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 Phyllis Webb The Days of the Unicorns I remember when the unicorns roved in herds through the meadow behind the cabin, and how they would 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. Robert Frost The Road Not Taken Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood Robert Frost Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire Jalal al-Din Rumi Great Intimacy It is like an exquisite spider web, this world, but I don't get trapped. I have ceased to tie the strings of one shoe to another in the morning, William Ernest Henley Invictus Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be Anna Laetitia Barbauld The Rights of Woman Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right! Woman! too long degraded, scorned, oppressed; O born to rule in partial Law’s despite, Kim Addonizio Aquarium The fish are drifting calmly in their tank between the green reeds, lit by a white glow that passes for the sun. Blindly, the blank glass that holds them in displays their slow Jody Chan aubade for the BPD subreddit user who wrote can people with BPD love? bedtime ritual summon a stranger tonight you linger on my laptop screen Thomas Hardy The Man He Killed “Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have sat us down to wet Benjamin Garcia Bliss Point or What Can Best Be Achieved by Cheese A.k.a. the other gold. Now that's the stuff, 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, Ezra Pound The River-Merchant’s Wife: A Letter After Li Po While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead I played about the front gate, pulling flowers. T. S. Eliot Journey of the Magi “A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: Sue Goyette Eight The trick to building houses was making sure they didn’t taste good. The ocean’s culinary taste was growing more sophisticated and occasionally Suzannah Showler Too Negative I was a kid other kids’ parents gossiped about. They told their children what I was: too negative. I get it. Fair to fear contagion of bad attitudes, Etel Adnan absence. displacement. absence. displacement. waiting. then comes rejection. anger follows. shame makes the beds the shadows jostle between the walls of the scarcely visited cities. Bronwen Wallace Common Magic Your best friend falls in love and her brain turns to water. You can watch her lips move, Paul Muldoon The Loaf When I put my finger to the hole they’ve cut for a dimmer switch in a wall of plaster stiffened with horsehair it seems I’ve scratched a two-hundred-year-old itch Sina Queyras Five Postcards from Jericho Dear Regret, my leaning this morning, my leather foot, want of stone, age old, my burnished and bruised, hair lingering, hand caked, spongy as November, my dear Relentless, my dear Aging, Majzoob Tabrizi Fire in the Reeds One night, fire fell into a reed bed It burned like love falling onto a soul As fire’s head warmed to its work every reed turned into a candle at its own grave Lara Bozabalian The New School Do you remember, Nancy, when we sat in the Creole restaurant and glanced up at the television to see students running with their hands in the air and photographs of two young men? Robert Creeley Self-Portrait He wants to be a brutal old man, an aggressive old man, Jane Mead From World of Made and Unmade In my dream my mother comes with me. We are in the meadows we call The Flats, walking the dogs. Walk straight past the water trough, she says, do not engage the moss. Ben Jonson Song: To Celia Come, my Celia, let us prove, While we can, the sports of love; Time will not be ours forever; Wilfred Owen Dulce et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs, Joanne Arnott world shapers creation stories are lullabies for grown-ups they remind us of all the possible ways & means that worlds can be born Emily Brontë No Coward Soul Is Mine No coward soul is mine No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere I see Heaven’s glories shine 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, 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 Marjorie Pickthall Père Lalement I lift the Lord on high, Under the murmuring hemlock boughs, and see The small birds of the forest lingering by Charles Lamb Thoughtless Cruelty There, Robert, you have kill’d that fly — , And should you thousand ages try The life you’ve taken to supply, Kamau Brathwaite Guanahani, 11 like the beginnings — o odales o adagios — of islands from under the clouds where I write the first poem its brown warmth now that we recognize them Gwendolyn MacEwen A Breakfast for Barbarians my friends, my sweet barbarians, there is that hunger which is not for food — but an eye at the navel turns the appetite Chen Chen When I Grow Up I Want to Be a List of Further Possibilities To be a good ex/current friend for R. To be one last inspired way to get back at R. To be relationship advice for L. To be advice for my mother. To be a more comfortable Robert Browning My Last Duchess That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall, Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now; Frà Pandolf’s hands William Shakespeare Spring When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Robin Blaser Image-Nation 21 (territory wandering to the other, wandering the spiritual realities, skilled in all ways of contending, he did not search Chantal Gibson How She Read Oh, how she read this. Girl beloved daughter of daughters blood, kin, and kind sagacious grammarian post-fly phoneticist 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 Language English