Beautiful - Toronto District School Board

Copyright 2001 Toronto District School Board 

ISBN: 0-88881-301-5 

For inquiries about this publication, please write to 

Communications and Public Affairs, Toronto District 

School Board, 155 College Street, Toronto, Ontario 

M5T 1P6. 

Cover art by: 

Irina L 

Grade 8

We wish to thank Gerry Connelly, Executive 

Officer of Instruction, for her support of this 

important project. 

We also wish to thank the following people for their 

assistance: 

Neil Andersen 

Ann Amberg 

Julia Arnold 

Joan Barrett 

Ann Birch 

John Caldarone 

Donna Creighton 

Yves Desrochers 

Dianne Duffett 

Dianne Fenner 

Nancy Fernandes 

Jovette Gagnon 

Julie Glazier 

Lise Hawkins 

Danielle Honour 

Mima Hoyes 

Judith Hunter 

Marie Kozulak-Walker 

Paul Leclerc 

Gillda Leitenberg 

Joan Littleford 

Jennifer McIntyre 

Stefi Oriotis 

Lynne Pattenden 

Alison Pearce 

Mindy Pollishuke 

Candace Ramdial 

Carol Ricker-Wilson 

Michael Stubitsch 

Brenda Tvrdy 

Su Wahay 

Claudette White 

Suzanne Witkin

We wish to acknowledge all the schools that 

expressed an interest in this project by 

submitting poetry and illustrations: 

Adam Beck Jr. P.S. 

Agincourt C.I. 

Agnes Macphail P.S. 

Albion Heights J.M.S. 

Allenby Jr. P.S. 

ALPHA Alternative School 

Ancaster P.S. 

Arlington M.S. 

A.Y. Jackson S.S. 

Bala Avenue 

Community School 

Balmy Beach C.S. 

Bayview M.S. 

Beaumonde Heights J.M.S. 

Bennington Heights E.S. 

Beverley Heights M.S. 

Beverly Glen Jr. P.S. 

Bliss Carman Sr. P.S. 

Bloordale M.S. 

Bloorlea M.S. 

Blythwood Jr. P.S. 

Bowmore P.S. 

Brian P.S. 

Briar Hill Jr. P.S. 

Broadacres J.S. 

Burnamthorpe Adult 

Learning Centre 

Cameron P.S. 

Carleton Village P.S. 

Central Technical School 

Charles Gordon Sr. P.S. 

Chine Drive P.S. 

City School 

Claude Watson School 

for the Arts 

Clinton Street Jr. P.S. 

Cordella P.S. 

Cosburn M.S. 

C.R. Marchant M.S. 

Cresthaven P.S. 

Cummer Valley M.S. 

C.W. Jefferys C.I. 

Dallington P.S. 

Danforth C. & T.I. 

David Lewis P.S. 

Deer Park Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Delta Alternative School Sr. 

Denlow P.S. 

Don Mills M.S. 

Don Mills C.I.

Don Valley J.H.S 

Donview M.S. 

Dovercourt Jr. P.S. 

Dr. Marion Hilliard Sr. P.S. 

Dr. Norman Bethune C.I. 

Earl Grey Sr. School 

Earl Haig Jr. P.S. 

Earl Haig S.S. 

East York Alternative S.S. 

East York C.I. 

Eastdale C.I. 

Elkhorn P.S. 

Elmbank J.M.A. 

Elmlea J.S. 

Emery C.I. 

Essex P.S. 

Etobicoke C.I. 

Etobicoke School of the Arts 

Fairbank Memorial 

Community School 

Fairbank M.S. 

Fairmount Jr. P.S. 

Faywood Arts-Based 

Curriculum School 

Fenside P.S. 

Fern Avenue P.S. 

F.H. Miller Jr. P.S. 

Finch P.S. 

Flemington P.S. 

Forest Hill C.I. 

Forest Hill Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Garden Avenue Jr. P.S. 

George Anderson P.S. 

George Harvey C.I. 

George Webster E.S. 

Gledhill Jr. P.S. 

Glenview Sr. P.S. 

Gordon A. Brown M.S. 

Gracedale P.S. 

Greenholme J.M.S. 

Grenoble P.S. 

Gulfstream P.S. 

H.A. Halbert Jr. P.S. 

Harbord C.I. 

Harrison P.S. 

High Park Alternative P.S. 

Highfield J.S. 

Highland J.H.S. 

Highview P.S. 

Hillcrest Jr. P.S. 

Hilltop M.S. 

Hollycrest M.S. 

Howard Jr. P.S. 

Humber Summit M.S. 

Humbercrest P.S. 

Humberside C.I. 

Hunter’s Glen Jr. P.S. 

Huron Street Jr. P.S. 

Indian Road Crescent Jr. P.S. 

Ionview P.S.

Iroquois Jr. P.S. 

Islington J.M.S. 

Jesse Ketchum P.S. 

J.G. Workman P.S. 

John D. Parker J.S. 

John English J.M.S. 

John Fisher Jr. P.S. 

John G. Althouse M.S. 

Joyce P.S. 

Keele Street Jr. P.S. 

Kent Sr. P.S. 

Kew Beach Jr. P.S. 

Kimberley Jr. P.S. 

Lakeshore C.I. 

Lamberton P.S. 

Lambton-Kingsway J.M.S. 

Lanor J.M.S. 

Lawrence Park C.I. 

Leaside H.S. 

Lescon P.S. 

Leslieville Jr. P.S. 

Lillian P.S. 

Lord Dufferin Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Lord Lansdowne P.S. 

Lucy Maud Montgomery 

Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Martingrove C.I. 

Military Trail P.S. 

Mill Valley J.S. 

Millwood J.S. 

Milne Valley M.S. 

Morse Street P.S. 

Nelson A. Boylen C.I. 

Newtonbrook S.S. 

Niagara Street P.S. 

Norseman J.M.S. 

North Agincourt Jr. P.S. 

North Albion C.I. 

North Bridlewood Jr. P.S. 

North Kipling J.M.S. 

North Toronto C.I. 

Northern S.S. 

Northlea E. & M.S. 

Oakridge Jr. P.S. 

Ogden Jr. P.S. 

Owen P.S. 

Palmerston Avenue P.S. 

Pape Avenue P.S. 

Parkdale C.I. 

Parkdale Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Parkfield J.S. 

Pauline P.S. 

Pineway P.S. 

Pleasant P.S. 

Poplar Road Jr. P.S. 

Port Royal P.S. 

Pringdale Gardens Jr. P.S. 

Queen Alexandra Sr. P.S. 

Quest Alternative School Sr. 

Rawlinson Community School

Regal Road P.S. 

R.H. King Academy 

R.H. McGregor School 

Richview C.I. 

Riverdale C.I. 

Rose Avenue P.S. 

Rosedale Heights S.S. 

Roselands Jr. P.S. 

Rosethorn J.S. 

Runnymede Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Samuel Hearne Sr. P.S. 

School of Experiential 

Education (SEE) 

Secord School 

Sheppard P.S. 

Shirley Street School 

Shoreham P.S. 

Silverthorn C.I. 

Silverthorn Jr. P.S. 

Sir Adam Beck J.S. 

Sir Alexander MacKenzie 

Sr. P.S. 

Sir Ernest MacMillan Sr. P.S. 

Sir Robert L. Borden B.T.I. 

Smithfield M.S. 

Spectrum Alternative 

School Sr. 

Sprucecourt P.S. 

St. George’s J.S. 

Stanley P.S. 

Subway Academy I 

Swansea P.S. 

The Waterfront School 

Thistletown C.I. 

Ursula Franklin Academy 

Valley Park M.S. 

Vaughan Road Academy 

Wedgewood Jr. School 

West Glen J.S. 

West Humber J.M.S. 

West Toronto C.I. 

Weston C.I. 

Westview Centennial S.S. 

Wexford C.I. 

Whitney P.S. 

Williamson Road P.S. 

Willow Park Jr. P.S. 

Winchester Jr. & Sr. P.S. 

Winona Drive Sr. P.S. 

Winston Churchill C.I. 

Withrow Avenue P.S. 

Woburn C.I. 

York A.D.S. 

York Memorial C.I.

Marguerite Jackson, 

Director of Education 

Irene Atkinson, 

Chair of the Board 

A Message from the Director and Chair 

Welcome to the second edition of Urban Voices/L’écho de la 

ville. The poetry and illustrations in this book represent the 

work of students in the Toronto District School Board from 

Kindergarten to OAC. This work reflects the skills, 

knowledge, and appreciation for poetry and art that our 

young people have learned in their classrooms. 

The poet William Wordsworth said, “Poetry is the breath and 

finer spirit of all knowledge.” Our young people in the Toronto 

District School Board have infused breath and spirit into 

their work and brought their knowledge to life. We are 

confident that you will be touched by the powerful images 

that the students present in these poems and illustrations.

A Message from Gillda Leitenberg, 

District-wide Co-ordinator of English/Literacy 

Urban Voices/L’écho de la ville 2001 is the second districtwide 

publication of poetry and illustrations by the elementary 

and secondary students of the Toronto District School Board. 

Within the pages of this anthology, our students have given 

voice, in English and in French, to their memories, questions, 

passions, and dreams. Sometimes, their voices are filled 

with wonder, sometimes with the sorrow of loss, sometimes 

with delight, and sometimes with the pain of self-knowledge. 

Always our students have drawn on their inner selves and 

the power of language or visual image to shape their 

experiences and communicate their truth. 

Urban Voices/L’écho de la ville 2001 is also a celebration of 

Toronto District School Board classrooms. We are indebted 

to the hundreds of teachers who, despite incredible pressures 

and overloaded schedules, submitted over 2000 poems and 

illustrations. Your rich programs and broad definitions of 

literacy continue to provide safe spaces for the imaginative 

spirit and the artistic craft to flourish. 

And finally, a special thank you to Brenda Tvrdy and Carol 

Ricker-Wilson. This anthology would not have been possible 

without their dedicated leadership.

Subway 

Andrew G 

OAC 

silver snakes streaming below stifled streets 

worms of man rumble. 

transport tube of thousands tethered 

rat express open. 

turnstiles clogged 

papers discarded 

tickets dispensed 

shuttles boarded 

subterranean scenery smoky and still 

concrete catacombs cloaked in graffiti 

platforms tip like scales of imbalance 

weary escalators escort the restless 

recycled respiration 

blur of motion 

daylight abandoned 

sea of commotion 

flash of red light 

bleep and chime 

twisting tin tunnel 

portal of time 

enter the ant farm of funnels and passages 

directionless 

stops uncertain 

transfers forgotten 

wandering the labyrinth of life 

pick the west train 

the east train 

any train 

see where it takes you 

Urban Voices • L’écho de la ville 2001 1

Untitled 

Words find a way to the page, 

If you listen with your heart, 

A feeling inside of you 

Whispers, 

To write a poem. 

