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 Wallace Stevens The Emperor of Ice-Cream Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds. Marvin Frances more treaty lines 1790 → treaty 2, district of Hesse (step into wolf) province of quebec “We do herby certify that the following goods were delivered to the several Nations” Walt Whitman Beat! Beat! Drums! Beat! beat! drums! — blow! bugles! blow! Through the windows — through doors — burst like a ruthless force, Into the solemn church, and scatter the congregation, 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 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 Layli Long Soldier From Whereas Whereas my eyes land on the shoreline of “the arrival of Europeans in North America opened a new chapter in the history of Native Peoples.” Because in others, I hate the act H. D. Helen All Greece hates the still eyes in the white face, the lustre as of olives Kevin Irie Current The sludge-slow flow of the visible current opens a path we can’t continue, tugs at what no hand can pull along. It’s how even water loses memory, travels a direction it cannot find, Paul Laurence Dunbar We Wear the Mask We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, — This debt we pay to human guile; Ilya Kaminsky We Lived Happily during the War And when they bombed other people’s houses, we protested but not enough, we opposed them but not enough. I was in my bed, around my bed America Ocean Vuong Deto(nation) There’s a joke that ends with — huh? It’s the bomb saying here is your father. Now here is your father inside your lungs. Look how lighter the earth is — afterward. Tomasz Rózycki 11. Headwinds When I began to write, I didn’t know each of my words would bit by bit remove things from the world and in return leave blank David Groulx On Seeing a Photograph of My Mother at St. Joseph Residential School for Girls A black and white picture The sun is shining through a window behind you Your hair black short Your small brown hands folded neatly on a tiny wooden desk Stevie Smith Not Waving But Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man, But still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought 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 Robert Creeley Self-Portrait He wants to be a brutal old man, an aggressive old man, Ward Maxwell grass grass is unusual it was invented by the Romans unlike most people grass stays where it grows if grass had gone to the moon it would be there today because grass looks luxurious 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); Robert Browning Life in a Love Escape me? Never — Beloved! William Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII: Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day? Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, Pierre Nepveu Last Visit Now I set out across a minefield, space having taken all I owned, I’m starting over from a point where every pebble may explode beneath my shoe and the flowers blaze up behind my body as I gasp for air, Yusuf Saadi Spacetime We Twitter, Tinder, Tumblr through eternity. Loquacious text messages flit from fingertips, waves of data spill through our skulls. Every cm2 of oxygen overflowing Dane Swan Pride A half-hour. Thirty minutes. One thousand eight hundred seconds. They sat. Protest is not supposed to be comfortable. Ian Williams Echolalia Once one gets what one wants one no longer wants it. One no longer wants what? Edgar Allan Poe “Alone” From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were — I have not seen As others saw — I could not bring 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 Gertrude Stein Susie Asado Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. Susie Asado. Sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet tea. 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… Edgar Allan Poe A Dream Within a Dream Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow — Alexander Pope Ode on Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, Chantal Gibson Veronica? What's it like at the centre of the AGO? Hmm. Imagine being coloured, drawn, and placed in a wooden frame, another hung woman, positioned Brandon Wint From: Incantation: Memory of Water Tonight, a strand of my great-grandmother’s hair sashes an amber beer bottle discarded by a tourist. A white thread of my grandmother’s baptismal robe is a bangle on a wrist of kelp 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, Robin Coste-Lewis Mother Church #3 KIN KLETSO/YELLOW HOUSE CHACO CANYON, SAN JUAN COUNTY, NEW MEXICO ANASAZI RUINS, AD 1125-1130 For Henri, at 2 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, Maggie Estep Scab Maids on Speed My first job was when I was about 15. I had met a girl named Hope who became my best friend. Hope and I were flunking math class so we became speed freaks. This honed our 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. Vanessa Angélica Villarreal Praying Herd: For Safe Journey Draw a line through our scattered bodies. The pattern of fallen calves in this meadow will mirror the constellation above. Look up. We whip our tails to a silent song: Sarah Yi-Mei Tsiang Winter House My father threw his language overboard, a bag of kittens, waterlogged mewling: small hard bodies. My mother hung on to hers — Wove the words like lace, an open web Stanley Kunitz The Portrait My mother never forgave my father for killing himself, especially at such an awkward time and in a public park, that spring when I was waiting to be born. She locked his name Language English