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 Raymond Souster Lagoons, Hanlan’s Point Mornings before the sun’s liquid spilled gradually, flooding Don Kerr Editing the Prairie Well, it’s too long for one thing and very repetitive. Remove half the fields. Then there are far too many fences interrupting the narrative flow. Get some cattlemen to cut down those fences. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow A Psalm of Life What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! Cicely Belle Blain London I some towers are made of cladding some made of ivory some burn in the night some built by slaves wind rushes through coarse hair body aches between vertebrae William Shakespeare Blow, blow, thou winter wind Blow, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude; Emily Brontë Shall earth no more inspire thee Shall earth no more inspire thee, Thou lonely dreamer now? Since passion may not fire thee Nicole Brossard Smooth Horizon of the Verb Love 1 an urban image from the eighties when we hung out at Chez Madame Arthur Adonis Ali Ahmad Said Esber The Wound I. Leaves, asleep under wind: a ship for the wound. The wound glories in these ruinous times. Trees growing in our own eyelashes a lake for the wound. The wound shows up in bridges Dionne Brand From thirsty This city is beauty unbreakable and amorous as eyelids, in the streets, pressed with fierce departures, Philip Larkin This Be The Verse They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. But they were fucked up in their turn Elinor Wylie Full Moon My bands of silk and miniver Momently grew heavier; The black gauze was beggarly thin; Duncan Campbell Scott En Route The train has stopped for no apparent reason In the wilds; A frozen lake is level and fretted over Gwen Benaway Trillium the animal in me is constant. thirst starts, hunger answers. sleep is uncertain, restless limbs. in the night, I hear footsteps. Claudia Rankine from Citizen The rain this morning pours from the gutters and everywhere else it is lost in the trees. You need your glasses to single out what you know is there because Olive Senior Rejected Text for a Tourist Brochure “I saw my land in the morning and O but she was fair” - M.G. Smith, “Jamaica” (1938) I Come see my land Come see my land Andrea Thompson Enigma Who I am depends on which side of my skin you stand on. In here it’s all neurons firing synapses telling stories blood tracing ancestral histories Aphra Behn Love Armed Love in Fantastic Triumph sat, Whilst Bleeding Hearts around him flowed, For whom Fresh pains he did Create, Rita Wong fluorine arsenic in calculators, mercury in felt hats, mad as a poisoned hatter pyrophoric undercurrent in mundane Sandra Ridley From Silvija If you can’t speak / write in a fissured / alter-language Of nerve-matter / dura mater / orbit of the central axis By a crevice / scattered / venous lacunae / lamina code Afua Cooper Shots Rang Out on My Street Today Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Boyakka! Shots rang out on my street today Three Black yoots lay dead shot inna dem head Leah Horlick For You Shall Be Called to Account The ancestors of everyone I’ve let into my body are gathered in a small room with one window, no lights. Yes, the room is crowded. Yes, there are no chairs. Yes, they are talking. Why are we Tina Biello C Wing 1 Your mother is missing, the nurse hovers at the door . Your mother is missing, a bit louder this time. As if this was natural, a daily game of let's find the Italian, Bliss Carman Low Tide on Grand Pré The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, Hari Alluri area boys brash talk on sidewalk brethren to irreverence short teeth long stories ~ aspirations high rolling tape decks tweeters six by nine speakers deep Tyler B. Perry FLOOD The hallway is an empty riverbed, smooth and barren. At three o’clock classroom doors open like dams. Gullies of teens stream out, to become one flowing body. A torrent Russell Thornton Letters I threw away your letters. Years ago, just like that. The tight black swirls, circles and strokes filling fine sheets — I would not see them again. The last items I had left. Bertrand Bickersteth The Bow I only know rivers Waters elongated to the unrumpled recitatif of endless land The Bow knows Has tongued and grooved the firmament, baby, of this Last Best The Bow knows Dylan Thomas Fern Hill Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Mathew Henderson Badlands Your father worked Drumheller while you ate and slept at home. He travelled the badlands, squatted below rocks, read books … Edward Lear The Owl and the Pussy-Cat I The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, Ocean Vuong Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong Ocean, don’t be afraid. The end of the road is so far ahead it is already behind us. Don’t worry. Your father is only your father until one of you forgets. Like how the spine Lady Mary Chudleigh To the Ladies Wife and servant are the same, But only differ in the name: For when that fatal knot is tied, A. M. Klein Heirloom My father bequeathed me no wide estates; No keys and ledgers were my heritage; Only some holy books with yahrzeit dates Aphra Behn A Thousand Martyrs A thousand martyrs I have made, All sacrific’d to my desire; A thousand beauties have betray’d, Daniel Borzutzky Lake Michigan, Scene 3 The bodies are on the beach And the bodies keep breaking And the fight is over But the bodies aren't dead And the mayor keeps saying I will bring back the bodies Edgar Lee Masters Mrs. Kessler Mr. Kessler, you know, was in the army, And he drew six dollars a month as a pension, And stood on the corner talking politics, Sarah Tolmie 31 We’re all aware that human hair is dead Yet we spend thousands taking care of it. It’s like an endless funeral. The moment your hair hits air, it’s toast. It only lives inside the follicle. Jason Camlot Dear Death, Am I a praise poet or a blame poet? Today I am a blame poet. O Death, face it, existence doesn’t like you. You can’t sing. You can’t paint. Patrick Lane Passing into Storm Know him for a white man. He walks sideways into wind allowing the left of him to forget what the right knows as cold. His ears turn into death what Rabindranath Tagore Gitanjali 35 Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high; Where knowledge is free; Where the world has not been broken up into… Language English