2 Urban Voices • L’écho de la ville 2001 

Mariko S 

Grade 8

SEPTEMBER 

I met her when my desperation 

was at its peak 

when the cold days and long nights 

were ending 

Amidst her blooming and rebirth 

I fell for her 

How could she be September? 

Mark S 

OAC 

Showing no signs of a colourful past 

just her sunny green present 

I believe my eyes 

Through sun and moon her beauty endures 

intensifies 

brimming with heat 

blazing with sunshine 

I pray for permanence 

But now I can see her 

for the one she really is 

Deceiver, September 

Shedding the faces of months past, overnight 

Departing in an eruption of colour 

Colour falling to the hardening ground 

She left me when my adulation 

was at its peak 

When the long days and warm nights 

were ending 


Untitled 


Rehana A 

Grade 7 

The job of a chocolate is to leave 

Your mouth watering with a 

Sparkling sensation after the first munch. 

It is also eaten to indulge 

Pleasure in a time of despair. 

The job of a chocolate is to be 

Gift wrapped and given to loved ones 

On special occasions; 

To be greedily eaten by children during recess. 

The job of a chocolate is to tell a 

Different story in every mouth.

How to Rake Leaves 

Raking leaves is like combing 

through a mop of straggly, brownish-red hair. 

It is exhausting and difficult, 

But it can be amusing at the same time. 

Stephanie K 

Grade 5 

So go find the rake in the messy storage space. 

Go outside to the red, orange and yellow-covered lawn. 

Divide the lawn into four squares. 

Start in the corners and pull with all your might. 

Soon you will find that your arm muscles stiffen. 

So take a short break and enjoy your autumn surroundings. 

Relish the cool autumn breeze tingling against your face. 

Rake back and forth till the mound starts growing. 

A pile is complete when the grass can be seen. 

Hard physical work creates a sense of accomplishment. 

Start another corner. A pile will be seen. 

Only two more corners to go! 

Pull as hard as you can against the wind. 

The last corner is almost complete. 

Now walk around the piles, 

joining them like a train. 

Pile them high. 

Measure against your head. 

Now remember how to dive when swimming. 

Then do just that right into the leaves. 

Lie. Stretch. Sigh. 


don’t fight heaven 

seraphim have deemed 

that you will always 

breathe my air 

maybe my ancestral 

mother shared a latte 

with your forefather 

in a place we’ve 

only heard of 

jakarta indonesia 

maybe there’s a crumb 

of you in 

my summer sandal 

when i watched the 

cool orange-purples 

from the lazy beach 

age seven 

doing headstands 

with my father 

maybe you were in my sand 

Rhia A 

OAC 

in any case, the seraphim 

set off to work on us 

they must have smiled 

toothy, perfect beams of mischief 

6 Urban Voices • L’écho de la ville 2001


lightning comes from 

disgruntled angels 

bearing noisy javelins 

it’s all about the 

powers and principalities 

the power of our acquaintance 

versus 

the events and inhabitants 

of terra firma 

i have a sneaky suspicion 

that i will be seeing you 

the rest of my natural life 

plus tax 


heaven fights back 


Cats 

“You can join us anytime!” 

Their feline purring 

Scratches my ears, 

Discouraging disbelief. 

I respond but my words 

Boomerang furtively, 

As the cats listen with stunning indifference. 

Even though I am curled up beside them, 

Their exclusive secrets 

Shove me brutally aside, 

And their ever-diminishing meows 

Echo mockingly in my mind: 

“You can join us anytime…” 

“Like, whatever, cool cat.” 


Signe S 

Grade 9

Flora L 

OAC 


Niousha G 

12 e année—Français cadre 

Mon petit 

Quand tu es né, 

J’ai ressenti une vague d’amour. 

Je t’ai rencontré pour la première fois, 

Je savais que je t’aimerais pour le reste de ma vie. 

Tes doigts, ton nez, 

Tes jambes et tes bras, 

Ta tête et tes pieds; 

Tout à propos de toi était très petit mais parfait! 

Ton premier halètement, 

La première fois que tu as crié, 

Ton premier mot 

Étaient de la musique à mes oreilles. 

Tu étais un miracle de Dieu. 

Un cadeau juste pour moi. 

Quelque chose d’imprévu 

Mais qui m’a apporté beaucoup de joie. 


CROP OVER 

Jason R 

Grade 12. 

Here where the Caribbean sea and Atlantic Ocean kiss and cuddle 

The Island inhabitants will also do today 

Jumping and dancing in the streets 

To the sweet calypso beat 

Uh! Uh! Boom! Boom! Uh! Uh! Boom! Boom! 

Faces freckled with confetti 

Costumes yellow, green, red, orange make the rainbows envy 

Waists move in unison with their bright flapping arms 

Mouths with whistles burst joy their masters bring 

Weeeeek! Weeeeek! Weeeeek! 

The river of people flows to the west of the isle 

Where the Caribbean Sea resides 

The cool blue water 

The white soft sand 

Here is where the parade stops and the party begins 

Half-emptied rum bottles release their sweet, razor-sharp elixir 

Into the mouths of the already staggering old men 

Children munch on the sweet cotton candied clouds 

Many nostrils stand at attention to the tantalizing smells 

Women making the fish cakes and bakes know their reactions well 

Pow! Pow! Crack! 

The bright yellow, blue, green fire lights the dark clear sky 

The wonderful day has fallen with pride 

Midnight greets the drunk and tired 

Until next year, the Crop Over festival has sailed away 



Sonal L 

OAC

My Eyes 

Zico L 

Grade 5. 

My eyes are as brown as tree bark in the summer. 

My skin is as brown as a bear’s fur. 

My hair is as black as the midnight sky 

My legs are as strong as a steam engine rolling down the track. 

My smile is as big as the widest ocean. 


Moon 

Jason M 

Grade 4 

The moon is shining bright, 

reflecting in the night. 

He summons his mighty knights—the stars, 

But in the day he is vanquished by the sun. 


Untitled 

When my tooth was wiggling 

it fell out! 

Wiggle, Wiggle 

Blood everywhere! 

T’yawne A 

Grade 1 


for instance … 

Taylor B 

Grade 8 

i can’t deny that i allowed myself a few smiles 

at the rain outside of the bus. 

but more importantly 

a few smiles at the people on the inside of the bus. 

shifting uncomfortably 

(seated or not). 

pressing my nose against my shoulder 

i manage to forget about the damp 

and drive out the cold. 

i glance up. 

all these women with their make-up running 

dresses soaked 

their high heels look especially uncomfortable right 

now. 

and me in my sneakers 

a grin slowly spreading across my face. 

i know exactly what they have been dreading. 

i shift my weight a few times 

allowing the casual 

squeek squeek squeek 

of my shoes to be heard. 

again, and again, and 

again. 


AFGHANISTAN 

I was young when 

There was war in Afghanistan. 

I saw people running, rockets 

falling and a red blast. 

I felt like a flower dying. 

People were screaming like 

birds dying in a dark summer. 

I had to fly out of there to 

a peaceful place. 

Now I am where 

There is no war. 

People run to work 

like snow falls from sky. 

I feel like a flower growing 

from its seed. 

People are talking like birds 

singing in a bright summer. 

I am in a peaceful place where 

I can do anything. 

Omar S 

Grade 11 


Tiger 

Tiger 

running, roaring 

orange, black stripes 

purring, hunting 

big cat 


Elijah B 

Grade 1

COLOURS 

I love colours. 

They make me happy when I’m mad 

and when I’m sad. 

I see green grass in spring. 

I see red roses in summer. 

I see orange maple leaves in autumn. 

I see white snow in winter. 

Colours are nature and my love. 

Chester L 

SK 


Les pommes 

Les pommes sont rouges, 

Vertes ou jaunes. 

Je croque une pomme, 

Miam-miam !!! 

Jaclyn E 

1 ère année—Immersion 

Les pommes sont bonnes 

Pour toi. 

Les pommes sont bonnes 

Pour toi et moi. 

Excu-u-use-moi ! 

Dans un verger… 

Il y a des pommes, des pommes ! 

J’achète une pomme, 

Je croque la pomme. 

Miam-miam 

Comme elle est bonne! 


Hew Yew Y 

Grade 5. 


Colours 

I feel like a mighty red 

flaming rose. 

A blue ocean about 

to be a tidal wave. 

As black as the 

darkness of the under world. 

As white as a ghost 

ready to take your soul. 

As gold as the mines 

of Mexico. 

As silver as the chains 

that hold you still. 

I am a sparkling 

spear. 


Cameron M 

Grade 4

Andrew C 

OAC 

painting: Still Life, June 6/48, Ben Nicholson, 1948 

frozen 

in time the image will stay. 

its sketch-like visuals 

resemble that of a lithograph. 

so simple 

yet powerful and complex. 

possibly something remains hidden beneath each layer of paint. 

I thought I saw a face 

incognito 

behind the scenes of the coloured masterpiece 

but was surprised to see 

it was a basic brush stroke 

at least it looked like it to me. 

diagonally placed 

each line adding grace to the image. 

the two dimensions 

almost become three 

as the depth of perception becomes evident. 

I want to leap inside 

and climb amongst the distorted shaped goblet 

and the slanted squares of beige and grey. 

this could be my life 

perfectly still. 

perfectly happy. 


nothing out of something 

we drove in silence 

me to my window, 

him to his. 

we drove past familiar places, 

everything reminding me of the 

movie that we had just seen. 

the pictures from the film 

still danced in front of my eyes, 

along with the pale greens and yellows 

of lights shining through 

a covering 

of rain. 

I let my mind drift to my 

chipped nail polish. 

I wiggled my toes in my shoes 

and opened my mouth to comment 

on how fast we were going. 

but we stopped— 

red light. 

through the window I saw 

the colours from a t.v. 

flicker 

and ricochet off the bumper 

of some 

passing car. 

and for a moment 

I felt that every light 

reflected on the slick of the 

rain on the street 

welcomed me. 

then we started driving again. 


