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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    
#931    Don't worry about me at all. I am made of love.
But you should know it washes off.
So if you ever run out of all ideas.
I'm still wearing children's cough.
_
#932    There is snow out here that someone is melting.
And that person is my dove. "I keep you" here on speed-dial.
For when I need my prescriptions filled. By what I
always call Rain-Style. Also when you cry above.
_
#933    Hum every object you've seen on television.
Ends in a landfill site someday.
And if you've heard humanity's wishing well.
You can almost commend each sway.
_
#934    You're all hot compare I was.
The penalty of, Despair.
McGrewgan light night delight.
Upset dearest so, rare.
_
#935    Indiscernible fluctuations or massive fluctuations.
Just how should I adjust world scope.
If I aim my dreams towards wind devils.
Should I report that I preferred to cope.
_
#936    Rest oh wind that carries sin.
And fear what the heart calls merrier.
The 4 am pen must have no friend.
Or the treason of a window's barrier.
_
#937    Noise where vegetables knock for game.
Hunger team ease your train.
Drop not, stock of thought.
Rewind be kind oh rain.
_
#938    That's the one! Hidden peace.
Wake the November sure.
The mighty SL! in my heart.
Come into, in-my-store.
_
#939    How do you know where the rivers go.
In the conscience of a dancer.
How do you know where the electrons go.
In the search for the never answer.
_
#940    Thanks to electronic "names".
I'm seeing it's label face.
The worst "art" of unfiltered-news.
The dark shadows that we taste.
_
#941    And the stimulation will never fall.
And no more than needed ever tall.
To make an evening a warm must end.
And normal must stall to make a friend.
_
#942    That could mean.
A dust, like angry sky.
I wonder where the yellow went?
I told you Byron lied.
_
#943    My soldier and my warrior.
Are friends in their old age.
Though oddly, cafe table choosing.
Remains the warrior's forte.
_
#944    Yes the time is exactly five days. But in
the future, nothing goes right down the table line.
I tried to figure out if that kettle was ever there.
I think it's a chair.
_
#945    It's so upsetting! Do come in.
I'm trying to rearrange the door.
And stack the angles, in a heap.
The good of any-more.
_
#946    I love that!
The same way, velvet felt, was rhyme.
And doctors yet so numb I'm sure.
Could repair a verse of mine.
_
#947    Twice daily rascals!
Phone for backup sweeps.
One unbutton! Two unbutton!
Three, alert the meeks!
_
#948    What did I say?
The lion gate's the same!
BRAIN, don't say it!
So near a velvet tame.
_
#949    I am filling up this dog: it is a blind decision.
My name, is Randy: nothing like the others.
I am living inside-out: ugly to the boss.
No I would Not bite him: Even if Canada-lost.
_
#950    It's dark in here!
And no time has ever known.
Pass the buttercup, and some mind!
Cameras are dead in Rome.
_
#951    Dandelion are still alive!
And forgetful as repose.
Making up, such a heaven.
I know! I know! I know!
_
#952    With practicing license.
And a desert known as place.
Emily, for the heaven.
And Byron for the waste.
_
#953    Count them, six more givings!
The songs that living chose.
No one ever, invents a light bulb.
That doesn't know what shows.
_
#954    The spiders dance in Neptune's horror.
Where passwords forget their pain.
Excuse me do you accept Visa here?
Earth is-my home again.
_
#955    For love of time or money.
A river should be, so bold.
Ticker tape, or funny.
And suggestion, just as old.
_
#956    After grabbing the nearest vest or cloak.
On the way to the test of steam.
On behalf of all the best use for hopes.
Can you tell me what each career cleans.
_
#957    An imagined slow leak in an air mattress.
Feels the same as a real one theres.
Exactly the same way falling in love.
Knows that real time disappears.
_
#958    With wrong for heavy, and light for rain.
Who knows where dancing goes?
Perhaps. The very first hiding spot?
Beneath the yellow rose!
_
#959    But I'm a statue! Hear me not.
Demure has no disclose.
Except to say, just one thought.
Five broom sweeps, and one pose.
_
#960    If we spoke by colors only.
Oh what things we'd say.
But our world is hurt by thrown glee.
So my favorite color is gray.
_
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