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 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 ask about her diabetes John McCrae In Flanders Fields In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky 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 Tyler B. Perry FLOOD The hallway is an empty riverbed, smooth and barren. At three o’clock classroom doors open like dams. Gullies of teens stream out, to become one flowing body. A torrent Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm sturgeon i twist and gasp open and close my mouth searching for air whenever a sturgeon is caught in the rainy river i know the feel of strange hands touching my body the struggle Katherena Vermette mixed tape side a: 1. 18 and Life her friend takes her to Suzanne Buffam Dream Jobs Random Link Clicker. Royal Bath Taker. Receiver of Foot Rubs and Praise. Dennis Lee 400: Coming Home You are still on the highway and the great light of noon comes over the asphalt, the gravelled shoulders. You are on the highway, there is a kind of 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 Robert W. Service The Cremation of Sam McGee There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales 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 Gwen Benaway Trillium the animal in me is constant. thirst starts, hunger answers. sleep is uncertain, restless limbs. in the night, I hear footsteps. 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 Lee Maracle War In my body flows the blood of Gallic Bastille stormers and the soft, gentle ways of Salish/Cree womanhood. 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 Kate Hall Insomnia If I were to sleep, it would be on an iron bed, bolted to the floor in a bomb-proof concrete room with twelve locks on the door. Bliss Carman Low Tide on Grand Pré The sun goes down, and over all These barren reaches by the tide Such unelusive glories fall, 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, Dionne Brand Verso 3.1 At first there's no lake in the city, at first there are only elevators, at first there are only constricting office desks; there are small apartments and hamburger joints and El Jones Glass Hands: A Eulogy on the Anniversary of the Pandemic Hands pressed to glass Rosemary Griebel Walking with Walt Whitman Through Calgary's Eastside on a Winter Day Blue-white afternoon. The Bow river churns and smokes as the city rumbles, economy chokes and bundled homeless build cardboard homes in the snow. Yes, Walt, this is the new Shane Book World Town Entirely windless, today’s sea; of these waters’ many names the best seemed “field-of-pearl-leaves,” for it smelled like the air in the house he built entirely of doors: pink school door, Gregory Scofield I’ll Teach You Cree with the tip of my spring tongue, ayîki frog your mouth will be the web catching apihkêsis words, spider Fiona Tinwei Lam Weed Killer Our mother gave us a sack of weed killer the size of a toddler, and told us to spread it on the front lawn. My sister and I lugged it there. A light cloud of white powder drifted up to our nostrils 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… 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 Marie Annharte Baker Saskatchewan Indians Were Dancing 60s pulled us from starvation into government jobs antiquated Indians in Saskatchewan danced for rain Manitoba Indian doings were hidden for a jealous Marjorie Pickthall The Wife Living, I had no might To make you hear, Now, in the inmost night, 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, Billy-Ray Belcourt Love is a Moontime Teaching love is a moontime teaching is your kookum’s crooked smile when you pick up the phone is another word for body body is another word for campfire smoke Russell Thornton Letters I threw away your letters. Years ago, just like that. The tight black swirls, circles and strokes filling fine sheets — I would not see them again. The last items I had left. 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: when will the sun run out of fuel? Larissa Lai big ghosts big ghosts contra band my diction war korea's north sees red as america flags china's chopped limb british crowns hong kong cut for duplicity more capitalist than capitalist Charles Sangster Sonnet VII from ‘Sonnets Written in the Orillia Woods’ Our life is like a forest, where the sun Glints down upon us through the throbbing leaves;… A. F. Moritz Thou Poem Thou poem of lost attention and half try, do you fear more the inner world or outer? I do not… 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, 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 David McGimpsey 71. Song for a Silent Treatment. I told her, in plain language, how I felt. And by that I mean I mumbled a poorly paraphrased and already… 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, Lorna Crozier Fear of Snakes The snake can separate itself from its shadow, move on ribbons of light, taste the air, the morning and the evening, Language English