Taylor B 

Grade 8

Similarities 

I skin the plum 

Crimson stains on the prize within 

Soft and tender 

Slightly moist 

Tantalizing 

I feel as though I’m eating … 

Human flesh 

Kyle W 

Grade 10 


When I Said … 

When I said, 

“I hate your hair…” 

I really liked it… 

When I said, 

“I hate your clothes…” 

I really wanted them… 

When I said… 

“I don’t care if you leave…” 

I really missed you… 

When I said 

“I’ll always love you…” 

I really meant it… 


Amber M 

Grade 7

Eucalyptus 

Funeral hall, November rain. 

On display, a dozen bouquets 

and a yellowed-old photo 

1947…two proud young men. 

Eyes as yet undimmed 

by the impending hell they are to face 

in the shiny fighter plane 

that they stand uniformed by. 

But I prefer to remember 

The man, 

not perfect in his uniform 

but stooped, white-haired, 

Who “ruined” countless family photos 

(or so Grandma’d say) 

sticking out his false teeth 

just as the camera flashed. 

The man who played 

eight hundred and sixty seven 

rounds of golf 

since his first day of retirement 

and recorded 

every single score 

on twenty years of milk calendars. 

(of course they were only 

discovered after, 

while cleaning out his desk). 

The man to whom my name was 

“Bologna sandwich,” 

or in the final days of Parkinson’s wrath, 

“Eucalyptus” 

(don’t ask me why). 

Chrissy M 

OAC 


GYMNASTICS 

Bar, floor, beam and vault 

Crowd roars 

Silence comes over the crowd 

I go on. 


Robin P 

Grade 3

Sweep, 

sweep, 

sweep, 

The Hockey Arena 

Kuruparan S 

Grade 4 

The janitor cleans the arena after the fans have left. 

Splash, 

splash, 

splash, 

The man floods the arena with more water to make ice. 

Tap, 

tap, 

tap, 

Footsteps of the fans coming in to see the hockey game. 

Swish, swish, swish, the game has begun! 


Homework 

Homework is boring, 

it’s very tiring. 

Textbooks thick as 

giant hamburgers, 

notebooks wide 

as the ocean. 

My pencil seems so 

big when I start. 

Erasers seem so 

heavy I cannot lift. 

Reading, writing, 

spelling, math. 

I do not know 

when it’ll end. 

Homework 

horrible as nightmares, 

Ahhhhhh---------!!!! 


Elaine H 

Grade 5

the legacy of english teachers. 

and carpe diem, 

she says. 

it’s been so long since 

my dead poets’ society 

i fear i can no longer 

yawp, especially not 

barbarically. 

darn. 

Emma L 

Grade 10 


Rien sur le papier 

Je regarde le papier. 

Rien dessus. 

Je veux jouer. 

Je ne peux pas. 

Si je dis: “S’il vous plaît…” 

Ça ne marchera pas. 

Un papier avec rien dessus 

N’est pas beaucoup. 

Camille J 

4 e année—Immersion 

Je ne connais pas beaucoup de français. 

Je ne sais pas quoi écrire ! 

Qu’est-ce que je fais ? 

Je n’ai rien à écrire. 

Une page vide. 

Pas très intéressant ! 

Tout le monde a une page pleine. 

… 

Je reste ici avec rien sur le papier. 


ed ink 

Tina V 

OAC 

i spilled some words on the 

floor in front of you 

i wish they’d coagulate 

quickly so you wouldn’t read 

when you help me clean up 

i’m ready but i’m scared 

so, maybe really, i still am . . . unprepared. 


Frozen Noses 

Winter is frozen noses. 

Frozen noses are very cold. 

Yes they are. 

I know because my nose froze. 


Desiree H 

SK

Haiku: Snow Day 

Snowflakes fall softly 

Echoing Hallelujahs 

That the wind had sung 

Wendy H 

Grade 7 


Parts of Me 

James D 

Grade 1 

My hair is like a hose tangled up. 

My eyes are like glowing stars. 

My nose is like a little mountain. 

My tummy is like a big junkyard. 

My arms are like two sticks blowing. 

My fingers are like five pencils writing. 


Music 

Matthew M 

Grade 7 

Rap is like improv, you just say what comes to mind. 

Jazz is like Prozac, it’s always an up beat. 

Rock is like an electric shock, it’s always loud and stunning. 

Country is like a relaxing movie, it’s calm. 

Swing is like a swing set, you jolt back and forth. 

Classic is like a bowl of tomato soup, it goes down smooth. 


A Poem of Sounds 

Music 

Accordions murmur, 

Baritones squawk. 

Clarinets breathe, 

double basses hum. 

English horns mumble, 

Flutes whistle. 

Guitars strum swiftly, 

Harps slither glistening. 

Idiophones vibrate 

Jingling Johnnies jingle. 

Kazoos blow, 

Lyres pluck. 

Monochords shriek, 

Nachthorns pipe. 

Oboes sing, 

Pianos play. 


Zara C 

Grade 6

Qins pizzicato, 

Recorders toot. 

Saxophones rap, 

Triangles ting. 

Ukuleles rumble, 

Violins screech. 

Woodblocks click, 

Xylophones ping. 

Yinglis scream, 

Zithers tremble. 

The instruments are ready, 

Ready to play! 


A Plea from the Pound 

Poornima N 

Grade 7 

Here I am in a cage, crouched, alone and scared, 

Wondering, from the death row, if I’ll be spared, 

Sadly, we are all rejects abandoned for some reason, 

We were too much trouble and failed to please him. 

Did we eat too much or perhaps grow too big? 

He would get mighty furious when I would dig 

His pretty garden though only full of pine cones, 

So I could relish those enormous hidden bones. 

So now I stare eagerly out of this desolate place, 

Trying desperately not to hide my pitiful face, 

Hoping and praying somehow I will soon hear, 

Little friendly footsteps drawing ever so near. 

I’ll do all your bidding, protect you with my life, 

You’ll know no worry as I huddle by your side, 

When old and sick, lay me down for that endless rest, 

I’ll know with the last breath, in your hands, my life was best. 

Oh! God! some one has heard my silent prayer, 

It’s indeed that little, cute, cuddly girl, so dear, 

I feel the sun shining on me, oh finally, I’m free, 

The plea from the pound has worked well for me!!! 

Many more innocent sad souls in here. Come see? 


Snow 

One tearful snowflake 

Floats glumly to my nose tip 

Crying as it melts. 

Bonny W 

Grade 8 


Snow Beast 

Tyler H 

Grade 3 

When the Snow Beast flips a coin, 

there is a twister. 

When the Snow Beast jumps, 

there is an earthquake. 

When the Snow Beast cries, 

there is a storm. 

When the Snow Beast opens the ice box, 

it is all white. 


The Thing 

Meredith B 

Grade 2 

What is this Thing? 

Could it be an icy 

Cobweb? Is it a screaming 

Ghosts’ home? Could it 

Be a nasty trap? 

What is this thing? Is it 

Wispy wind that froze? 

Could it be a tunnel? 

Is it all that’s left 

Of a beautiful sunny 

Winter? What is this thing? 

Could it be an icy 

Home of a big white 

Polar bear? 

Is it a dream catcher, with all those 

Horrible dreams caught in it? 

Could it be an ice catcher’s 

Dream? This thing is just 

An image. An image of ice. 


Snow 

Snow is like little 

stars falling 

to the ground. 

Snow is puffy clouds 

sitting on 

the ground. 

Snow is like bubblebath 

floating in 

the bathtub. 

When I make a 

snowman it’s 

coming to 

life. 

When I go to 

play in 

the snow I 

feel like I’m sleeping 

in my 

bed. 

My comforter feels like 

snow. 


Vinusha G 

Grade 2

Notre planète… 

Leva R 


Notre planète a trop de pauvres, 

Notre planète a trop d’argent. 

Notre planète est affamée, 

Notre planète est rassasiée. 

Notre planète a trop de guerres. 

Notre planète sait faire la paix. 


How Dare You 

How dare you 

Take away the life 

That shone in their eyes. 

How dare you 

Hurt someone 

Just because you 

Were hurting more. 

How dare you 

Cause families pain 

By what you have 

Done. 

How dare you 

Take away their 

Lives and dreams 

By a pull of a trigger. 

How dare you 

Do this to them 

When they did nothing 

To you. 


Caitlyn S 

Grade 8

How dare you 

Make them bleed 

Inside and out. 

How dare you 

Scare kids by your act. 

How dare you 

Cause so much pain 

In a matter of minutes 

How dare you. 

This poem is dedicated to those who went through 

the horror and pain from Columbine. It may be old news 

but in their minds it will never be old, but an ongoing nightmare. 


Jealousy 

Jealousy is purple 

like a never-ending circle. 

It drips down my throat 

like a poison liquid. 

It makes me feel revengeful 

like a fire-breathing dragon. 

Kirsten T 

Grade 6 

It makes me want to open that forbidden gate. 


Through the Window 

Through the window 

I smell bloodshed 

I hear the sound of guns shooting 

Toward innocent families 

I can see it all 


I see a dark place 

Where a little girl 

sobs sad droplets 

By her side lies a motionless body 



I can see soldiers marching 

Protecting us from harm 

Bringing peace 

Providing shelter 


Through the window. 

Marie N 

Grade 5 


Borrow 

You ask to borrow 

a pencil. 

I say 

I don’t have one 

to give 

I lie. 

There’s one that’s never 

been used. 

Waiting. 

I fear you’ll sharpen 

it down to 

a stub 

and chew the end. 

So I won’t let you 

just toss it aside. 

I wouldn’t get it back 

when you’re done 

and I don’t have 

Another. 

But you sit there 

with empty hands 

so I change 

My mind. 


Taryn O 

Grade 10

Gift 

Lara F 

Grade 10 

I’m sure you intended it 

To be a wonderful gift. 

So well wrapped and 

Oh, so well meant. 

But the truth is, 

I simply cannot accept it. 

I know that I cannot return it, keep, nor claim it, 

It needs someone who is 

More equipped to handle it. 

I never asked you for anything, 

Certainly nothing this precious. 

You should’ve saved it for someone else, 

I only hope it can be salvaged. 

I’m sorry, 

But this should have been saved for someone else, 

I simply can’t handle your heart. 


A 

leaf 

that 

is 

does 

not 

not 

a 

A Leaf 

live 

leaf 

but 


Jeffrey R 

Grade 5 

another lost chance.

