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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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Rank    
#1951    Let's turn it on.
And see what makes it steam.
How about now "which" colour.
Smoke so humbly-green.
_
#1952    Stop it "was" undeserving.
It wasn't at your beckon call.
Struggling until-once it heard us.
The machine now has those balls.
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#1953    Are you coughing all alone.
The ego system's down.
Let us kick "sandals" to the statue.
There's plenty there by now.
_
#1954    Hello profits, meet the Kids.
And then also meet the Roads.
Hey gorgeous, are you nervous.
Understandably so.
_
#1955    Now "it's" over there.
Mommy where's my boots.
Please take-out all permissions.
And realign the scoops.
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#1956    Because it's heavy once again.
And the song was awful slow.
And salt said to the never.
Please tell us what you know.
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#1957    What was "all" it wanted.
Could you please, pass the shame.
Now arriving at gate eleven.
The weakest engine that we made.
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#1958    So mighty "as" seen by laughter.
For it can concentrate.
And-although not a dancer.
A broken heart can wait.
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#1959    It bubbles out "undo" fractions.
It warbles more than floor.
And "when" it lifts it's hands out.
It barely knows what for.
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#1960    Commands can come from two sources.
Only one of which won't seed.
Where places measure to indigestions.
Or where zero dimensions need.
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#1961    It doesn't-know what "is" pronoun.
And can hardly hold "a door".
And was never-ever necessary.
Yet poetry grew so core.
_
#1962    Like I would kiss you to wake you up.
I love how your listening counts.
Waiting for years to dine with your nears.
So quatrains I can recite unannounced.
_
#1963    Nil to near our exit gate.
I rush to a further climb.
Turning toward thought itself.
No seashore sand that fine.
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#1964    Airplanes are new this time of year.
I'm so in-love with "empty".
And sheets again never-known.
It's not that bad or Bentley.
_
#1965    You're my hero. What's next?
It's simply sad-above the zero.
It's your bank account so buy.
Smart counter-things for Nero.
_
#1966    Ha ha. Do you see.
In the bedroom. What's down there.
That's the morning's clever spot.
As winter as rivets air.
_
#1967    It's not her fault.
That music fm's Sara's desert.
Kind of like the weeds in snow.
They won't believe in Everest.
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#1968    Entree's are at least a ghost.
Fill honey suckle frames.
Lower eyes to the gallery floor.
Envy all the stories of stains.
_
#1969    Dam strait! What's in front of you.
Get off at "exit time".
Then Margret past no "inner state".
Zero-sins say every sign.
_
#1970    Aw shucks.
That's the wind from great bear vent.
Where lovers walking have nearly sunk.
There's no dancing-here I've lent.
_
#1971    Pop it in there. Rabbit stew.
And-morning the great relief.
That reading glasses never knew.
Lines tearing grim from grief.
_
#1972    To give his shirt on.
He had to lose his heat.
We can't let that happen.
Fumble the quarter he keeps.
_
#1973    Like an offshore.
What are you doing here flowing one.
Moving enough to gently-implore.
Paintings no higher than none.
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#1974    I just want someone to take me home.
But atoms can't do-that now.
It buried us.
In-ways only rivets know-how.
_
#1975    And-trucks.
Leaving my gravel road.
On the evening I took too long in daylight.
To buy such crude "dream code".
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#1976    With a hard bench beside my single bed.
And a dragon quilt keeping both warm.
Hoping no woman would risk it.
Sleeping on the should be lovelorn.
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#1977    If you don't mind I'll have it black.
Since coffee comes from havin.
Lifting a sugar cube takes a trillion years.
If you count the seasons of atoms.
_
#1978    Do you ever think about the leaves.
And wonder why the water comes.
Haste partitions as a resource.
Self autumn as the quiet sums.
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#1979    Let me ask you around a storm.
While everyone is wide awake.
Who is writing, down near the ask.
If pimples make the same mistake.
_
#1980    I see women on step ladders cooking in kitchens.
At their ten foot high countertops.
And embedded into their ambitious soccer fields.
I see their giant shopping carts.
_
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