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The Ladder
My 2557 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 2557 Quatrains      or show all ranked
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#721    Like telling time by a clock hand's shadow.
I need just one source of right.
So as near as I can tell it's hello.
When winter strikes the night.
_
#722    In the middle of nowhere a small green plant said.
On a one inch white stem here's what I read.
I think I thought of thought while thinking.
And magically then I thought of thinking.
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#723    When fun day, has to choose a style.
A whisper quiet will always hide by rain.
As if the witness of all, it has seen.
Might have, louder slants than drain.
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#724    Waking up every morning.
To an hourglass-loud's silent price.
That's all anybody can do.
Is record the dice.
_
#725    I'm glad you came for tea and spreading.
Yes gossiping improves my health.
Oh probably we should start with that.
With of course the first-time being the trap.
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#726    I was going to go outside.
I just need an artist to paint it all.
I'm pretty unlucky right now can someone?
Stand up "unless" their "rights" are small.
_
#727    Again and again it never ends.
Unloud like a dancing rain.
Somewhere in the faster light.
Not now, something simple claims.
_
#728    There's always trouble. Now that's a nomad light.
Before you slow your brain down. Peace and night.
It's so easy. People are so lonely, as art officials.
How did you forget your wife, Mister Lobster Life?
_
#729    The "next" one is.
But how are they going to be "prudent".
Sometimes it's like having my own "driveway".
And I'm not smart enough to "move it".
_
#730    My mind keeps ringing. My inner ears.
Expecting pressures. As if weather shares.
The claws of nature. Are a little bit dark in here.
Rhyming helps. Shouts a louder fear.
_
#731    A new bath.
Twenty minutes a day.
Why wouldn't he.
Red wines and garlic say.
_
#732    You can't phone his apologies.
Excuse me, your shoulder is arcing-sparks.
Oh. I was trying to get to the boats.
Or sharks.
_
#733    Can he go pee.
No I don't think they need to. Not this year.
To keep things simple though.
They typically go each tear.
_
#734    There is always new-technology: Can't stop me.
I cried on these-occasions: Please help me.
I threw it only to who-it-concerned: No rocks.
With such a little-juxtaposed: Now water fills with socks.
_
#735    A new father in the rain.
With his forehead on his hands leaning.
Into open window crying so sadly.
Is this really fair elderly-cair?
_
#736    It's all about the word impedance.
Do you dream of that.
Like a dance on figure skates.
To stop you they react.
_
#737    In this area right-here.
I think they use a guidance system from above.
Her coveralls and her yard stick, to the table.
Archangels, that chalk boards love.
_
#738    That's, what I'm worried, most about.
That waters, are not sure things.
Holding a match up to the problem.
Beholds our rights to wings.
_
#739    Diamond is not a pretty thought.
That shelter of the saddest king.
Each minute, of an average moment.
Disturbing his inner swing.
_
#740    One constant for the year. Woman you sound so good.
I need to see my psychiatrist because the corn is should.
Hence the storms, following all farm hats. Doctor, can
we make a science of them? When do they collapse?
_
#741    And lo however, I ride the bus.
A chapel, as quaint as far.
With war, as ample, as sitting brings.
The knowing what moves a car.
_
#742    It's, better that way you know!
To get free rights! And a tangled nose.
But wherever exactly roaming went.
I have no ideas, like pros.
_
#743    Insane beleaguered people scream.
The fanciness we fall.
On running transportation.
Where waterbeds know all.
_
#744    But now? Would you take it?
Like Christmas again?
That nature of gold?
The standard, often?
_
#745    One pillow.
You just stood there "thinking" in the start.
I think it's trying to explain our-patience.
The "fundamentals" brooms hide in the dark.
_
#746    There's a man.
Shaking his fist at sparrows.
How can he take?
Care of planes near errors.
_
#747    Here's hoping our eyes, receive tainted feedback.
And what we believe, always slightly wrong.
So each and every, thing we touch.
Becomes slightly more like song.
_
#748    I'm a man, and I have jel-o fingers.
But the whole world needs to know.
If only I could type this out there.
That traffic is made of people's prose.
_
#749    I know there's alot of atoms.
But one somewhere contains your song.
And when you call yourself bad things.
I go there knowing that you're wrong.
_
#750    A darkness we won't test by leaving.
A tome where no distance is breached.
We live in a thing called a brain cell.
Knowing there are things to be teached.
_
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