Useless Things* 

A light without a switch 

A cut without a stitch 

A marker without a lid 

An auction without a bid 

A person without a spine 

Cheese without some wine 

A word without the letters 

A casino without the betters 

A room without the floor 

A pear without the core 

A book without a page 

A theatre without a stage 

A boat without the bow 

A calf without the cow 

A clock without the hands 

A marriage without the bands. 

*Title and concept attributed to 

Richard Edwards, “Unseen Things,” 

in Paul B. Janeczko, Favorite Poetry 

Lessons, 1998, p. 42. 

Evan T 

Grade 5 



Sidonie W 

Grade 12

Food 

Rice is good for people. 

Celery is good to eat. 

I like cheese, 

I like buns, 

But candy rots your teeth. 

Nirojan K 

Grade 1 


Winter Is Here! 

Pretty blue jays fly. 

White bears sleep. 

Crystal icicles break. 


Jessica T 

Grade 2

Sledding 

James F 

Grade 3 

When I am going down the hill on my sled, 

I feel the wind blowing snow in my face. 

My heart is pounding, 

As I speed down the hill. 

I spin on the ice, 

I leap over the bumps. 

I start to slow down. 

I reach the bottom, 

And climb up again. 


Snowflakes 

Jessica M 

Grade 1 

Snowflakes 

drifting down 

falling on your tongue. 

They tickle! 

They are like little snow angels upon a holiday. 


Winter 

Damane Y 

Grade 4 

As I throw snowballs at my friends, 

I can feel the hard cold snow in my hands 

As I run, 

I slip and slide on the thick, 

smooth and hard ice beneath my feet 

As I play, the moon shines upon the 

snow that starts to dazzle me. 

Then I become blind. 

Opening my eyes again, 

I see children having fun, 

and I shall be a part of that fun. 



Kiruthinga S

My Winter Poem 

W inter white snow 

I can build an igloo 

N ew people come to school 

T oboggans are faster than cardboard 

E veryone makes snow angels 

Joshua M 

Grade 2 

R unning on snow and ice makes you slip 


Evening in East York 

We stay coiled 

curled about each other 

our voices 

laughter rings 

rippling dewy stillness 

of the room you share with your sister. 

Jelena P 

OAC 

Somewhere above 

a breeze floats in 

dotted with distant cries of cooped-up dogs, 

tiny car crashes along the Danforth 

stains of scent, green grass on curtains parted 

white dandelion parachutes 

in from the fading swelter 

onto our pillow. 

The moon 

thick with summer 

lodged clumsily on the horizon 

cosmically awkward, clasps 

twilight and town. 


Poetry hides in… 

Poetry hides in your heart 

Poetry hides in a tree swishing 

Poetry hides in a fire burning 

Jasmine N 

Grade 2 

Poetry hides in your pencil, waiting to be written 


When You Promised Me… 

When you promised me we would 

always be one happy family, 

I believed in your words 

and trusted you. 

When you let me sit on your lap 

and told me stories, 

I felt safe and comfortable. 

But when you never listened 

to my secrets and thoughts, 

I felt invisible and unimportant. 

When you brought me ice cream 

cones in the summer, 

I felt thankful and joyous 

But when you never understood 

or considered my opinion, 

I felt ignored and discouraged. 

When you tucked me into bed 

every night, 

I felt that you would always love me. 

But when you nodded off to sleep 

when I asked you to play, 

I felt lonely and annoyed. 


Anna M 

Grade 8

When our family went on trips 

and enjoyed good times, 

I felt like a bright lucky star. 

But now our family photos 

are incomplete, 

I feel the lack of your love. 

The worst was when you left our family. 

I felt betrayed. 

You broke your promise 

into a million pieces. 


Apprendre 

Nous apprenons à rire. 

Nous apprenons à pleurer. 

Stephanie W 


Nous apprenons à aimer. 

Nous apprenons à détester. 

Nous apprenons à offrir. 

Nous apprenons à recevoir. 

Nous apprenons à gagner. 

Nous apprenons à perdre. 

Et pourtant 

nous devons encore 

apprendre 

à vivre. 


Sisters 

The crimpling of the leaves and 

gentle breeze 

remind me of the years with my 

sister’s dreams. 

Her walking around in the fall 

the sweetest girl who always 

kept me as a doll. 

All I have now is the empty feeling 

bringing memories of the nights we 

kept awake talking and laughing. 

Her soft voice saying so much 

in a silent whisper. 

I remember the silence that 

fell with her crying. 

Anika P 

Grade 4 


Countries 

Countries are big 

Countries are small, 

Some countries have cities, 

and some have malls. 

Supreet D 

Grade 2 

Some countries have oceans, 

and some have seas. 

Some countries have mountains, 

and one has ME! 


Acrostic Poem 

C itizenship 

A house for everyone 

N ative people 

A maple leaf 

D elightful country 

A great education 

Sinthuka V 

Grade 3 


Breaking Through the Petting Zoo 

Age four 

The metal bird takes off 

on a one-way trip. 

Suitcases, baggage, 

and me in its maw 

“What is your name?” 

My frantic heart 

reverberates in my ear, 

urging me 

to run, 

to hide. 

The cage closes, 

too late. 

The sticks surround, 

trapped… 

Age eight 

“Your English is funny. 

Where are you from?” 

Comic books and fairy tales, 

Sunday school wafers, 

and Chinese summer classes. 

Grade 3 Cantonese for 3 years. 

“What’s with the accent? 

You were born here, eh?” 

Two worlds melded into one. 

The leashes of expectations 

play tug-a-war with my sanity. 


Lily H 

Grade 12

Age twelve 

Valedictorian, and the French award. 

My dad beams. 

Relatives come from afar 

Offering frankincense and mirth in 

my lost mother tongue. 

I only smile and nod, swaddled in 

my broken Cantonese diction, 

silently regretting 

the price I paid. 

Age sixteen 

Enslaved I am free 

The bondage of 

their clothes; 

their music; 

their language; 

their holidays; 

their ideals. 

Like a box 

of broken contents, 

I am whole. 


A Snowflake Settles 

Bretton C 

Grade 3 

A snowflake settles 

Upon the cat’s nose 

And disappears 

The nose twitches slightly 

Silently he jumps off the fence and continues 

his journey 

Leaving tiny paw prints 

behind him 

In the soft white snow 

A snowflake settles 


Winter Evergreens 

A sharp, still evergreen 

Standing like a statue 

In the gigantic forest, 

In the winter 

Because it wants to be 

A part of nature. 

Harkirat G 

Grade 2 


Winter’s Train 

Today I wake to winter’s call, 

Outside I know that snowflakes fall. 

The cold sits quietly as it waits for me, 

From the warmth I soon must flee. 

Cherie L 

Grade 8 

The time has come for us to part, 

I leave behind your broken heart. 

For the winter train leaves summer behind, 

A new path is what my journey will find. 

As I try to forget painful memories, 

I fall into a haze of sweet reveries. 

The winter train will calm my thoughts, 

And free me from all that I’ve fought. 

I rove the station awaiting my train, 

As I bide my time I stand on a white lane. 

What once was a path bursting with life, 

Will become the burial ground of all my strife. 

In the distance I hear its whistle, 

Through my ears it rings like a missile. 

Its thunderous roar shakes my whole frame, 

A race with the wind; that is its game. 

Slowly, I set foot on the winter’s train, 

The warmth melts the cold like sweet rain. 

I pick a seat with an open view, 

Familiar scenes fade to those anew. 

The rhythm of the train is of a steady beat, 

Reality and sleep are destined to meet. 

I fall into a dream with a content sort of smile, 

For the summer will come in just a little while. 


Shallow Popularity 

If everyone makes the wrong choice, 

Is it right? 

If all your friends speak as one voice, 

Should you state your opinion? 

If “follow the leader” is the beginning of popularity, 

Do you really want to be popular? 

If a friend goes against her word to look cool, 

Is cool all it’s cracked up to be? 

Emily B 

Grade 7 

If you stand up for what’s right and are teased for being foolish, 

Is it you that’s being the fool? 

When the world turns its back on you, 

And you’re the only person doing the right thing, 

Remember that it’s still right; 

And that in the end, 

If you are happy with who you’ve become, 

No one can bring you D O 

W 

N. 


Mala R 

Grade 7 

THE FORGOTTEN MASK: INVISIBLE 

(A poem for two voices) 

I hang on the wall. 

The same 

expression 

all the time. 

I always see everyone else, 

but they never look at me. 

I guess 

I am not something 

that important. 

I remembered when I 

became me 

Everyone 

looked at me 

and held me. 

They put me on 

and everyone else stared, 

and sometimes laughed. 

Everyday 

someone would wear me, 

they talked and laughed. 

Then one day 

I stand alone. 


The sad 

expression 

all the time. 

I stare at everyone else, 

but they never notice me. 

I feel like they think 

I am not worth 

talking to. 

I remembered when I 

first came. 

Everyone 

was around me 

was around me. 

We would laugh together, 

We would talk like friends. 

Everyday 

we talked and laughed. 

A while after 

they stopped coming to me.

they put me on the wall. 

They had forgotten about me. 

No more looking. 

No more touching. 

No more laughing. 

Everyday I hope 

to be worn. 

But I don’t believe it will happen. 

They just pass me. 

Not even a glance. 

I guess I will 

hang here 

for a long time. 

They had forgotten about me 

as if I were invisible. 

Invisible. 

Invisible. 

Everyday I hope 

to be talked to. 

But not even a “Hi!” 

They just pass me. 

Not even a glance. 

I guess I will 

be no one 

for a long time. 



Madeleine W 

Grade 8

What Is My Imagination? 

Alexandra P 

Grade 8 

My imagination is a cloud. 

Always changing and creating new pictures, 

Never stopping or taking a break. 

Moving on, and never caring about time. 

My imagination is a mirror. 

Reflecting, around corners, 

And showing me what I am afraid of. 

Always showing me a new side. 

My imagination is a wild lion, 

But I don’t know if I want to tame it! 


My Journey 

I have walked and walked 

a very long way, 

through the hot desert 

with not one single drop of water 

and with nothing to eat. 

The only thing keeping me alive 

is my imagination. 


Tyler W 

Grade 3

Mavis A 

Grade 11 


To Minds Passed 

when she began 

to forget our names 

and to speak invented tongues 

we forgot everyday life 

and lived a perpetual Easter 

waiting for resurrection 

bouquets of flowers arriving 

told of others’ dismay 

as well as their reluctance 

to deal with it face-to-face 

and since the seeds of hopelessness 

had already begun to bloom 

we traveled as a family 

down the long road to dementia 

swept away by the scenery 


Kristen H 

OAC

I lie aloft 

Not far 

But away. 

