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 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, Cynthia Cruz Duras (Poverty) “The link with poverty is there is there in the man's hat, too, for money has got to be brought in, got to be brought in somehow,” M.D., The Lover. John Donne A Hymn to God the Father Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before? Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run, Robert Frost Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire Ian Williams Echolalia Once one gets what one wants one no longer wants it. One no longer wants what? Eve Joseph You knock on the door Juliane Okot Bitek Day 62 Unless you believe in the eye of the needle this kind of poverty will never be about material it won't be about ragged clothing or mud huts with broken walls or river blindness Tongo Eisen-Martin For My Best Friend We are losing the intensive care unit waiting room war We were doing so well So well we got sleepy Sara Teasdale Barter Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, 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 Hoa Nguyen My Idea of the Circus Is My Idea of the Circus Otherwise Known As: My Mother Was a Celebrated Stunt Motorcyclist, Vietnam, 1958 to 1962 Very loud a mad frenzy The wooden barrel she rode would have roared (I first wrote “road”) David Alexander Parable of the Eagle An eagle egg fell into a farmer’s chicken shed and when it hatched the farmer gave it chicken feed even though he was the king of birds. The farmer clipped the eaglet’s princely beak and raised him Russell Atkins Coffee mornings have bulk and that saves them from immediate death— Afua Cooper At the Centre Today doves flew from my head and my hair grew the longing is gone from my body Raoul Fernandes An Online Friend Dies Somewhere Outside the Internet Freezes, goes blue screen, shuts down. Dead pixel, dark. Ghost echoes, lossy in the source code. Time zones away, people who have actually shaken hands with my online friend Robert Frost Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view H. D. Helen All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives William Butler Yeats An Irish Airman Foresees His Death I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea Adam Posed Could our first father, at his toilsome plow, Thorns in his path, and labor on his brow, Clothed only in a rude, unpolished skin, Kim Hyesoon Icicle Glasses Day thirty-nine The thing that death gave you — your face leaks your face overflows Your face is the grave of your nose your face is the grave of your ears Ada Limón We Are Surprised Now, we take the moon into the middle of our brains so we look like roadside stray cats with bright flashlight-white eyes in our faces, but no real ideas of when or where to run. Anne Bradstreet The Author to Her Book Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain, Who after birth didst by my side remain, Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true, e.e. cummings somewhere i have never travelled somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, Tolu Oloruntoba Tinderbox We were a conflagration asking to be incarnated into the world. Mother, superstitious, kept us apart, two stones of the same igneous anger. Everyone saucered tears Charles G. D. Roberts The Potato Harvest A high bare field, brown from the plough, and borne Aslant from sunset; amber wastes of sky Washing the ridge; a clamour of crows that fly Neil Surkan On High There was busy air there, air seething through the leaves so, from farther up, the tree-line shone like a single scintillating polyhedron. Still, though ravens and wrens flaked off the top, William Blake Introduction to the Songs of Innocence Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, T. S. Eliot La Figlia che Piange O quam te memorem virgo... Stand on the highest pavement of the stair — Lean on a garden urn — 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 Theodore Roethke My Papa’s Waltz The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: 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, 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 John Clare I Am I am — yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes — Natalie Scenters-Zapico Buen Esqueleto Life is short & I tell this to mis hijas. Life is short & I show them how to talk to police without opening the door, how to leave the social security number blank 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; Dorothy Parker One Perfect Rose A single flow’r he sent me, since we met. All tenderly his messenger he chose; Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet— Damian Rogers Good Day Villanelle You ran naked out the door. The neighbours laughed; I chased you down. I hardly see you anymore. 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. Dane Swan Pride A half-hour. Thirty minutes. One thousand eight hundred seconds. They sat. Bob Hicok Love poem The woman I love braids her hair. She’s Eve and Eve means breathe, to give life, my wife, from Eva by way of the Hebrew havah. At dusk I unlock her hair Language English