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 John Keats When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-pilèd books, in charactery, Matthew Rohrer Dog Boy ONE Late at night in Oklahoma, a very small, an extremely small man ran across the road in front of my friend’s car. He does not doubt this is real, though the rest of us do, and it doesn’… Bunkong Tuon Moon in Khmer You are light when the sun is punched out and darkness reigns. You are the antidote to what came before: black blood, black heart, hands tied, kneeling before a ditch of human bones. William Shakespeare Sonnet LV: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Not marble nor the gilded monuments Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme, But you shall shine more bright in these contents Sharon Thesen Mean Drunk Poem Backward & down into inbetween as Vicki says. Or as Robin teaches the gap, from which all things emerge. A left handed compliment. Bats… 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: 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, 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 Natalie Shapero Not Horses What I adore is not horses, with their modern domestic life span of 25 years. What I adore is a bug that lives only one day, especially if it’s a terrible day, a day of train derailment or Ariana Reines Inner Life Those tweets I sent about Duke Ellington While my mom was being evicted again According to what ethics under the sun Can I possibly have been speaking? A Kind of private feeling I can’t even place here George Elliott Clarke Blank Sonnet The air smells of rhubarb, occasional Roses, or first birth of blossoms, a fresh, Undulant hurt, so body snaps and curls Rita Wong fluorine arsenic in calculators, mercury in felt hats, mad as a poisoned hatter pyrophoric undercurrent in mundane Matthew Zapruder Sun Bear yesterday at the Oakland zoo I was walking alone for a moment past the enclosure holding the sun bear Nicole Brossard Smooth Horizon of the Verb Love 1 an urban image from the eighties when we hung out at Chez Madame Arthur Leonard Cohen I Have Not Lingered in European Monasteries I have not lingered in European monasteries and discovered among the tall grasses tombs of knights who fell as beautifully as their ballads… 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 Raymond Souster Lagoons, Hanlan’s Point Mornings before the sun’s liquid spilled gradually, flooding 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 Chimwemwe Undi A History of Houses Built Out of Spite Anne Bradstreet Before the Birth of One of Her Children All things within this fading world hath end, Adversity doth still our joyes attend; No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet, Gerard Manley Hopkins The Windhover I caught this morning morning’s minion, king- dom of daylight’s dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding Of the rolling… Charles Lamb Thoughtless Cruelty There, Robert, you have kill’d that fly — , And should you thousand ages try The life you’ve taken to supply, Margaret Atwood They are hostile nations 1 In view of the fading animals the proliferation of sewers and fears 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 Walt Whitman Come Up From the Fields Father Come up from the fields father, here’s a letter from our Pete, And come to the front door mother, here’s a letter from thy dear son. Lo, ’tis autumn Ivanna Baranova confirmation bias at least in our waking life most commemoration doubles as force since even the most benign zodiacal conceptions are tinged eurocentric when brown women die P. K. Page Planet Earth It has to be loved the way a laundress loves her linens, the way she moves her hands caressing the fine muslins knowing their warp and woof, like a lover coaxing, or a mother praising. 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 — bp Nichol Two Words: A Wedding There are things you have words for, things you do not have words for. There are words that encompass all your feelings & words that… 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 Alexander Pope Ode on Solitude Happy the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, Paul Laurence Dunbar Invitation to Love Come when the nights are bright with stars Or when the moon is mellow; Come when the sun his golden bars Drops on the hay-field yellow. Come in the twilight soft and gray, 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… Joanne Arnott world shapers creation stories are lullabies for grown-ups they remind us of all the possible ways & means that worlds… 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, 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 Tiana Clark The Ayes Have It When I think of Trayvon Martin, I think of Emmett Till, when I think of Emmett Till, I think of young, black men in the South, then I think of young, white men in the South. Queen Elizabeth I On Monsieur’s Departure I grieve and dare not show my discontent, I love and yet am forced to seem to hate, I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, Damian Rogers Good Day Villanelle You ran naked out the door. The neighbours laughed; I chased you down. I hardly see you anymore. Billy Collins Introduction to Poetry I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide Language English