Not close 

Contioso 

Entering a bottomless pit of lost memories 

and empty promises forgotten. 

But wait, I see a door opening, 

A bright light in a lonely corridor, 

Another chance to begin again. 

In fond memory of Ivy. 

Wesley P 

Grade 4 


Je ferme les yeux 

les idées ont passé 

solitude absolue 

avec des personnes 

tout autour 

mon envie glisse 

hors de mon corps 

doucement 

lentement 

je suis ce que 

je veux 

je vole 

Le vol 

en haut 

en haut 

en haut 

en haut 

en haut 

« Claire, est-ce que tu écoutes ?» 

Boum ! 


Claire F 

7 e année—Intensif

poem for the third floor stairs 

Beatrice F 

OAC. 

they painted the stairwell today 

it had to be done, after all 

but the thick white matte swallowed my five-year-old fingerprints 

my toddler artwork in red pencil 

my adolescent lousy-day-dragged-bookbag scratches 

it’s not the cornice of a skyscraper for a superhero anymore 

it’s not the sketchpad of an artist anymore 

it’s not the always-listening receptacle for teenage angst anymore 

no more evidence of the parades of little people with cake-sticky hands 

climbing up the stairs in shiny party shoes 

patting the wall as they go 

no more remains of family portraits in inexpertly drawn lines 

the wall won’t answer the question, “How was your day today?” 

with a typical thirteen-year-old 

“Fine.” 

now it’s a wall again 

but I like the chalky whiteness 

and I like that it’s so clean 


Age Will Never Understand 

Natalie P 

Grade 11 

We act on foolish instinct 

No belief in caution 

Only passion, rebellion, impulse 

Our fears—how unreal 

Our hopes—how childish 

Our experiences—how few 

Our opinions—unworthy, uncounted 

Our thoughts—ignored 

Age doesn’t understand what youth commands 

Memory erased, long forgotten joys and struggles of youth 

Attempt to teach us 

Denied—they cannot reach us 

We will not be preached to 

Give us space 

We need time and place to make mistakes 

Ears unhearing 

Eyes unseeing 

Age will never understand 

They assume too much 

Don’t realize enough 

System shut down 

Age set stubbornly in its way 

Shocking consequence 

Who’s to blame 

Left alone to wonder 

Age will never understand 


Slippers 

I love their grandmother’s slippers 

and jubilant chatter 

in soaring blurry tongue 

the brilliant cloth 

the fierce dish 

the congruent shimmer of hair 

and proud, rhythmic walk 

to music far away 

I am pale and legendless 

except for my great, great grandma 

she smoked and drove like a man 

Anna K 

Grade 11 



Yang W 

Grade 8

Warren W 

OAC 

Some Things The Village Elder Said to Me 

The fact that she tells you it’s a ducky frock 

Does not change it from being a pelican. 

Look at the bill. 

If you want to turn a lot of women’s heads, 

Be a barber. 

Always dot the “i” in your signature. 

Use the same handwriting. 

Man is the only animal you skin many times. 

Are you talking to Liz Taylor? 

Make a fool of yourself, 

If you have the sense to know who has done it. 

Take a second look. 

Sometimes it is the best cure for love at first sight. 

Make your hardest work be before breakfast. 

Get up. 

It takes two to make a marriage 

A single girl and an anxious mother. 

Until you get married, you will never know 

Real happiness; and then it’s too late. 

Treat others the way you want them to treat you. 

Be kind to the nuts. 


INVADER 

SOMETHING STRANGE HAS COME 

TO INVADE MY HOUSE AND HOME, 

A TINY, WRINKLED, HAIRLESS, CRYING 

CREATURE. 

September Y 

Grade 10 

HE TAKES ALL MY PARENTS’ TIME, 

TIME THAT USED TO BE MINE, 

THAT TINY, WRINKLED, HAIRLESS, CRYING 

CREATURE. 

MOMMY’S ALWAYS TELLING ME TO HUSH! 

AND DADDY’S ALWAYS IN A RUSH, 

JUST BECAUSE OF THAT 

TINY, WRINKLED, HAIRLESS, CRYING CREATURE. 

I REALLY DON’T LIKE THIS CHANGE 

IT IS ALL VERY STRANGE 

MOMMY PLEASE TAKE BACK THIS 

TINY, WRINKLED, HAIRLESS, CRYING CREATURE. 


Dissension 

This is where the conflict comes 

We are judges, born and raised 

Not content to leave any custom uncriticized 

If a man is determined to dress like a bird 

You should compliment him on his tail feathers 

And walk on past 

Sarah B 

Grade 12 


The Tree 

Richard S 

Grade 8 

Here I am, 

a lonely 

tree. 

Swaying in the wind, 

letting my branches 

be ripped 

from side to side 

because of the 

deadly 

wind. 

My little leaves 

not yet mature. 

Still are being 

slashed 

and torn. 

I cry out into the cold, dark, soaked air. 

“STOP, STOP IT NOW!” 

Please. 

There is no answer to my plea 

from the unmerciful wind. 

Then I see 

a 

golden 

ray 

part the pitch dark sky. 


Eshika M 

Grade 8 


Sharmeen S 

Grade 8 

Flows With Steadiness, Rushes Wildly 

Flows with steadiness 

over gravel and rocks; 

it silently murmurs. 

Tiny fish scuttle 

through the translucent body 

while it sparkles in the sunlight, 

quivering. 

Shades of brown here, 

hints of green there, 

so beautiful, so unreal. 

Rushes wildly, 

swirling and twirling in quick currents. 

It roars, 

smashes against huge boulders 

The power creates thick white froth 

and dark soil blends swiftly. 

The force… 

great 

so fast, so strong, 

it can leave you feeling breathless, 

mesmerized 

and weak. 


Melancholy 

Iskra P 

Grade 10 

When the grieved breeze kisses my face 

whispering a foreign song, 

When the dying sunrays make desperate attempts 

to illuminate the sky, 

When the green of the trees changes to black 

like a chameleon among ashes, 

When the shadows grow longer 

as if trying to reach the end of the Earth, 

When the clouds migrate east 

like ancient nomads seeking their home, 

I remember a distant land drowning in memories 

And release a stifled sigh, which the breeze 

incorporates into his fading song. 


Far Away From Home 

Going away to live in the country 

far away from home 

Not knowing if someone misses you 


Jelissa M 

Grade 6 

Cry through the night waiting for someone to 

hug you 


Waiting for your mom’s hug, oh yes, she’s 

not here. 


ORDERS 

It was told to 

So it did 

Did exactly 

As was bid 

Did not question 

Never asked 

For it was trained 

To do its task 

Oh, yes 

It took orders 

Never realizing 

What it’d done 

Jennifer G 

Grade 8 


My Giant 

Suealan L 

OAC 

The giant is screaming 

And stamping up and down the halls 

She’s screaming at the banks 

She’s screaming at the hydro 

She’s in fear that we will not have enough money for tomorrow 

She smashes down the phone 

And the cord drags behind her 

So full of hate, despair and sorrow 

The car has broken down 

The bank doesn’t care 

The insurance won’t cover it 

Life just isn’t fair 

She flicks on the shower 

To wash her dirt away 

But she’s too bothered to go and bathe today 

Water’s cold anyway 

The lights are flickering 

The draft is seeping through the window 

The little jukebox of heat can only warm 

One room at a time 

And it’s the end of December and we don’t have a dime 


The bank lost her money 

They didn’t do as she said 

Now the statement shows empty 

And the VCR’s time is dead. 

Now it’s the end of the season because we don’t have any cash 

We’ll soon be evicted 

On the 10th to be exact. 

She can’t handle the dishes 

And all this dirty solemn wreck 

The laundry is piling up 

And my weight is going down 

And the giant’s spewing acid 

Acid from her mouth 

Acid from her eyes 

And now life is deprived, 

Of her? 

No. 

Of money… 

And it’s the end of the holiday 



Liuba M 

Grade 8

The Lies 

The lies we tell ourselves 

are the cause of 

tears and sorrow 

and BEYOND l a y e r s 

of MAKEUP 

and a wall 

of deception 

lies a bare face of pureelegance 

What L-E-N-G-T-H-S will we travel 

to be considered 

Beautiful 

In the eyes of a stranger 

wondering the same things 

Elise N 

Grade 9 


Headache 

It’s driving me crazy 

I’m losing my mind 

And although I search 

No solution I find 

Too much to do 

Too little time 

To write down a poem 

And still have it rhyme 

So now I sit writing 

Yet can’t spell a word 

Which suggests there’s a problem 

My mind is all blurred 

Too many are talking 

For none can relate 

They make so much noise 

I can’t concentrate 

When noise doesn’t cease 

I let out a yell 

How long it will take 

No one can tell 


Emma N 

Grade 8

The chaos around me 

Is beginning to grow 

Nobody can conceive 

The distraction I know 

And as my head spins 

I draw to a close 

my turmoil subsides 

But my mind froze 

Just writing this poem. 


LA VIE EN ROSE 

You see the world through 

rose-coloured glasses, 

everything tinted a 

different shade of pink 

You filter the images you see, 

keeping those you like, 

and those that offend you, 

well, 

you file them away to look at another time, 

when you are in a better mood 

I sometimes wish that I could smash your 


give you a true view of the world. 

show you what life is really like 

But then 

Tanya G 

OAC. 

I remember those times when I, too, saw the world 

through 


and I think 

I’ll let you keep them a little longer, 

as long as I can borrow them 

every once in a while. 


Blue Roses 

A blue rose amongst a field of red ones 

feeling overwhelmed. Alone. 

You make me smile. 

Your petals unique 

for the world to admire. 

Blue is the ocean 

blue is the sky 

blue is pure. 

Heavenly. 

Your scent alluring 

your disposition straight. 

You are ready for the rain. You won’t fall. 

The grayness depressing. 

After the rainbow though 

I open my eyes and find 

A field of blue roses in red dirt. 

And I smile. 

Sagal A 

Grade 12 


Spring 

Spring, spring, where are you? 

I’m around the corner. 

Waiting for 

March to come. 


