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 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 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 Amber Dawn The Ringing Bell I used to liken a poem to praying. Is that right? Not the woo and gratitude praying served by queer witches. Childhood praying. As a girl I genuflected to the tabernacle P. K. Page The Blue Guitar They said, ‘You have a blue guitar, You do not play things as they are.’ The man replied, ‘Things as they are 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 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, Sharon Olds My Poem Without Me in It My poem without me in it—would it be like my room when I had returned to it after my mother was done with me. Under my bed, only the outer space balls, of dust, only Rita Wong fluorine arsenic in calculators, mercury in felt hats, mad as a poisoned hatter pyrophoric undercurrent in mundane Joshua Whitehead Full Metal Oji-Cree this is the transsensorium there are indo-robo-women fighting cowboys on the frontier & winning finally the premodern is a foundation for the postmodern wintermute, tessier-ashpool, armitage Noelle Kocot Paying Attention He is not doing well. She is not “Doing well.” They are not doing well. And so the new day blooms with its Frills held tight across the window. If I could know that which resembles Kyla Jamieson In Exile I Draw the Tower Card Spruce, inadequate, and alien I stood at the side of the road Hari Alluri area boys brash talk on sidewalk brethren to irreverence short teeth long stories ~ aspirations high rolling tape decks tweeters six by nine speakers deep Elise Partridge Chemo Side Effects: Memory Where is the word I want? Groping in the thicket, Faith Arkorful Family Affair they say we are a family that is good at death / i make a decision to hold a seminar on how to live / i schedule this party for my uncles on the first Adam Sol Opus 75, Sestina in B-flat for the Glockenspiel In the empty classroom, at sunrise, a girl sits on the floor, staring at a glockenspiel. She’s shredding the cuticles on her left hand 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 Jane Mead From World of Made and Unmade In my dream my mother comes with me. We are in the meadows we call The Flats, walking the dogs. Walk straight past the water trough, she says, do not engage the moss. 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 Billy-Ray Belcourt If Our Bodies Could Rust, We Would Be Falling Apart the law mandates that a hate crime only be classified as such if there is ample evidence to show that one’s actions were motivated by prejudice toward an individual’s nationality, ethnicity, sexuality, gender, etc. Suzanne Buffam The New Experience I was ready for a new experience. All the old ones had burned out. They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside Ian Keteku Moment One I remember my birth like it was tomorrow, the unholy sensation of abandon, accepted struggle my mother’s womb a burning revolution, 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. Susan Holbrook What Is Poetry (a twelve-tone poem) trite yap show rosy twit heap Lindsay Nixon niya Chimwemwe Undi A History of Houses Built Out of Spite Roy Miki Kome’s Story for auntie nagasaki it's the same story told again & again the modulations & the machinations the maudlin & the dream Weyman Chan monday thaw On TV it looked like a high-speed photo of a milk drop the dying leader of the Pana Wave laboratory cult smack in the centre. Acres of white cloth streamered his followers, who Tara Borin Nuisance Only the thickness of log and triple-paned glass between my children and the open maw of a bear. I slip warm chocolate chip cookies from the pan Ada Limón How to Triumph Like a Girl I like the lady horses best, how they make it all look easy, like running 40 miles per hour is as fun as taking a nap, or grass. I like their lady horse swagger, 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 Mathew Henderson Badlands Your father worked Drumheller while you ate and slept at home. He travelled the badlands, squatted below rocks, read books you never knew he read. He sat until his eyes strained to know Kazim Ali Ramadan You wanted to be so hungry, you would break into branches, and have to choose between the starving month’s nineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-third evenings. Spencer Reece At Thomas Merton’s Grave We can never be with loss too long. Behind the warped door that sticks, the wood thrush calls to the monks, Abdellatif Laâbi Two Hours on the Train During two hours on the train I rerun the film of my life Two minutes per year on average Half an hour for childhood Another half-hour for prison Love, books, wandering take up the rest 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 Adam Dickinson Hail Hello from inside the albatross with a windproof lighter Madhur Anand You Are Not Going to Come Trillium But I do come to Trillium. To the Cardiac Short Stay Unit where you’ve been sent for the second stent, where free sanitizer prevents the spread of panic. 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: 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 Benjamin Garcia Bliss Point or What Can Best Be Achieved by Cheese A.k.a. the other gold. Now that's the stuff, Language English