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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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#451    Heroes and I. We are nine o'clock in dreams.
Only on buses. Fully understanding seams.
Seeing what thinking smooths. With a lot of aint.
The internal landscape. We passengers create.
_
#452    This is an observation. The wind is where she stars.
What is that hissing thing on her arm.
Nothing to worry about. We're in the darkness now.
He fell asleep. Please wake him "alarm".
_
#453    There's lots of luck up there. Here's your stop.
Remember action is a silly shop.
After almost two months, of opposite-shifting.
There's one guiding star but two garbage dumps.
_
#454    Would you mind if I crossed your path.
At the incredibly slow speed of wife?
I would only be a bother for just a moment.
And we could pass the time with life.
_
#455    Scientists can't be held. Until the 7th.
Records are records! (of careers to chapter three).
I feel warm in this house. On scale just above RVs.
I'll give you a hint. Elaine Benes keys are keys.
_
#456    One to one. Are they toasting fun.
Their feet tapping every beat.
Not one to none. Our once each sum.
Our slowness tapping kind of neats.
_
#457    Thank you for wishing me goodnight.
And no leaves left on the ground.
At midnight when they switch off noses.
Don't love them near dreams inbound.
_
#458    I can't believe in Relationships.
Mankind put into the great-cloud of stoic.
Well then stop rhyming about it.
His quantum computer rhymed through poet.
_
#459    Like breaking a twig in four places.
Long art titles are no crime.
Thinking alone are the five spaces.
Joined by art broken fine.
_
#460    Where his dark San Andreas fault passes.
Through dark-palace floor of shale.
Every ugly masked jester.
Starts to look like a Nail.
_
#461    You're trying to untie a not?
Listen "carefully" in this house.
You're not attractive, that's ok.
Mirrors point-north not south.
_
#462    Ask a world by endless chose.
What it arts and what it throws.
And on its hunch it carries those.
Secret votes the ladder knows.
_
#463    Like when they build "skateboard-tunnels".
Where skaters and "bicycle-commuters" could power sway.
Television please have "mercy oscillations".
For kites and wedding bands out of day.
_
#464    Like the quiet mind reaching out a hand.
To catch a friend's falling book.
We look upon the all of man.
Glancing long at brief chance or soot.
_
#465    There's a fuse in life every ten feet.
They are sown for a harvest of dreams.
And oh how easy these lessons light.
By that candle of thought made of means.
_
#466    I saw enough beauty.
Today to choke a horse.
It was a tuft of carpet.
That looked like you of course.
_
#467    Do you suppose there's any truth to the rumor.
There's an endless long table between minds.
Or that words of a quatrain can be in love forever.
Or we could know each other like rhymes.
_
#468    Behind a chimney covered front door.
In the middle gaze of hollywood.
She boils the kettle once again.
While it's raining frogs and all is good.
_
#469    Lottery numbers are like smoky-air. Yes-they
are that shy. They drive on all the wrong sides
like London. And only leave the past to visit you.
Inside the year you turn off your onion.
_
#470    Fourteen seamstresses.
Making a perfect girlfriend's dress.
And not knowing which to love.
Her world or emptiness.
_
#471    Talk Tuseday. There will be a party here at the docks.
Why are you moving? You enjoy me the most.
Come and party. Do you like butter? Well, I tried.
Must be because we don't have any doomsday clocks.
_
#472    Where the difference pays a man.
His balance scale of goal.
A cruel trick that newest price.
Each piece is worth the whole.
_
#473    In my favorite dream of endless rooms.
No thirds are heard for miles.
Where the subconscious is in control.
We use no words or styles.
_
#474    Then my five pixel camera.
Answered her question in kind.
Inside must be simple.
Because outside is all time.
_
#475    Thinking is the best fed curse.
Speak makes the separate wean.
To never know the less said worst.
What was part of us till seen.
_
#476    If I were near smart enough.
To make everything just right.
Or would I hold my part of life.
At magic angle like kite.
_
#477    Man in egg shaped chair.
Lowering by thread, to the average.
And recording the audio and imagery.
Of his cavern age.
_
#478    A painting shall always have magic wings.
But will fly forever between two things.
It will rest upon the rocks it knows.
But will oft as thought fly far as chose.
_
#479    To rise above ground level.
Be given a voice and breeze.
To stand just once and revel.
That's all I ask of needs.
_
#480    The world nears all her cusps untold.
And steers by her rudder rot.
Rhyming nothing quite so old.
As the tiny private thought.
_
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