Jasdeep D 

Grade 2

Khatsaeva A 

Grade 8 


THE RAVEN 

Jordann M 

Grade 4 

On a dark and stormy night 

I looked out my window, a raven takes flight 

up into the sky above 

like a slick, black velvet glove 

To hear the slick black raven cry 

is like a nightmare flying by 

Before the storm is over the raven rests its head 

for now it’s time for bed 


Wolf Prowl 

Emily B 

Grade 7 

As I rush onward, 

the trees blur, 

exposing a brilliant tapestry of woven colours. 

The world around me fades into a single image. 

I see nothing— 

But hear everything. 

The shattering echo of the delicate leaves, 

crunching beneath my hooves, 

my existence materializing in the eyes of my predators. 

I quicken my pace. 

The wind brushes droplets of water upon my back, 

sending eerie shivers down my spine. 

The safety of the thick forest looms ahead, 

the horizon blanketed by the impending evergreens. 

I dash forward, as the darkness engulfs me. 

A shaded haven for prey— 

And predator. 

Fear follows me like a taunting shadow, 

pushing me farther into the dense forest. 

The branches form a maze of gnarled passageways, 

as I desperately search for food and water. 

I flinch. 

In the distance, light pushes through a parting in the trees, 

illuminating the creeping figure of a lone wolf. 

Our eyes lock, 

a binding energy flowing between us. 

As twilight falls, 

a piercing howl calls the young hunter back to his pack. 

Until tomorrow, I am safe from the Wolf Prowl. 



Debbie G 

Grade 11

Spring 

She is peeping ‘round the corner 

She has been hiding for days 

She has brought a breath of fresh air 

Oh! How hard it is to find her! 

Shirley Y 

Grade 8 

She is hidden under a snow-white blanket 

Her little head; I saw it! 

She is laughing at me from behind the glass window 

Her little feet tread softly by 

I hear her sweet young voice 

Chirping a little song 

She is clothed in fresh green and pink 

With daisies in her hair 

She sprinkles fairy dust where she steps 

In tints of red, pink, lavender and blue 

She is encircled by wings of colour 

She is wrapped in her own special hue 


I REMEMBER WHEN 

Naima I 

Grade 8 

I remember when my parents loved each other, 

They would talk, giggle and amuse one another, 

Go to work, come back and greet each other, 

Tuck me in and read to me. 

I remember when we would go to the park 

And play on the swings till it got dark, 

Then go home and sit on the veranda, 

We would watch the stars for hours. 

I remember when I used to get some sleep, 

And I didn’t have to listen to their arguments, 

Then he took his belongings, 

And I never saw him again. 


Alone 

Katie A 

Grade 7 

I am at home alone 

basking in the quiet solitude 

No brothers whining, “Play with me!” 

No parents to be polite and helpful to 

I don’t have to set the table 

like a quiet, helpful daughter 

I don’t have to play games I don’t want to 

like an older sister 

I don’t have to be young and old 

all at the same time 

I can play cantatas all afternoon if I want to 

I can dance to CDs 

and no one will know 

I can read any book I want 

and no one will laugh 

because it’s silly 

I can live 

without 10 000 people to live up to 

I am completely at peace 

And then they come home 


Wind Poem 

Shhhhhh, clouds 

blow, whoosh, sing. 

Ghostly, happy, sad, mad. 

Air. 

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. 


Tori E 

Grade 1

WIND 

Sarah N 

Grade 6 

I watched it swirl the leaves around, 

I heard it whistle through the trees, 

the wind. 

I watched it tug and pull at scarves, 

I heard it scream through a narrow passage, 

the wind. 

I watched it push the swings back and forth, 

I heard it cry into the night, 

the wind. 

I watched it jingle the wind chimes, 

I heard it whisper my name, 

the wind. 

I watched it hug and squeeze the houses, 

I heard it pray silently, 

the wind. 

I watched it lift the newspaper off the floor, 

I heard it sing a hollow song, 

the wind. 

I watched it shake the Canadian flag, 

I heard it howl through my window, 

the wind. 

I watched it huff and puff the clouds away, 

I heard it breathe a gentle breath, 

the wind. 


strung 

there are strings, 

strings everywhere 

that make things 

move, climb, and fall. 

tree limbs flail, 

dripping green 

in slow, stupid dance. 

our limbs flail 

also wooden and mastered, 

moving us in mass(es) 

back and forth. 

the performance is timeless 

but i can feel 

the strings 

that move my hand 

to write this now. 


Chris C 

Grade 12

Mountains 

Mountains scraping skies 

Hear my heart pumping red blood. 

My echoes bounce through 

Deep grooves, tall steep rocks rolling, 

Shadows cast across clouds. 

Samson A 

Grade 5 


REACHING THE TOP 

Isra R 

Grade 8 

The rigid mountain soars high in the sky. 

It’s pointed peak cannot speak to the achieving star. 

It knows the stars have reached as far as they can. 

And the mountain has climbed as high as it can. 

Now it’s my turn to make that wretched climb. 

I know my life will only move forward, by going higher. 

Slowly, I take my first step up the endless mountain. 

All the challenges have been defeated, 

I have gone through all the struggling obstacles. 

Finally, I’ve reached the ever so high mountain. 

I can feel the biting wind, blowing across me 

The stars are as high as me. 

Now, I know I have climbed as high as I can. 

Now I know I have 

Achieved. 


Stephanie G 

Grade 6 


L’ORAGE 


Muhiyyuddin B 

5e année—Français cadre 

L’orage rugit comme un lion. 

Il est fort et violent. 

Il gronde. Il hurle. 

C’est l’orage. 

Dans les nuages, le tonnerre 

lance des éclairs. 



La pluie pianote sur les toits. 

Elle est furieuse et froide. 



BOUM ! 

BOUM ! 

BOUM ! 

Le tonnerre et l’éclair. 

OUICHE ! 

OUICHE ! 

OUICHE ! 

Le vent et la pluie. 

Le vent. L’éclair. 

Le tonnerre et la pluie. 

C’est l’orage 

Qui descend aujourd’hui

Celebration 

Eat fast 

Bright yellow cookies 

Pray at home 

Mosque white and golden 

The time of Ramadan 

Eat bright yellow cookies 

Family fast 

Pray at home 

Pray in white golden mosque 

Talk with friends 

Leyman O 

Grade 2 


My New World 

Squeezed too tight 

Crack! 

Crack! 

Chip! Chip! 

I astonishingly opened my eyes 

To a new world, a new place 

and a new life. 

That awaits me desperately. 

Terrified to move or speak. 

I climb out shivering. 

From my shell, ready for 

a new adventure in this bizarre place. 

I ponder: will I be 

loved or will I die of loneliness? 

I think ahead: 

will I cry myself to sleep? 

Jump off a cliff 

Because I’m not appreciated? 

I just wonder 

walking off into my New World. 


Farrah A 

Grade 5

Loneliness 

Christina B 

Grade 8 

I saw loneliness clearly. 

He was slim, undersized and chilly. 

He turned, and without life, opened his hand. 

I saw his ashen face and parched fingers 

And heard him implore for money, powerless 

And I felt sorrowful. 


Sadness 

Sadness is dark blue. 

It sounds like a lost kitten meowing. 

It smells like rotten eggs. 

It tastes like polluted water. 

It looks like a homeless person. 

It feels like a mean word. 


Tom R 

Grade 2

What is Grey? 

Grey is a rainy day 

A feeling inside 

A scratchy blanket 

on a cold winter night 

The cold 

Arctic water 

biting madly at your toes 

the snow dyed by exhaust 

from cars roaring by 

A coin roughed up by use 

A wolf’s fur hiding in the snow 

Cement on a city road 

dotted by litter. 

Erica C 

Grade 6 


Untitled 

Julia M 

Grade 11 

When you dance over the ground 

as if only you existed, as if you were naked, 

as if I was not there, I am 

violently jealous of what the music 

does to you, 

thrusting beats into your hips, gravity 

into your spine, and rhythm into your 

feet, pulling your entire body into 

the physical thrill of sound, the 

unselfconscious bliss of 

soul, as if I were never there at all. 

I want to be your 

music, weaving 

myself through 

your shoulders 

and around your 

fingers, having 

an effect on you 

exclusive to us. 

I want to drag your stomach into 

my hole in the earth, to a place 

where I selfishly have you, an 

alternative to silence. 


Novel 

I sit perfectly still, 

A smile on my face. 

I embrace the possibility, 

Holding the book in my arms. 

I need not begin reading yet, 

For I know I will fall 

Deep into the story’s clutches. 

It holds promise, is a promise, 

Of enjoyment and deep thought. 

I touch the cover, leaf through pages, 

They are far more than paper. 

The shiny dust jacket is superficial, 

What is inside means much more. 

Another world sits in my hands, 

I do not wish to break the spell. 

But I know I must. 

I open the book, and tumble into 

Beyond. 

Claire S 

Grade 9 



Liuba M 

Grade 8

Travelling By Book 

The coziness of the fire, 

The warmth of your bed, 

Your soft pillow, 

A place to rest your head. 

But sometimes you need excitement, 

A brand new place to look, 

That is when I’m glad 

That I have with me a book. 

With a book you can go exploring 

While staying where you are, 

But in your mind 

You can travel places near and far. 

Puneet S 

Grade 4 


The Homeless Child 

Leslie A 

Grade 7 

All alone, no one to turn to. 

Sitting on the narrow sidewalk. 

Wondering what her future holds. 

Torn blanket covering her small body. 

Dirty, dusty face. 

Holding out her hand helplessly. 

Begging for a coin, for it would change her life. 

Crying with tears that could fill the ocean wide. 

Tears of fear and hope. 

Her hair in knots like slithering snakes. 

Wanting to help, I pull out a small dark coin. 

Gently placing it in her hand, 

She smiles. 

A small but beautiful tear of joy slides down her cold red cheek. 

The small coin meant nothing to me, but it meant the world for her. 


Sounds Of The Plantation 

Charlotte S 

Grade 3 

I hear the cry of a slave getting whipped, 

As the owl hoots through the night. 

The music comes in the door. 

The trees are as still as a glass bottle. 

The music feels like it will never go away, 

As it mixes with the cries that make me tremble. 

Will I be next? 


The sun is sleeping 

Night Time 

Lakes shimmering, crickets chirping 

I can feel the moon’s breath 


Ashley T 

Grade 5

Untitled 

Black cloud, hard wind. Rain. 

Power of light in the air 

Dark sky. Thunderstorm. 

Erno V 

Grade 3 


Andrei B 

Grade 5. 

The Windy Night: Poem For Two Voices 

The wind has blown my thoughts away 

Through shutters opened by the windy night 

Frightening, ferocious fiends! 

