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 Alfred, Lord Tennyson Crossing the Bar Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, Spencer Reece At Thomas Merton’s Grave We can never be with loss too long. Behind the warped door that sticks, the wood thrush calls to the monks, Weyman Chan But I’m No One for M. Maylor Dear Anne Carson: My friend read me the poem where your mom said that the dead walk backwards. You thought this myth arose from poor translation. Christina Rossetti Amor Mundi “Oh where are you going with your love-locks flowing On the west wind blowing along this valley track?” “The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye, Gary Snyder Riprap Lay down these words Before your mind like rocks. placed solid, by hands Luljeta Lleshanaku January 1, Dawn After the celebrations, people, TV channels, telephones, the year’s recently-corrected digit finally falls asleep. Between the final night and the first dawn a jagged piece of sky 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 Margaret Avison The Swimmer’s Moment For everyone The swimmer's moment at the whirlpool comes, But many at that moment will not say Don McKay Sometimes a Voice (1) Sometimes a voice — have you heard this? — wants not to be voice any longer, wants something whispering between the words, some Edwin Arlington Robinson Richard Cory Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, 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 Lucille Clifton forgiving my father it is friday. we have come to the paying of the bills. all week you have stood in my dreams like a ghost, asking for more time but today is payday, payday old man; my mother’s hand opens in her early grave 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 So sleepy the institution returned Wallace Stevens The Snow Man One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, 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. William Shakespeare Spring When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Sir Walter Raleigh The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd If all the world and love were young, And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move, 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. Nicole Brossard Smooth Horizon of the Verb Love 1 an urban image from the eighties when we hung out at Chez Madame Arthur Walt Whitman A Noiseless Patient Spider A noiseless patient spider, I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated, Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding, Marilyn Dumont Let the Ponies Out oh papa, to have you drift up, some part of you drift up through water through fresh water into the teal plate of sky soaking foothills, papa, Shirley Camia Sorting through Documents at Dawn three crosses appear on the tv screen following a sweep of my hair that felt like your hand maybe i dreamt it but i so badly Fevziye Rahgozar Barlas An Innocent Little Girl The little girl is innocent they’ve put henna on her hands they’ve plaited her hair beautifully they’ve put kohl round her eyes they’ve dyed her eyebrows Bronwen Wallace Common Magic Your best friend falls in love and her brain turns to water. You can watch her lips move, Ian Keteku Moment One I remember my birth like it was tomorrow, the unholy sensation 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 Kyger A Story from Easter: He Has Risen There is a mouse under the sink Little mouse turds around in the kitchen drawers It is raining, storming The refrigerator has gone to the dump Donald's back 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 Sachiko Murakami Wishing Well My fist holds as many coins as I can carry. All are stamped with the Queen's effigy; Elizabeth, D.G. Regina, the resident of pockets, a woman I've never met though I always know 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 Emily Dickinson “Hope” is the thing with feathers— “Hope” is the thing with feathers — That perches in the soul — And sings the tune without the words — Pat Lowther A Stone Diary At the beginning I noticed the huge stones on my path I knew instinctively dg nanouk okpik Moon of the Returning Sun A view from two sides of Polaris, it is said: the living awaits destined relatives to retort. These people go around waking the sleeping ones Roxanna Bennett The Trick Let me be a ''poet of cripples" not a patient etherized upon a table, not a brain floating within a body. In a moment I must be a body in the place incision produces in a body, Adebe D. A. Ex Libris I come from the land of Where You From? My people dispossessed of their stories and who have died again and again in a minstrelsy of afterlives, wakes, the dead who walk, waiting and 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 Lord (George Gordon) Byron She Walks in Beauty She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Adonis Ali Ahmad Said Esber The Wound I. Leaves, asleep under wind: a ship for the wound. The wound glories in these ruinous times. Trees growing in our own eyelashes a lake for the wound. The wound shows up in bridges Billy-Ray Belcourt If Our Bodies Could Rust, We Would Be Falling Apart the law mandates that a hate crime only be classified as such if there is ample evidence to show that one’s actions were motivated by prejudice toward an individual’s nationality, ethnicity, sexuality, gender, etc. 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 Language English