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 Emily Riddle Dinosaur Economics i wanted bitumen to be made of dead dinosaurs. why did i want these ancient kin to be passively implicated in the fossil fuel industry? it Emma Healey Trust Fund Witches Margaret Avison The Swimmer’s Moment For everyone The swimmer's moment at the whirlpool comes, But many at that moment will not say Méira Cook Adam Father He wakes up naked and drunk as a bear on sun-fermented garbage. Hungover and queasy and riled up by bees. Nothing going well today, he moans, life being short and the craft, ah, long. Kayla Czaga Livejournal.com/lonelyradio We could read your words from anywhere but you felt like the only soul sitting in your swivel chair listening to your parents dream-breathing down the hall while you typed 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 Alden Nowlan The Bull Moose Down from the purple mist of trees on the mountain, lurching through forests of white spruce and cedar, stumbling through tamarack swamps… Susan Musgrave You Didn’t Fit You wouldn’t fit in your coffin but to me it was no surprise. All your life you had never fit in anywhere; you saw no reason to begin fitting in now. When I was little I remember Jane Munro Sonoma He totaled his blue truck — slowly spun out on an icy bridge, rammed it into a guard rail. Jillian Christmas Northern Light Stepping off the plane in Whitehorse the last thing I expect to feel is home not quite alone but close enough here in this great black north. As we drive away from the airport Adam Sol Opus 75, Sestina in B-flat for the Glockenspiel In the empty classroom, at sunrise, a girl sits on the floor, staring at a glockenspiel. She’s shredding the cuticles on her left hand 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 Anne Michaels From Correspondences Sometimes we are led through the doorway by a child, sometimes by a stranger, always a matter of grace changing Nancy Jo Cullen a good day it was very sad the day we heard that dad would die but it was also fun because all my friends came over and we went driving in the blue Toyota that kelly’s sister terry drove and i was the center of attention Louise Bernice Halfe April 30, 2014 Weeds are flattened beneath last year’s tire tracks others lay burden by the winter’s heavy snow. The crocuses labor through this thick blanket. I am sun drained from the bleakness Dorothy Livesay Other 1 Men prefer an island With its beginning ended: Undertones of waves Trees overbended. Men prefer a road Circling, shell-like Convex and fossiled Charles Heavysege The Dead How great unto the living seem the dead! How sacred, solemn; how heroic grown; How vast and vague, as they obscurely tread Milton Acorn I've Tasted My Blood If this brain’s over-tempered consider that the fire was want and the hammers were fists. Sharon Thesen Mean Drunk Poem Backward & down into inbetween as Vicki says. Or as Robin teaches the gap, from which all things emerge. A left handed compliment. Bats… Kevin Irie Current The sludge-slow flow of the visible current opens a path we can’t continue, tugs at what no hand can pull along. It’s how even water loses memory, travels a direction it cannot find, Conor Kerr What Do You Believe In? Do you believe in the ghosts of aunties and uncles that drive old sin- gle-bench pickup trucks spotted with bullet-hole rust, sweetgrass and Sylvia Legris 4 Marked by Claws and Cloudburst... The calendar marred with birds and you are kik-kik-kik-kicking all the way into June. 180 days scratched with black X’s and crow’s feet: bird-of-two minds (goodandevil goodandevil); Joanne Arnott world shapers creation stories are lullabies for grown-ups they remind us of all the possible ways & means that worlds… David Groulx On Seeing a Photograph of My Mother at St. Joseph Residential School for Girls A black and white picture The sun is shining through a window behind you Your hair black short Your small brown hands folded neatly on a tiny wooden desk Rita Wong Declaration of Intent let the colonial borders be seen for the pretensions that they are i hereby honour what the flow of water teaches us the beauty of enough, the path of peace to be savoured Kevin Connolly Plenty The sky, lit up like a question or an applause meter, is beautiful like everything else today: the leaves Margaret Atwood Death of a Young Son by Drowning He, who navigated with success the dangerous river of his own birth once more set forth El Jones Glass Hands: A Eulogy on the Anniversary of the Pandemic Hands pressed to glass Joy Kogawa Where There’s a Wall Where there’s a wall there’s a way through a gate or door. There’s even Billy-Ray Belcourt Love is a Moontime Teaching love is a moontime teaching is your kookum’s crooked smile when you pick up the phone is another word for body body is another word for campfire smoke Meghan Kemp-Gee A Newly Discovered Species of Lizard with Distinctive Triangular Scales I am Charles Darwin. I eat owlflesh at Cambridge University. I have discovered something, an entirely new species with tropical fever in its reptile fingers. I am busy with taxonomying its most peculiar and three-sided Lee Maracle Language Do you speak your language? I stare — I just said: how are you? I thought English was my language apparently it isn’t I thought Halkomelem was gibberish the devil’s language that’s what the nuns said Aisha Sasha John The limpness of a bird's legs in flight. The place, the question, the question. The place, the interest, the question. There is the place. There is what you do in the place. There is your belief. Elise Partridge Chemo Side Effects: Memory Where is the word I want? Groping in the thicket, Wilfred Campbell How One Winter Came in the Lake Region For weeks and weeks the autumn world stood still, Clothed in the shadow of a smoky haze; The fields were dead, the wind had lost its will, Brandon Wint From: Incantation: Memory of Water Tonight, a strand of my great-grandmother’s hair sashes an amber beer bottle discarded by a tourist. A white thread of my grandmother’s baptismal robe is a bangle on a wrist of kelp P. K. Page Planet Earth It has to be loved the way a laundress loves her linens, the way she moves her hands caressing the fine muslins knowing their warp and woof, like a lover coaxing, or a mother praising. Tara Borin Nuisance Only the thickness of log and triple-paned glass between my children and the open maw of a bear. I slip warm chocolate chip cookies from the pan to the cooling rack - Dennis Lee 400: Coming Home You are still on the highway and the great light of noon comes over the asphalt, the gravelled shoulders. You are on the highway, there is a kind of 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 Language English