.
Then bravely resume floor stare.
_

#1942    Within a perfect stillness.
Is there a place for me.
I could only till the hush.
To respond to thus as seed.
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#1943    Only jog in new shopping mall parking lots.
And only behind cars that have good brakes.
Only look behind you wherever you go.
And avoid the magic being talked to makes.
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#1944    Hostile to all trends.
Willing to only one.
I stand among all hell dressed mens.
To salute her setting fun.
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#1945    There were many roads to find the new.
Each turn they took with dread.
They endlessly wandered a or b.
So I lived inside my head.
_

#1946    When family come home for Christmas.
There's a special language of horns and signs.
They release control to the harbor master.
And release control divine.
_

#1947    Poets just blow soap bubbles.
Infinity is a child's game.
Who'll make most influence.
As elder memories take aim.
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#1948    You don't have to be a poet.
You don't have to carve in wood.
Just by telling who's your favorite.
Shows just how you could.
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#1949    She visits the coffee shop frequently.
Frequency is how to tell.
Heros hide in higher specdums.
You have to fine tune well.
_

#1950    Considering the much of us.
And the emptiness of space.
Sure there's alot more nothingness.
But nothing goes to waste.
_

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