Search Categories - Any -25 Lines or FewerCanadaPre 21st Century21st Century Grade levels - Any -Grades 7-9 / Sec. 1-3Grades 10-12 / Sec. 4 & 5 / CEGEP 1 Sort by RandomNewestMost popularA -> ZZ -> A Apply Tomasz Rózycki 11. Headwinds When I began to write, I didn’t know each of my words would bit by bit remove things from the world and in return leave blank Lewis Carroll A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky A boat, beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July — David McGimpsey 71. Song for a Silent Treatment. I told her, in plain language, how I felt. And by that I mean I mumbled a poorly paraphrased and already… James Millhaven Closure On the night we dug up your father’s body (for reasons I can no longer remember) we took turns with the shovel as we passed a bottle of Whyte & Mackay back and forth. Tonja Gunvaldsen Klaassen Mama When the horse picked Mama up by the hair that time, was she scared? There is a photograph of her with this horse in the brown family album. She stands beside him, thin in the chilly wind Don Paterson Francesca Woodman i At the heart there is a hollow sun by which we are constructed and undone Gerard Manley Hopkins The Windhover I caught this morning morning’s minion, king- dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling… Ruth Daniell Poem for My Body No one else rescued me. Not my father or my brother or, years later, the gentle man who became my husband. Not my mother or my best friend or any of the women who listened to me tell my story William Wordsworth The World Is Too Much With Us The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; — Little we see in Nature that is ours; Sarah Yi-Mei Tsiang Winter House My father threw his language overboard, a bag of kittens, waterlogged mewling: small hard bodies. My mother hung on to hers — Wove the words like lace, an open web Susan Howe From Titian Air Vent A work of art is a world of signs, at least to the poet’s nursery bookshelf sheltered behind the artist’s ear. I recall each little motto howling its ins and outs to those of us who might as well be on the moon Ralph Waldo Emerson Experience The lords of life, the lords of life, — I saw them pass, In their own guise, Edwin Arlington Robinson The House on the Hill They are all gone away, The House is shut and still, There is nothing more to say. Weyman Chan But I’m No One for M. Maylor Dear Anne Carson: My friend read me the poem where your mom said that the dead walk backwards. You thought this myth arose from poor translation. Ulrikka Gernes K was supposed to come with the key, I was K was supposed to come with the key, I was to wait outside the gate. I arrived on time, the time we had agreed on and waited, as agreed, Oliver Wendell Holmes Old Ironsides Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Princess: Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font. Susan Holbrook What Is Poetry (a twelve-tone poem) trite yap show rosy twit heap William Wordsworth I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, Suzanne Buffam Dream Jobs Random Link Clicker. Royal Bath Taker. Receiver of Foot Rubs and Praise. Aimé Césaire New Year Out of their torments men carved a flower which they perched on the high plateaus of their faces hunger makes a canopy for them an image dissolves in their last tear Cicely Belle Blain Dear Diaspora Child it's okay if you only learned about your culture from Google it's okay if you only read your language at the public library John McCrae In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky Ian Keteku Moment One I remember my birth like it was tomorrow, the unholy sensation Tommy Pico You can't be an NDN person in today's world You can't be an NDN person in today's world and write a nature poem. I swore to myself I would never write a nature poem. Let's be clear, I hate nature — hate its guts Michael Crummey Newfoundland Sealing Disaster Sent to the ice after white coats, rough outfit slung on coiled rope belts, they stooped to the slaughter: gaffed pups, Wanda Coleman In That Other Fantasy Where We Live Forever we were never caught we partied the southwest, smoked it from L.A. to El Dorado worked odd jobs between delusions of escape drunk on the admonitions of parents, parsons & professors Doyali Islam bhater mondo my mother used to make little rice balls for me. she steamed and clattered about the cramped mustard kitchen, filling a pot with water, swelling and salting and songing Joy Harjo Praise the Rain Praise the rain, the seagull dive The curl of plant, the raven talk- Praise the hurt, the house slack George Murray Cowboy Story The books sit on the shelf, a row of coma patients in a ward, a series of selves no longer able to learn and trapped at the point of injury: the last page. Edna St. Vincent Millay I think I should have loved you presently I think I should have loved you presently, And given in earnest words I flung in jest; And lifted honest eyes for you to see, Anne Michaels From Correspondences Sometimes we are led through the doorway by a child, sometimes by a stranger, always a matter of grace changing Molly CROSS-BLANCHARD First Time Smudge It takes eight matches, a burnt thumb, and a quick Google search to light the sweetgrass braid Mom scored for me from an elder at work. Always use matches, she said. Spirit likes matches. Jessie Jones Eclipse In every which way, I am living for potential. I’ve mined cadmium enough to roulette with Death and Mars, bloodshot brute, is swollen in my honour. My function is action — to pummel through concrete Elizabeth Bishop One Art The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Gerard Manley Hopkins Spring Nothing is so beautiful as Spring — When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens,… Robin Coste-Lewis Mother Church #3 KIN KLETSO/YELLOW HOUSE CHACO CANYON, SAN JUAN COUNTY, NEW MEXICO ANASAZI RUINS, AD 1125-1130 For Henri, at 2 Rita Wong fluorine arsenic in calculators, mercury in felt hats, mad as a poisoned hatter pyrophoric undercurrent in mundane Tamar Rubin Perennial For thirty-one years, my mother tried not to miss her. Every week, a little water or the trickle of a few ice cubes dropped in black earth. Years back, in the muck of Toronto, April, John Donne Holy Sonnets: Death, be not proud Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Language English