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 Rupert Brooke The Soldier If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be Lorine Niedecker What horror to awake at night What horror to awake at night and in the dimness see the light. Time is white Claudia Rankine from Citizen The rain this morning pours from the gutters and everywhere else it is lost in the trees. You need your glasses to single out what you know is there because Raoul Fernandes An Online Friend Dies Somewhere Outside the Internet Freezes, goes blue screen, shuts down. Dead pixel, dark. Ghost echoes, lossy in the source code. Time zones away, people who have actually shaken hands with my online friend Ron Padgett Prose Poem (“The morning coffee.”) The morning coffee. I’m not sure why I drink it. Maybe it’s the ritual of the cup, the spoon, the hot water, the milk, and the little heap of brown grit, the way they come together to form a nail I can hang the Pamela Mordecai My sister cries the sea My sister is crying and crying her tears grow to salt stormy showers to rain and to rapids and rivers they run to the sea to the sea. My sister sobs softly she knows 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. Susan Holbrook What Is Poetry (a twelve-tone poem) trite yap show rosy twit heap 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, Sarah de Leeuw Skeena Crossing What is this this crossing? In the photo just in front of the train with the crane at the edge of the drop off from track into river E. Pauline Johnson Marshlands A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim, And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim. The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould, 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 Ada Limón The Raincoat When the doctor suggested surgery and a brace for all my youngest years, my parents scrambled to take me to massage therapy, deep tissue work, osteopathy, and soon my crooked spine Ian Keteku Moment One I remember my birth like it was tomorrow, the unholy sensation Anne Michaels From Correspondences Sometimes we are led through the doorway by a child, sometimes by a stranger, always a matter of grace changing 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 — 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 Robert Burns Ae Fond Kiss Tune: Rory Dall’s Port First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792. Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; one Michael Crummey Newfoundland Sealing Disaster Sent to the ice after white coats, rough outfit slung on coiled rope belts, they stooped to the slaughter: gaffed pups, 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, Neil Surkan On High There was busy air there, air seething through the leaves so, from farther up, the tree-line shone like a single scintillating polyhedron. Still, though ravens and wrens flaked off the top, Mercedes Eng Mariah according to my yt mama when I try to talk to my mom about what it was like to grow up surrounded by yt people in the prairies in the 80s though it seemed like the 50s she tells me in a so-there tone Suzanne Buffam Dream Jobs Random Link Clicker. Royal Bath Taker. Receiver of Foot Rubs and Praise. William Butler Yeats When You Are Old When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look 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, Jason Camlot Dear Death, Am I a praise poet or a blame poet? Today I am a blame poet. O Death, face it, existence doesn’t like you. You can’t sing. You can’t paint. 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 Hoa Nguyen My Idea of the Circus Is My Idea of the Circus Otherwise Known As: My Mother Was a Celebrated Stunt Motorcyclist, Vietnam, 1958 to 1962 Very loud a mad frenzy The wooden barrel she rode would have roared (I first wrote “road”) Ben Ladouceur Tractatus The sun gave our shoulder blades ulu-shaped burns, and the sun gives nothing to our sort I sleep now, and furiously Clouds excreted shadows on the shoreline, and there were no clouds Joy Kogawa Where There’s a Wall Where there’s a wall there’s a way through a gate or door. There’s even 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 Jen Sookfong Lee Community Garden There, the bolting black kale, taller than it has any right to be and not the twitter troll who asked if you were on your period. In the corner, a pile of dead zucchini leaves, spotted with rot Charles G. D. Roberts The Potato Harvest A high bare field, brown from the plough, and borne Aslant from sunset; amber wastes of sky Washing the ridge; a clamour of crows… 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 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; Lauren Turner from Quit Dying to Die When the doctors burrowed into my body, they unearthed a slew of tumours. Growths speckled across lungs and kidneys. (Later, they would find the duo nestled into my cortex.) A Starry Night, the ultrasound technician titled my organs… Suzanne Buffam The New Experience I was ready for a new experience. All the old ones had burned out. They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside 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, 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, Molly CROSS-BLANCHARD Dear Dolphin The shaman at Broadway and Main with a plastic shaker and some sage says you’re my power animal. Says we both have big brains, like to chatter. I don’t know anything about dolphins, except Language English