The Ladder
This is a dynamic ranking ladder of my poems that changes in real time as |
|
home = www.epicdewfall.ca
|
|
Rank | ||
#661 | On the night I saw a faint Morse code. From far beyond a spider's thread. I discerned that signals carry power. Because power only carries dread. _ |
|
#662 | Benny did-you eat the stairs. Where is that beetle in thee. It's called a waR-Mat. It's "terrible" tingles in me. _ |
|
#663 | The greatest things there are to see. Are made visible by observations. The way the heavens own no light. Or return key constellations. _ |
|
#664 | Sip. Do it again. Lie down. And bet some honey on that toaster. She-has inner-eyes this big, that hot measure. And we both know he will coaster. _ |
|
#665 | A world that moves so fast outside. Tires a seek inside so slow. The anyway my idea escapes. My inner eye must go. _ |
|
#666 | Does my inner candle. Cast shadows on my cell. Or does wind and castle. Cast shadows on my shell. _ |
|
#667 | To know friends by their predicaments. All choices are beauty when froze. Standing farther than lonely beside them. As silence unblissed earning chose. _ |
|
#668 | Look at that pay dirt. That's what I've been saying. I'm surprised it has no internet. Try and talk about that without playing. _ |
|
#669 | Try not to speak rice of America. The only way to go. Dancers in the blinding snow. The deep earth-anchored nightclub table woes. _ |
|
#670 | I love our minds and how we think. And how thoughts are hills and wavy. But there's something missing I'm not sure what. Like perhaps there's not enough of maybe. _ |
|
#671 | And all throughout thoughts I guessed so. Tired is-that sound most likely. That there must be enough traffic somewhere. That knows your character slightly. _ |
|
#672 | Without pressure only desire. Is there such an iron forged. Refined by never known admire. Steel bars my mind calls yours. _ |
|
#673 | No deal nor should has yet impede. What is swirled by the power of wants. As rhymely small as the heard indeed. Is the unstoppable returned response. _ |
|
#674 | But I was old. And by glimmers named. We only say good morning. On thought rivers tamed. _ |
|
#675 | To-learn to speak, don't ask any questions. Like how Friday "has" a special message tone. Where castles have a place for rusted-bicycles. She stops feeling well by phone. _ |
|
#676 | We must've. But i didn't inform them. Left leg? What is that? Is that anything like a state. Actually you are doing something. But I won't. We have less than seconds to gate. _ |
|
#677 | I own this one. All barnacles before a foe. I said never. Very sadly so. With each "dash" banishing "words" from poems. Time to date. Chargers up. No loans. _ |
|
#678 | Behold the dafidills with linger. For as long as we can think. And measure time from thumb to finger. And mind as wide as blink. _ |
|
#679 | Oh come on, you're not going to offend. The excuse is in being challenged to heal terribly. Hmm. I think I look like that. Are they going to pick me up and bury me. _ |
|
#680 | Converting circles into squares. Requires every-triangle side that shows. The mind of men, hurt in golden moulds. If you intrude on that, hide glows. _ |
|
#681 | As never say good morning man. I fight for all terms unsung. Ideas so small they have no voice. Yet every man points at one. _ |
|
#682 | They are, two anguishes of angel hair close now. To solving a question once and for all. If they could just stop the train of circumference. Turning phantom as its track becomes small. _ |
|
#683 | Silent centers move so slowly. They hardly move at all. So bravely in a room of talkers. I see silent centers crawl. _ |
|
#684 | Join me for coffee in the best frontier. Where no place has greater depths. Testing our souls to points of tear. Siting on our front steps. _ |
|
#685 | She would have to be lonely. On her street that dead ends. To find me before morning. On her crosswalk of friends. _ |
|
#686 | Then when no one sees you. Shine night through seven days. Where there's pensive trace a lark. And you've made poetrays. _ |
|
#687 | Kiss the door. And then we go down. Whatever you want. Except what hello heard. Asking questions. I say yes. It just so happens. I hear the "groceries bird." _ |
|
#688 | Argue with someone for what they do. Or direction their words might lean. My favorite armament though has no who. They can't argue with what you dream. _ |
|
#689 | You would know me less by near. Nor I should kiss for disappear. How shadows twine thyn revery bright. My heart a bulb you give one thought each night. _ |
|
#690 | And when she crushed his heart making. Every unknown science agree. The lowest decibel was nearly recorded. When an un-moist quark lost she. _ |
|
home = www.epicdewfall.ca
|