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 Charles Sangster Sonnet VII from ‘Sonnets Written in the Orillia Woods’ Our life is like a forest, where the sun Glints down upon us through the throbbing leaves;… William Butler Yeats The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, Patricia Smith Hip-Hop Ghazal Gotta love us brown girls, munching on fat, swinging blue hips, decked out in shells and splashes, Lawdie, bringing them woo hips. As the jukebox teases, watch my sistas throat the heartbreak, Yone Noguchi The Poet Out of the deep and the dark, A sparkling mystery, a shape, Something perfect, 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. Gerard Manley Hopkins As Kingfishers Catch Fire As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s Kazim Ali Ramadan You wanted to be so hungry, you would break into branches, and have to choose between the starving month’s nineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-third evenings. Billy Collins Introduction to Poetry I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide Lorna Crozier Not the Music Not the music. It is this other thing I keep from all of them that matters, inviolable. I scratch in my journals, a mouse rummaging through cupboards, 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, 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 Robert Herrick To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today George Murray Cowboy Story The books sit on the shelf, a row of coma patients in a ward, a series of selves no longer able to learn and trapped at the point of injury: the last page. David McGimpsey 71. Song for a Silent Treatment. I told her, in plain language, how I felt. And by that I mean I mumbled a poorly paraphrased and already… Alice Oswald A Short Story of Falling It is the story of the falling rain to turn into a leaf and fall again it is the secret of a summer shower to steal the light and hide it in a flower and every flower a tiny tributary George Herbert Love (III) Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack Ulrikka Gernes K was supposed to come with the key, I was K was supposed to come with the key, I was to wait outside the gate. I arrived on time, the time we had agreed on and waited, as agreed, Gerard Manley Hopkins Pied Beauty Glory be to God for dappled things — For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim… Souvankham Thammavongsa Gayatri I have a picture of us when we are seven but we aren’t in it. At the time it was taken we thought we were. We posed with our wide Damian Rogers Good Day Villanelle You ran naked out the door. The neighbours laughed; I chased you down. I hardly see you anymore. Edgar Albert Guest It Couldn’t Be Done Somebody said that it couldn’t be done But he with a chuckle replied That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one 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 Charlotte Smith Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes! How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn! For me wilt thou renew the withered rose, Robert Frost Reluctance Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view 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, Dina Del Bucchia Wow! You've Changed You’ve changed. You used to be so and now you’re all like, you’ve transformed I don’t know how to describe it’s like you don’t like canasta anymore you text IN ALL CAPS Dylan Thomas Should Lanterns Shine Should lanterns shine, the holy face, Caught in an octagon of unaccustomed light, Would wither up, an any boy of love Marjorie Pickthall The Wife Living, I had no might To make you hear, Now, in the inmost night, Rita Joe I Lost My Talk I lost my talk The talk you took away. When I was a little girl At Shubenacadie school. You snatched it away: I speak like you I think like you I create like you William Cowper Light Shining out of Darkness God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, Anne Michaels From Correspondences Sometimes we are led through the doorway by a child, sometimes by a stranger, always a matter of grace changing Bernard Ferguson juxtaposition with seeds i thought you were gone / stupid bird / darling worms shifting in the mud / this time i am not so certain / is it kinship or are you gloating? / have i grown bitter with the bees / how they bring the blooms reliably? Oliver Wendell Holmes Old Ironsides Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see Sadiqa de Meijer Women Do This Every Day At the park I look for Levita, because our work is the same— swaying wide-legged over foraging toddlers, we avert bruises, discourage the consumption Abdellatif Laâbi Two Hours on the Train During two hours on the train I rerun the film of my life Two minutes per year on average Half an hour for childhood Another half-hour for prison Love, books, wandering take up the rest 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. Christian Bök From Chapter I Writing is inhibiting. Sighing, I sit, scribbling in ink this pidgin script. I sing with nihilistic witticism, disciplining signs with trifling gimmicks — impish William Blake The Chimney Sweeper: A little black thing among the snow A little black thing among the snow, Crying “weep! ‘weep!” in notes of woe! “Where are thy father and mother? say?” 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, John Milton Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw my Late Espoused Saint Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, Whom Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave… Language English