The branches of my tree hit my roof 

as hard as a wild boar. 

I wonder if it’s just a dream, 

now lying scattered in the grass. 

dark shadows sneak into my dreams 

My house whispers stories to me of 

witches and wizards. 

or am I sailing on a stormy night. or am I sailing on a stormy night. 


Lingering In The Wind 

The life of the berry flashed before his eyes, 

The good and bad times, 

And the sad and happy times. 

He was slowly losing the grip of the branch. 

Jessica L 

Grade 7 

He remembers feeling the warm sun, 

Brush across his smooth, young skin. 

He remembers the cool summer wind, 

Making him sway to the joyous music of the birds. 

His skin was now old and shriveled, 

No longer a beautiful royal blue. 

He no longer felt lively or loved, 

He felt scared and tired. 

Hanging onto the branch all alone, 

No other berry was near him. 

The summer days were nice, 

Listening to children’s laughter, 

feeling excited, refreshed and ready for the day. 

Suddenly the berry heard a loud “SNAP”, 

The branch had broke, 

He was now dropping to the ground. 

“THUD” his life as a berry was over. 

Nothing of the berry was left, 

Only his memory of summer days, 

Lingering in the wind. 


Cats 

The cat 

is like the night 

Orange like the moon 

their eyes like 

flaming lights 

her whiskers 

silver shooting stars 

their 

claws like 

sharp round shadows. 


Shequilla W 

Grade 2

My Cat Cash 

I got him as a kitten when I was 4. 

He didn’t drink milk so I taught him. 

He ran. I chased. 

He scratched. I cried. 

He ate. I fed. 

He left. I worried. 

He can be annoying, but I love him. 

My cat. 

Anita L 

Grade 4 


The Big Test 

Salma S 

Grade 4 

BOOM, CRASH, BAM. 

Went my head when I wrote my TEST 

Why was my BRAIN sinking 

RINGING 

NOT THINKING 

GOING CRASH 

BAM 

KABOOM? 

What a TEST!! 

Is it the 1st or 2nd question? 

No, it’s the 3rd 

No, 7th 

OR is it all the questions? 

I DON’T KNOW. 

My HEAD’S 

JUST GOING 

CRASH, BAM, KABOOM. 


Thoughts 

Lynn N 

Grade 8 

“I am trying to do a test!” I whisper. 

“Chi, chi, chi!” as the students write. 

“Tick tock, tick tock!” as the clock moves. 

“Achoo!” as the students sneeze. 

“I am trying to do a test!” I say a little louder. 

“Thump, thump, thump!” as the kids run in the halls. 

“Ahhhhh!” as the students scream in the gym. 

“Ahem, ahem!” as the students cough. 

“Click, click, click!” as the teacher types. 

“I AM TRYING TO DO A TEST!” I yell. 

“Shhhhh!” the class yells back. 

Whoops, I was thinking out loud again! 


On IQ Tests 

Meredith L 

Grade 11 

“…answers to the tests and a graph to convert your results into an IQ 

score will reveal if you’re above average…or maybe even a GENIUS!” 

(Eysenck, Hans. Test Your IQ) 

Thank you, Mister Eysenck. I do not know my IQ. 

I see you are to aid me in this matter. 

This score will encapsulate my entire persona into a number, you claim? 

I am most interested… 

interested to see how this number conveys 

my penchant for blue popsicles 

my fifteen second attention span 

my untameable hair 


the way i fall in and out of love ten times a day 

the way i used to fear the dinosaurs at the museum 

the way i cried when i lost my pet 


my love of music 

my hate of segregation 

my secret fear of hanging 

Thank you nevertheless, Mr. Eysenck. Perhaps another day. 


My Alphabet 

Sarah M 

Grade 3 

A is for angry, because that is how I sometimes feel. 

B is for brain, because that is where it is coming from. 

C is for courage, I have it and I need it. 

D is for Doctors, lots and lots of them. 

E is for Epilepsy, and that is what I have. 

F is for feelings that get hurt from the teasing, and F is for friends that help. 

G is for grandmal, a kind of seizure I’ve had. 

H is for Hospital for Sick Children, where I spend a lot of time. 

I sometimes feel alone. 

J is for just wanting it to be over. 

K is for knowing it will hopefully be over soon. 

L is for lobe in the frontal part of my brain. 

M is for many MRIs. 

N is for Neurontin, a medicine I take. 

O is for operation, which I hope to have soon. 

P is for positive thinking, which is hard to have. 

Q is for quest to find a cure. 

R is for rivers of tears that I’ve cried. 

S is for seizures that I have every day. 

T is for tests, tests, and more tests. 

U is for understanding what I’m going through. 

V is for vomiting night after night. 

W is for why? 

X is for X-Rays of which I have had many. 

Y is for years of suffering. 

Z is the end: the end of my problem, which I hope will come soon. 



Vladimir M 

Grade 8

Untitled 

The morning dew glows 

on the grass 

I watch a single leaf 

drift slowly down 

and 

land soundlessly at my 

feet. 

This isolated maple tree 

is my tree at 

heart. 

Worship the tree that 

watched you grow, 

young to old. 

Each leaf tells a page of 

your history. 

A fallen leaf means a 

new life is on the way. 

As I gather my fallen 

memories, 

I feel refreshed 

with 

my memories 

in my 

hand, 

I can 

hold, keep, 

and 

remember. 

Yuying L 

Grade 5 



Vani S 

Grade 8.

DARKNESS IS FEAR 

Matthew A 

Grade 5 

Night is flooding my room. 

Look! on the walls…shadows! 

Darkness is in my room, 

So it is easier to imagine my fears. 

I can’t sleep. 

Something is going to pounce. 

I feel I’m going to be messily devoured, 

By a monster with huge fangs. 

Darkness… 


The Jagged Stone 

like a sharp 

stone 

cutting the water 

with a mighty 

s p l a s h. 

Lasting only a 

moment 

to 

then 

sink 

unwillingly to the depth, 

the dark 

of the lake. 

The boys 

who steal the attention 

speaking ~~~~~~~~~~~words. 

shallow 

They are the Rock. 

Johanna G 

Grade 9 

their edges like 

Razors 

slicing at the silent souls: 

slashing those who show strength & security. 


their influence, 

Heavy Weighing 

trying to 

V 

push 

V 

you 

V 

down 

down into the depths of their 

Insecurity 



Mike Y 

Grade 12

ATTENTION !! 

Calina E 


Il y a un dragon dans les bois, 

Qui dévore les jeunes comme toi. 

Avec son haleine inflammable, 

Le vaincre est infaisable. 

Bien sûr ce n’est pas un mensonge, 

Sa langue lèche le sang comme une éponge. 

Sa queue, couverte de piquants pointus, 

N’aurait pas de pitié pour un gosse perdu. 

Dans la forêt, c’est crucial d’être sage 

Si vous voulez une chance contre sa rage. 


Untitled 

Flames bursting everywhere 

Nothing but paralyzing heat 

Eyes burning sparks 

Faces forming in flames 

Evil in the crackling air 

Melting eyes 

Face to face with burning hate 


Liam S 

Grade 5.

Milad A 

Grade 6 


Piano 

The Piano is white and black, 

Like a zebra’s stripes on its back. 

My fingers running down the keys, 

Like butterflies in the summer breeze. 

My music sits upon the stand, 

While I conduct my one man band. 

The music sounding oh so grand, 

It takes me to a far off land. 

There’s nothing that I’d rather do, 

Than play until the day is through! 


Emily M 

Grade 4

The Music 

A note, a sound, a rhythm, 

A meaning deeper than one can fathom 

A technique, requirement, form 

Beneath it, life pulsates, warm. 

You listen, but do you hear, 

You look, but do you see? 

You think, but do you understand 

How much this music means to me? 

Some think it too unclear 

“We know not what it says” 

The music speaks to me, teaches me, 

Through all the lonely days. 

A note, a sound, a rhythm, 

The meaning now I fathom, 

The very essence of our lives, 

Speaking volumes more than any words. 

Pooja N 

Grade 9 


A Lesson Of Who-I-Am 

Lauren D 

Grade 9. 

I squeeze myself into my jeans. 

I start to wonder if they’ll fit over my thighs. 

“Sam!” I cry, “I need help!” 

They don’t look like jeans, 

They aren’t jeans! 

They are magic materials manipulating my legs. 

They have turned my legs stonewashed, 

With seams, 

And little loops at the top of my hips. 

I grab the loops and pull. 

The fly doesn’t want to zip up. 

“Is this what I’ve come to?” 

I wonder: 

Why didn’t I buy the 25? 

The pants are on! 

I look at Sam…waiting for approval, 

But she laughs. 

“They aren’t you, but you have to wear them. 

You’ll fit in once we get there!” 

The pants look up at me, 

They frown and say, 

“Are you trying to kill us? 

You can’t walk in us, 

And you’re gonna try and dance in us?” 

I hobble down my carpeted stairs. 

I do knee lifts to break them in. 

It doesn’t seem to work. 

The jeans grab my knees. 

They don’t let them go. 


We make it to the Dance. 

The reason I must dress like this. 

The Dance. 

There is a sea of people inside. 

People wearing trainers. 

People wearing nice big pants. 

People who can move. 

The soles of my boots are like nails. 

My feet hurt. 

My mind hurts. 

My jeans laugh at me. 

My legs yawn. 

They will not hold me anymore 

They are like two twigs; 

Above them, 

My torso. 

The twigs shake. 

I need to sit down. 

A girls taps me on the shoulder. 

She is nothing but skin and fake features. 

She is not real. 

“I like your pants!” she says. 

I need to find who I am. 

Where I am. 

Why I am. 

And I will 

Through Lessons like this 


I Am Walking 

Azza B 

Grade 7 

I am walking down the street 

free like a bird in the sky 

I look up and see warm colours of 

the rainbow shining in my dark brown eyes 

I am not aware that who I am is a 

threat to the rest of the world 

Then in a heartbeat something rushes 

to my chest as I fall on the solid cold ground 

The lashes of the colourless rod 

thrash my head as it starts to pain 

With rich red blood dripping from my face 

I start to ponder why this is happening 

As my body dies I look down at my 

Skin and realize… 

I’m Black 


Thunder Storm 

Lightning crash 

Water swish swishing. 

Crash swift 

Coming from 

Drums of war. 

Alex B 

Grade 2 


The One I Call Cruiser 

Snow drifts blowing, 

Causing blindness. 

