Search Categories - Any -25 Lines or FewerCanadaPre 21st Century21st Century Grade levels 7-9 / Sec. 1-3 10-12 / Sec. 4 & 5 / CEGEP 1 Sort by RandomNewestMost popularA -> ZZ -> A Apply Tommy Pico You can’t be an NDN person in today’s world You can't be an NDN person in today's world and write a nature poem. I swore to myself I would never write a nature poem. Let's be clear, I hate nature — hate its guts Dina Del Bucchia Wow! You’ve Changed You’ve changed. You used to be so and now you’re all like, you’ve transformed I don’t know how to describe it’s like you don’t like canasta anymore you text IN ALL CAPS Samantha Nock Kiwetinohk Ohci stop at the edge of everything—bend down and stick your hands in the dirt.grab a fist full of soil and pull it close: inhale. Olive Senior Rejected Text for a Tourist Brochure “I saw my land in the morning and O but she was fair” - M.G. Smith, “Jamaica” (1938) I Come see my land Come see my land Tomasz Rozycki Wild Strawberries I'll tell you how it was, what she remembers: the scent of rhubarb and strawberries in the wild where she hid and the cries of the murdered, they do not want to die away. If possible, 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 Ralph Waldo Emerson The Snow-Storm Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o’er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Tina Biello C Wing 1 Your mother is missing, the nurse hovers at the door . Your mother is missing, a bit louder this time. As if this was natural, a daily game of let's find the Italian, Harry Baker Paper People I like people. I’d like some paper people. They’d be purple paper people. Maybe pop-up purple paper people. Proper pop-up purple paper people. Aimé Césaire New Year Out of their torments men carved a flower which they perched on the high plateaus of their faces Evelyn Lau Dear Updike No, nothing much has changed. A year later, the world is still one you’d recognize — no winged cars to clog the air, Erin Robinsong Late Prayer May our weapons be effective feminine inventions that like life. May we blow up like weeds, and be medicinal and everywhere. May the disturbed ground be our pharmacy. May the exhausted Thomas Hardy Hap If but some vengeful god would call to me From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing, Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy, Méira Cook Adam Father He wakes up naked and drunk as a bear on sun-fermented garbage. Hungover and queasy and riled up by bees. Nothing going well today, he moans, life being short and the craft, ah, long. Cole Swensen Constellations There's a general presumption that rhyme is an affair of two. Most expected are, of course, end-rhymes in formal structures—ABAB, etc., but even thinking more loosely, RC Weslowski Let’s Not Get It Together The world has become corrupted from our hearts to the way our gods love us as if they know they’re already dying and they’re determined to drag us down with them Etel Adnan absence. displacement. absence. displacement. waiting. then comes rejection. anger follows. shame makes the beds the shadows jostle between the walls of the scarcely visited cities. Deanna Young Holy Ghost We had no paper then, or we had no pen, or no words. How to say it. We had no voice. No listeners. Just deaf night Jaclyn Desforges #BLESSED Sunbeams aren’t something I notice. Mostly it’s my own breasts, bobbing with effort like I’m a man writing the story of a woman and the way her nipples strain politely Jalal al-Din Rumi Where did the handsome beloved go? Where did the handsome beloved go? I wonder, where did that tall, shapely cypress tree go? He spread his light among us like a candle. Where did he go? So strange, where did he go without me? Natalie Scenters-Zapico Lima Limón :: Madurez I wear a peineta & pin a mantilla to my hair I want to be Conchita Piquer warning women about becoming lemons. The goal: tener alguien quien me quiera. I want to be my mother singing me Sennah Yee Internet Safety My dad taught me to never give out my real name, age, address, or photos. This seemed obvious to me. My fake birthday entry was always my crush's birthday plus a 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 William Butler Yeats The Lake Isle of Innisfree I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, Fred Moten epistrophe and epistrophy some ekphrastic evening, this will be both criticism and poetry and failing that fall somewhere that seems like in between. this both/ and and/ or neither/ nor machine comes in having been touched Di Brandt my mother found herself my mother found herself one late summer afternoon lying in grass under the wild yellow plum tree jewelled with sunlight she was forgotten there in spring picking rhubarb for pie & the children home from 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, Kaveh Akbar How Prayer Works Tucked away in our tiny bedroom so near each other the edge of my prayer rug covered the edge of his, my brother and I prayed. We were 18 and 11 maybe, or 19 and 12. He was back from college where he built his own e.e. cummings anyone lived in a pretty how town anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter Liz Howard 1992 This is our welfare half a duplex with mint green siding shrugged between Naomi Shihab Nye The Young Poets of Winnipeg scurried around a classroom papered with poems. Even the ceiling, pink and orange quilts of phrase... they introduced one another, perched on a tiny stage to read their work, blessed their teacher who Robert W. Service The Men That Don’t Fit In There’s a race of men that don’t fit in, A race that can’t stay still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, Noor Naga Sharing Anne Carson From Red Doc GOODLOOKING BOY wasn’t he / yes/ blond / yes / I do vaguely / you never liked Marjorie Pickthall The Wife Living, I had no might To make you hear, Now, in the inmost night, Jessica Johns How Not to Spill Dad has creases on his hands so thick they could split with a poke. He gestures for me to try so I do. His skin bends on a hinge and out spills every good and bad thing: cattails from our Edgar Lee Masters Mrs. Kessler Mr. Kessler, you know, was in the army, And he drew six dollars a month as a pension, And stood on the corner talking politics, Lucille Clifton won’t you celebrate with me won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up John Milton Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw my Late Espoused Saint Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, Whom Jove’s great son to her glad… 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 Pagination « First First page ‹ Previous Previous page … 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 … Next › Next page Last » Last page Language English