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 Leanne Betasamosake Simpson i am graffiti i am writing to tell you that yes, indeed, we have noticed 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 Jillian Christmas Northern Light Stepping off the plane in Whitehorse the last thing I expect to feel is home not quite alone but close enough here in this great black north. As we drive away from the airport Lee Maracle War In my body flows the blood of Gallic Bastille stormers and the soft, gentle ways of Salish/Cree womanhood. Nicole Brossard Smooth Horizon of the Verb Love 1 an urban image from the eighties when we hung out at Chez Madame Arthur Robert Bringhurst These Poems, She Said These poems, these poems, these poems, she said, are poems with no love in them. These are the poems of a man 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, Tolu Oloruntoba Tinderbox We were a conflagration asking to be incarnated into the world. Mother, superstitious, kept us apart, two stones of the same igneous anger. Everyone saucered tears Don McKay Sometimes a Voice (1) Sometimes a voice — have you heard this? — wants not to be voice any longer, wants something whispering between the words, some Juliane Okot Bitek Day 62 Unless you believe in the eye of the needle this kind of poverty will never be about material it won't be about ragged clothing or mud huts with broken walls or river blindness Michael Prior A Hundred and Fifty Pounds In some, the luggage lies open like a mouth mid-sentence. In others, closed zippers grimace: What would you have brought? Slippers, a stuffed platypus, a gold watch Aisha Sasha John The limpness of a bird’s legs in flight. The place, the question, the question. The place, the interest, the question. There is the place. There is what you do in the place. There is your belief. Isabella Valancy Crawford The Dark Stag A startled stag, the blue-grey Night, Leaps down beyond black pines. Behind — a length of yellow light — Margaret Atwood They are hostile nations 1 In view of the fading animals the proliferation of sewers and fears John Ashbery Interesting People of Newfoundland Newfoundland is, or was, full of interesting people. Like Larry, who would make a fool of himself on street corners for a nickel. There… F. R. Scott Laurentian Shield Hidden in wonder and snow, or sudden with summer, This land stares at the sun in a huge silence Endlessly repeating something we cannot… George Bowering Pale Blue Cover In the middle of the night Matt would fly to Vancouver so he could take a walk on the sea wall the next day, then go home. Wouldnt tell anyone, no telephone call, just run a… Jessie Loyer pimîhkân Here's how you make pemmican 1. wiyâs 2. pânisâwân 3. kâhkêwak 4. yîwahikanak 5. pimîhkân Here's how you make pemmican 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 Riddle Holy Beings on the day the chief of kâ-awâsis announces they have confirmed 751 bodies in unmarked graves outside the residential “school” in their community, i google things like: Richard Harrison With the Dying of the Light I recited to him, Now as I was young and easy, and in the cough-afflicted wheeze that was left of my father’s voice, Stuart Ross I Have Something to Tell You I’ve come to talk to you about shaving cuts I was waiting across the road right over there for the light to turn and you were on the other side fumbling with change at the newspaper box Christian Bök From Chapter I Writing is inhibiting. Sighing, I sit, scribbling in ink this pidgin script. I sing with nihilistic witticism, disciplining signs with trifling gimmicks — impish Hana Shafi Bad Brown Girl i can barely speak in my mother tongues stutter my accent is bad i hate jalebi but i like aloo samosa i'm a bad brown girl i didn't join the SAA or the ISA Ken Babstock Fire Watch Hello, listen, I’m on a field phone, do not speak until I say “over.” Repeat, don’t talk until I say “over.” Over. Do you understand,… Diana Hope Tegenkamp Clouds My father’s green Pontiac 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 Chuqiao Yang Family Tree My imaginary brother speaks of our migration and history,how time pulses like the green waterin the South Saskatchewan that sputters by our home,success measured in how still he’d lie after wandering Archibald Lampman Heat From plains that reel to southward, dim, The road runs by me white and bare; Up the steep hill it seems to swim 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, Fred Wah “Breathe dust…” Breathe dust like you breathe wind so strong in your face little grains of dirt which pock around the cheeks peddling against a dust-storm… Margaret Atwood Death of a Young Son by Drowning He, who navigated with success the dangerous river of his own birth once more set forth Cecily Nicholson from “Road Shoulders” power lines held by birds of prey the hostile expanse above ditches teeming floral invasive wayside fleurs late summer the shoulder sang holds breeze by A. J. M. Smith The Lonely Land Cedar and jagged fir uplift sharp barbs against the gray Changming Yuan Chinese Chimes: Nine Detours of the Yellow River you are unaware of your obscure sources but you are explicitly sure of the vast sea as your final destination Adèle Barclay RAINBOW ROCK-CLIMBING CLUB I’m a gecko on a wall that simulates a cliff with rainbow grips I’ll touch any colour that’ll have me midway is high enough wary of emotional M. NourbeSe Philip Salmon Courage Here at Woodlands, Moriah, these thirty-five years later, still I could smell her fear. Armand Garnet Ruffo Poem For Duncan Campbell Scott Who is this black coat and tie? Christian severity etched in the lines he draws from his mouth. Clearly a noble man who believes in work and mission. See how he rises from the red velvet chair, Gwen Benaway Trillium the animal in me is constant. thirst starts, hunger answers. sleep is uncertain, restless limbs. in the night, I hear footsteps. 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 Pagination 1 2 3 4 5 6 Next › Next page Last » Last page Language English