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 Lindsay Nixon niya Gregory Scofield I’ll Teach You Cree with the tip of my spring tongue, ayîki your mouth will be the web catching apihkêsis words, Nancy Jo Cullen a good day it was very sad the day we heard that dad would die but it was also fun because all my friends came over and we went driving in the blue Toyota that kelly’s sister terry drove and i was the center of attention 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 Ted Berrigan Hall of Mirrors To Kristin Lems We miss something now as we think about it Chantal Gibson How She Read Oh, how she read this. Girl beloved daughter of daughters blood, kin, and kind sagacious grammarian post-fly phoneticist Megan Fernandes Conversion sam says you can’t name your book good boys without a dog but sam doesn’t know that i am the dog i am the ultimate mutt and i am telling him this story Canisia Lubrin Sons of Orion for Alton Sterling, Andrew Loku, Philando Castile, et al. I wanna live, son. But which son are you? There where the rivers are made of moonshine and the lights still wait, Norman Dubie The Novel As Manuscript An ars poetica I remember the death, in Russia, of postage stamps James Langer St John’s Burns Down for the Umpteenth Time Let’s say the fix was in. Let’s say history, Being human and thus short on ideas, Made change from an old bag of tricks. Say this Chen Chen Self-Portrait as So Much Potential Dreaming of one day being as fearless as a mango. As friendly as a tomato. Merciless to chin & shirtfront. Realizing I hate the word “sip.” But that’s all I do. 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”) Kaie Kellough Mantra of No Return my mother occupies the passenger seat. my brother and i stick in the back. Nathaniel Mackey On Antiphon Island — “mu” twenty-eighth part — On Antiphon Island they lowered the bar and we bent back. It wasn't limbo we were in albeit 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 Sonnet L'Abbé Poor Speaker I understand you. I get what you’re trying to say. What you’re trying to say is you want me to get it. I get it. You want me to understand. You want me to know Noor Naga Sharing Mina Assadi The Dictator’s Message The Dictator’s Message O poets return, we have swept your homeland clean of thorns and splinters O writers return, to make a record of your works 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 Dan Taulapapa McMullin Turtle Island Poem Number Fourteen once i left turtle island and i rejoined la and doubleU and see to savai‘i on a hunting trip on the fairy from upolu la picked up a day trick blew him during lunch 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. Afua Cooper At the Centre Today doves flew from my head and my hair grew the longing is gone from my body 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, Sarah Tolmie 39 Oliver Sacks is going to die, He tells us blithely in the New York Times. He’s 81. His liver’s shot. He’s blind in one eye Though when both worked fine 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 Hoa Nguyen Blousy Guitar Blousy guitar I don’t want to count the beats Hey Hey My pen I have bed hair in the best way Daughter of sunlight and air and I’m glad you were born Lucia Misch The Problem With Being a Box Too Small for Its Contents Love, you ask too many questions. Let’s agree: we are whole Joseph Dandurand The First Day When I was five I was put on a bus and sent to Catholic school not unlike my mother who was five when she was put on a train and sent to residential school, both feeling that gut feeling 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 Patrick Lane Passing into Storm Know him for a white man. He walks sideways into wind allowing the left of him to forget what the right knows as cold. His ears turn into death what Rosanna Deerchild the second time i ask mama about residential school she says no i ask her again she says no the third time i stop listen to her silence Denise Riley Under the Answering Sky I can manage being alone, can pace out convivial hope across my managing ground. Someone might call, later. What do the dead make of us that we’d flay ourselves trying Adam Pottle School for the Deaf You gasp, awakened by a bucket of cold water. A gauzy autumn morning. A drained sunrise. You shiver, strain to see the house parent’s fingers whipping & flicking in 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 Conor Kerr What Do You Believe In? Do you believe in the ghosts of aunties and uncles that drive old sin- gle-bench pickup trucks spotted with bullet-hole rust, sweetgrass and Susan Holbrook What Is Poetry (a twelve-tone poem) trite yap show rosy twit heap 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” Rowan Ricardo Phillips Little Song Both guitars run trebly. One noodles Over a groove. The other slushes chords. Then they switch. It’s quite an earnest affair. Tyler Pennock I have so many now. I have so many now. There’s one where we were giants, playing with our size by falling over houses and trees, laughing. There’s another where I was racing the old ones in a game, and we stopped 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, Language English