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 Cedar Sigo Poems for Saints (1) Dennis Lee Bike-Twister Place a foot upon a pedal, Put your pedal-pushers on; To the pedal pin a paddle, Paddle-pedal push upon. Place the paddle-pedal-cycle On a puddle in the park; William Shakespeare Sonnet LV: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents 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 Christopher Marlowe The Passionate Shepherd to His Love Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Kaveh Akbar How Prayer Works Tucked away in our tiny bedroom so near each other the edge of my prayer rug covered the edge of his, my brother and I prayed. We were 18 and 11 maybe, or 19 and 12. He was back from college where he built his own 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, Katherine Philips Epitaph On her Son H.P. at St. Syth’s Church where her body also lies interred What on Earth deserves our trust? Youth and Beauty both are dust. Denise Riley Under the Answering Sky I can manage being alone, can pace out convivial hope across my managing ground. Someone might call, later. What do the dead make of us that we’d flay ourselves trying William Shakespeare Sonnet XV: When I Consider everything that Grows When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Robert Browning Life in a Love Escape me? Never — Beloved! Nathaniel Mackey On Antiphon Island — “mu” twenty-eighth part — On Antiphon Island they lowered the bar and we bent back. It wasn't limbo we were in albeit Carmine Starnino Money Coin Exhibit, British Museum. Their misshapenness strikes the table in tiny splashes, like still-cooling splatters of silver. Stater and shekel, Alexis Pauline Gumbs another set of instructions we are asking you to trust your hands. put them on your heart. trust your heart. hear what we are saying. trust what you hear. we are asking you to build a circle. always a circle. not almost a circle. face Margaret Atwood They are hostile nations 1 In view of the fading animals the proliferation of sewers and fears e.e. cummings anyone lived in a pretty how town anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter 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 Geffrey Davis Unfledged Weekends too my father roofed poor neighborhoods, at prices only his back could carry into profit. In the name of labor’s virtue—or was it another bill collector’s callous 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 … 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. Hart Crane At Melville’s Tomb Often beneath the wave, wide from this ledge The dice of drowned men’s bones he saw bequeath An embassy. Their numbers as he watched, 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. Harryette Mullen it’s rank, it cranks you up it’s rank it cranks you up crash you’re fracked you suck shucks you’re wack you be all you cracked up to be dead on arrival overdosed on whatever excess of hate and love Randy Lundy The Cactus You sit in the forgotten bone-dry hills surrounded by sand and sagebrush above Buffalo Pound Lake. A day and a night, and then three more days and nights. 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. Dante Gabriel Rossetti Insomnia Thin are the night-skirts left behind By daybreak hours that onward creep, And thin, alas! the shred of sleep 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 Joshua Whitehead Full Metal Oji-Cree this is the transsensorium there are indo-robo-women fighting cowboys on the frontier & winning finally the premodern is a foundation for the postmodern wintermute, tessier-ashpool, armitage 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 Amber Dawn The Ringing Bell I used to liken a poem to praying. Is that right? Not the woo and gratitude praying served by queer witches. Childhood praying. As a girl I genuflected to the tabernacle Marie Annharte Baker Saskatchewan Indians Were Dancing 60s pulled us from starvation into government jobs antiquated Indians in Saskatchewan danced for rain Manitoba Indian doings were hidden for a jealous 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, houses of parliament, giants, stones. Robert Frost Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view 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. Alootook Ipellie Walking Both Sides of an Invisible Border It is never easy Walking with an invisible border Separating my left and right foot Carolyn Forché The Colonel WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD is true. I was in his house. His wife carried a tray of coffee and sugar. His daughter filed her nails, his son went out for the night. There were daily papers, pet dogs, a pistol on the Natalie Diaz From The First Water is the Body 2345*. The river is my sister—I am its daughter. It is my hands when I drink from it, my own eye when I am weeping, and my desire when I ache like a yucca bell Donika Kelly From the Catalogue of Cruelty Once, I slapped my sister with the back of my hand. We were so small, but I wanted to know how it felt: my hand raised high across the opposite shoulder, slicing down like a trapeze. Ralph Waldo Emerson Experience The lords of life, the lords of life, — I saw them pass, In their own guise, 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 Language English