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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    
#1081    Breathe again and live again.
The shortcut to the fin.
Dark-towards hunter-nights.
The Savannah pushed within.
_
#1082    Shoe the cobra. Cue the din.
That, lobsters never meet.
Bubbles like the sands of time.
Dreaming angels to a street.
_
#1083    Torment bay, my little friend.
So small as look outside.
Where, lightning on one finger tip.
Has more within than shy.
_
#1084    Framework, looks good on you.
Though, do-not forget the rains.
For deserts only never knock.
Until a light switch gains.
_
#1085    A single playing card in a void.
Illustrating favorite things.
A mind missing fifty one cards.
And the wisdom that game brings.
_
#1086    Crumple up, all years be friends.
Across one-page of climb.
FedEx in-betweens the mountains.
And mere decimals are only fine.
_
#1087    People holding paintings stolen from people beside them.
Showing what they would like to be.
On that grid where all good art lives.
You can phone the less of me.
_
#1088    But reciprocations are just as steep.
For two who sound like rhyme.
Have you ever tried to be so deep.
No thrill found you to climb.
_
#1089    The greatest gift to give yourself.
Is nondysfunctionality.
What you say is your finest wealth.
I'm in love with your polarity.
_
#1090    You should know I fear fast words like static.
So we should probably speak like storms.
The same way mammals discussing their feeling.
Honk their moan two horns.
_
#1091    We need it bad. I guess we do-but only halfway.
We'll be the first-one's to ever smoke. We'll
get to know each other. And call it the finger
option. Oh, and our home we can call the ashtray.
_
#1092    Gold and yellow and Whittaker sir.
And not less than a perfect ten.
Ouch a friend.
The hanging upside down boxer's den.
_
#1093    A few dark clothes and beverages.
For the experimental king.
Trying to mine for mind again-
Some space, and resign to pen.
_
#1094    Bold as even writing sins.
As much as heaven has no eyes.
And statement onward delivers "light".
Afterwards the meanest prize.
_
#1095    And underlings.
Let's re-coast the shore.
To em-pass, the decadence.
And remind the floor.
_
#1096    There were many deep valleys, with some parts flat.
Holly, you need to be brilliant right now. Is that him?
Can you identify him, with masks on his feet?
No, the prettiest moon had more shine than that.
_
#1097    And including all our muscles.
Please visitor do come in.
Wild-blueberries and the hush inside.
Onward let the trusts begin.
_
#1098    And how-has your music deserved such wine.
The big guy at your work defines.
Occasionally de-boarding, without stopping.
To begin the slips on time.
_
#1099    And an empty Sudan from your mother.
From her Serengeti tray.
How many fingers are on the numbers.
That can lift the March that way.
_
#1100    Man angry too much belittling. Makes his baseball too small.
Enough to slip through each-morning. A batting cage linked-wall.
Man waking up needing. To roll out of harm's way.
From traffic until full-body bandages. Fall off for that day.
_
#1101    And even if a statue warms.
No sooner than we grave.
It is the wait through smitten winters.
That windows and nights have saved.
_
#1102    Turn around, fast enough to avoid the Needle.
The way the Racoon, looks right at the noodle.
Some things, only need a sillier name.
The way no one is ever afraid of the Woodle.
_
#1103    And so begins such a story.
Because kinships contain no spare.
I heard that rockets run on money.
That lift your beverage there.
_
#1104    Like Harper as a diligent.
Tired beyond all the escapees.
Unaware of skeletons-below.
While sleeping under trees.
_
#1105    Where slow-alarm clocks never planed.
And deserving showers must rust "unmanned".
Waiting for gold's asbestus-sorrow.
Ingesting instead a fused-tomorrow.
_
#1106    Ask me About That sand-flow!
I'll know with some simple luck.
Both the talk show, and the banjo.
Mere strings no man should pluck.
_
#1107    Bob Dylan and the entrance.
Let's begin the true exam.
Is that all, "the next line is"?
Let's begin the test of sand.
_
#1108    Then eagerness came down the stairs.
Like laundry within the clothes.
But I only saw her inside face.
And adjectives in my froze.
_
#1109    To push or to shove.
And then, news one way to watch.
And then forgive my atomic number.
That bullied up one notch.
_
#1110    Shut up and bring the Sargent in.
To shut me up until she's mellow.
It's some kind of damp sugar.
Outside, you become that fellow.
_
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