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 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 Elise Partridge Chemo Side Effects: Memory Where is the word I want? Groping in the thicket, 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 Phil Hall A Thin Plea (Falteringly) Our national bird – for years – was – as A M Klein said – the rocking chair I don’t know what our national bird is now – but my totem bird is El Jones Glass Hands: A Eulogy on the Anniversary of the Pandemic Hands pressed to glass Elizabeth Bachinsky Wolf Lake It was down that road he brought me, still in the trunk of his car. I won’t say it felt right, but it did feel expected. The way you… 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 Douglas Walbourne-Gough Ella Josephine Campbell Slim, slight. Sinew and bird bones. Cords of her hands like spruce roots. Came from Ship Cove to Crow Gulch with little more than the child inside her, landed in a small shack flanked by 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 Molly CROSS-BLANCHARD Dear Dolphin The shaman at Broadway and Main with a plastic shaker and some sage says you’re my power animal. Says we both have big brains, like to chatter. I don’t know anything about dolphins, except Isabella Valancy Crawford The Dark Stag A startled stag, the blue-grey Night, Leaps down beyond black pines. Behind — a length of yellow light — Molly CROSS-BLANCHARD First Time Smudge It takes eight matches, a burnt thumb, and a quick Google search to light the sweetgrass braid Mom scored for me from an elder at work. Always use matches, she said. Spirit likes matches. Erin Mouré Homage to the Mineral of the Onion (I) In the onion, there’s something of fire. That fire known as Fog. The onion is the way 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… 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 Meghan Kemp-Gee A Newly Discovered Species of Lizard with Distinctive Triangular Scales I am Charles Darwin. I eat owlflesh at Cambridge University. I have discovered something, an entirely new species with tropical fever in its reptile fingers. I am busy with taxonomying its most peculiar and three-sided 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 Rita Wong fluorine arsenic in calculators, mercury in felt hats, mad as a poisoned hatter pyrophoric undercurrent in mundane Ben Ladouceur Tractatus The sun gave our shoulder blades ulu-shaped burns, and the sun gives nothing to our sort I sleep now, and furiously Clouds excreted shadows on the shoreline, and there were no clouds Marjorie Pickthall The Wife Living, I had no might To make you hear, Now, in the inmost night, Leah Horlick For You Shall Be Called to Account The ancestors of everyone I’ve let into my body are gathered in a small room with one window, no lights. Yes, the room is crowded. Yes, there are no chairs. Yes, they are talking. Why are we 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 Jane Munro Sonoma He totaled his blue truck — slowly spun out on an icy bridge, rammed it into a guard rail. Adam Dickinson Hail Hello from inside the albatross with a windproof lighter 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 Sue Goyette Eight The trick to building houses was making sure they didn’t taste good. The ocean’s culinary taste was growing more sophisticated and occasionally 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? Sarah Tolmie 31 We’re all aware that human hair is dead Yet we spend thousands taking care of it. It’s like an endless funeral. The moment your hair hits air, it’s toast. It only lives inside the follicle. 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. Wilfred Campbell How One Winter Came in the Lake Region For weeks and weeks the autumn world stood still, Clothed in the shadow of a smoky haze; The fields were dead, the wind had lost its will, 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 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 Bronwen Wallace Common Magic Your best friend falls in love and her brain turns to water. You can watch her lips move, 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, Suzanne Buffam Dream Jobs Random Link Clicker. Royal Bath Taker. Receiver of Foot Rubs and Praise. 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 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 Anne Carson From Red Doc GOODLOOKING BOY wasn’t he / yes/ blond / yes / I do vaguely / you never liked 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 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… Language English