Cold stabbing, 

Wind piercing 

And the want and wish of a warm bed. 

Barn door opening, 

Warmth rushing in and burning. 

Familiar sound, 

Everything else forgotten, 

For the familiar feeling. 

Ck-lonk, ck-lonk, 

I hear him coming. 

He emerges from his prison 

And knows what he must do. 

He knows why I am here. 

Familiar, 

Yet hated cold rushes back. 

His colossal body feels no cold, 

Or at least he is too proud to show it. 

He fills me with warmth. 

Sarah C 

Grade 9. 

We ride, and we ride as one. 

No more distinguish between girl and horse. 

One pitter-patter and we are lost. 

Soaring together, 

To the heavens. 

All done for this moment, 

This moment when 

Cruiser and I are one. 

When I am one 

With such an immense power. 


Khatsaeva A 

Grade 8 


Chinese New Year 

When the lion dance is over 

the fireworks begin 

We see colours in the sky 

Big ones, small ones and short ones 

Dancing in the sky 


Jennifer R 

Grade 3

BRACES 

I’m getting braces, 

The thought makes me gag. 

Those wires are heavy, 

They’ll make my smile sag. 


The idea makes me hurl. 

Those clankety clanks, 

Can limit a girl. 


How awful ‘twill be. 

With a mouth full of metal 

I’ll never be free. 


I know I sound sad. 

But if I don’t get them, 

I’ll wish that I had. 

Emily H 

Grade 8 


GUINEA PIGS 

tiny 

little eyes that 

glow in the dark like 

flashlights 

cold 

naked 

tiny 

feet 

chocolate brown 

snow white 

night black 

expensive 

coat 

like a prince would wear 

puffy fur 

like he came out of a 

dryer 


Riananne G 

Grade 5

Gestation 

We are the children 

We live the life of nature reversed 

In the fall we hatch 

And like ravenous caterpillars 

We feed upon the leaves of books 

And dream of flowers and flying 

Our schools, like giant cocoons 

Nourish and protect 

Until we finally awake 

And our dreams of beauty wilt 

Our wings unfold in spring 

And our muted colours show 

We are misled 

While dreaming of butterflies 

We are bred as moths 

We nibble at the fabric of society 

Vainly seeking the nectar 

Of our childhood dreams 

Only to be caught in work 

And tied by threads of need 

A looming spider drains our life 

Until we may finally spread our wings 

Free from the web of lies 

Katy H 

OAC 


The Deconstructed Puppet 

Remove the dry humour, 

and the high-pitched voice, 

and the googly eyes. 

Take away the wide grin, 

and the colourful fluff, 

and the playful bobbing. 

Pull out the tight stitching, 

and the loose threads, 

and the inner lining. 

And what you have is a naked hand, 

with a sweaty palm, 

and fingers writhing nervously 

behind a black stage. 


Morgan V 

Grade 11

Outside 

One sunny day I will be outside. 

I will play by the playground. 

When it’s night, 

I will look for a wishing star, 

Or a star named Twinkle. 

If I find it, 

I will bring it home. 

Dimitri W 

Grade 2 


The Choices 

So many schools, so many decisions 

So many jobs, like mathematicians. 

Where to get help, where to get training 

Consider the options (my head is paining). 

Riverdale, Danforth, where will I go? 

Which one is better, I do not know. 

Took the tour and looked around 

Asked some questions, here’s what I’ve found. 

Douglas C 

Grade 8l 

Friends are important, education is too 

You have to determine what’s right for you 

I’m still debating, can’t make up my mind 

But I have to move on, leave my childhood behind. 

Everyone’s helpful but it’s up to me 

I’ll soon decide what my future will be. 

Choices now, I’ll pick and then 

In just four years, I’ll be at it again. 


Yearbook 

Luke G 

Grade 8 

The teachers are listed on page 3 

Hey look! A picture of me! 

Typed in blue and white 

400 copies overnight 

Soft cover, budgets low. 

Pictures of people in the snow 

Signatures are near the end 

It’s no good to pretend 

You’ll miss all those kids that you knew 

They’re all history, like past morning dew 

Next year, you’ll be all alone 

Reading the yearbook, in your home. 


As I Look Out My Window 

As I look out my window 

I feel, 

The night’s soft, smooth air. 

Flickering stars, bright like fireflies, 

Wake the sky’s moon. 

Phone lines straight as a tree’s trunk, 

Dark and chilling. 


Hayley A 

Grade 3

Wind 

Can’t you hear the voices of the wind? 

The soft call from the spirits within. 

Alex H 

Grade 4 

Can’t you feel the bitter ice of sadness? 

The unfriendly winter breeze on your skin. 

Can’t you hear the sad winter cries? 

The helpless dying spirit of the wind. 


The Love Of Cats 

Matthew C 

Grade 7 

He walks past me—head up high in the air ignoring all of my calls. 

Too good to even look and acknowledge me. I wave a string and all dignity 

is lost 

As he twists and turns on the dirty floor, 

Trying to catch it. 

After a while he tires, he then falls into a deep sleep curled in a 

ball with his paws on his head. 

Out of no where he suddenly wakes up and dashes 

to the door. For no reason 

at all. 

A few seconds later I follow him. He is sitting calmly 

staring out the window, 

fascinated by the wind blowing a tree. 

I’m confused by why he acts like that, but I know 

the answer. 

He is a cat and that’s what cats do. 


L'oiseau de couleur 

Veronica B 

4 ième annee- Immersion 

L'oiseau de couleur plonge du ciel 

Et laisse un peu de couleur 

Sur tout ce qu'il survole. 

De l'orange pour les fruits, 

Du jaune pour le soleil, 

Du vert pour les planetes, 

Du rouge pour le feu, 

Du bleu pour le ciel, 

Du violet pour la terre. 

Il est rapide… 

Ne laissant qu'un peu de magie 

Sur toutes les choses qu'il touche. 


The Soaring Fire 

Freewheeling through the sky 

Wings cutting the humming space 

Dancing twirling swirling 

Toward the wisps 

Of clouds 

Extending their reach 

To the holy heaven 

To their destiny 

Like the rising sun with 

Their golden eyes and mountains 

With their impaling spikes 

With fiery breath 

So vivid 

So fierce 

Ignite the starry sky 

Their thrashing tails 

Emit such furor 

Their piercing claws 

Cleave the flowing air 

Their majestic slender 

Structures 

So vigorous in the 

Golden rays 

Fly high above all 

And when remembering those 

So wild so bold 

Ferocious and kingly 

Remember the dragons 


Belinda P 

Grade 6

Inside 

Mrs. Orr’s Grade 5 Class 

Inside, the ticking of the clock is deafening. 

Inside the odour of wet paint 

makes me queasy. 

Inside, an unappetizing bitterness 

while I chew on my pencil 

Inside, the stiffness of my eraser 

as I clutch it in my fingers 

Inside, 

I focus on my teacher’s words 


I Am Like A Poem 

Helen D 

Grade 4 

I am like a poem 

bursting with feelings. 

I can make you laugh, like when someone tickles you. 

I like to talk a lot, but when I’m shy I speak quietly. 

Sometimes I speak really fast, like a tongue twister. 

I love to give away my ideas. 

Sometimes I keep them private. 

I am like a poem. 


Morphing Shadow 

Richard F 

OAC 

Perched high in the canopy, 

Clutching with small claws, 

She changes colour, 

Whimsically blending with the foliage, 

Becoming one with nature. 

Eyes quickly spot breakfast, 

Zone in like crosshairs, 

Locked on target. 

Her tongue explodes from her mouth, 

A horseman’s whip, 

Winding around the insect and 

Snapping back to her 

The flick of a match. 

Changing tints to shades, aqua to jade, a 

Jewel being wiped free of dust. 

Balancing on brittle branches, 

Descent commences to the 

Basement of nature’s condo. 

Hue-shifting gift brings little comfort, she 

Peers into moist mist below. 

Fears grips her heart, she plucks berries 

Nervously. A monstrous shadow 

Creeps over her, blocking out the sun. 

Adrenaline pumps, she is airborne, 

Ricocheting off trees like a pinball 

Until finally reaching sanctity in the canopy. 

Skin reverting to a light brown, she 

Precariously looks down into the abyss of the forest, 

Relieved she has survived its vast perils. Scales 

Gleam in light of a new day. 

She is a chameleon, a morphing shadow. 


Holy Water 

Lennox C 

Grade 6. 

I wonder what holy water would taste like? 

Would it be cool and fresher than the mountains’ spring water and the taste 

of God’s soul and clearer, smoother, fresher and tastier than all the treats you 

could imagine? 

I can taste the magical smell of spring, greater than the Fountain of Youth. 

The amazing, great smell of God’s perfume and my drooling mouth 

demanding more and more as if I were addicted to it and wanting to keep it. 

The wonderful key to Heaven. Oh, how brilliant holy water would be. 


My Bed 

I am uncomfortable in my bed, 

so I go deep down instead. 

I go deeper and deeper 

until I hear a chirp, a peep, 

I see birds, trees, I see cliffs and waterfalls, 

I see flowers and tall towers. 

I reach up to the cliff 

but then I fall down into sparkling water. 

I am in bed, so I dream instead. 

Caitlyn H 

Grade 2 


On A Narrow Strip 

On a narrow strip of lawn 

between the empty planter 

and the side door 

I lie with the wobbling watering can 

and water myself, 

instead of the seeds in the ground 

or the grass or the trees or the weeds, 

to see what new grows with the coolness 

of this sprinkling. 

I roll around in shallow grassy mud 

until I feel juicy and full 

and germinated 

and like grape jelly. 

I lie with brown and shining 

and dream 

of the new tiny roots which tickle my skin 

from the inside. 


Annanda D 

Grade 11

Irina L 

Grade 8 


Urban Skies 

Bora A 

Grade 8 

When I look up, 

The skies are blue, 

Not a hint of pollution, 

The clouds are white, 

And fluffy too, 

But what I don’t see, 

Is the underlying city, 

That seems to me, 

As it seems to you. 

Sure, the city is quite visible on its own, 

But what we don’t see is the creativity, 

The creativity that drives our cities, 

That makes them flourish. 

It’s what makes mighty glass buildings rise to touch the skies, 

And beautiful parks form, 

It’s in every one of the populace, 

But it’s never the norm. 

For each one of us has a special gift, 

Something to contribute, 

To this wonderful thing, 

That is our city. 

We as a people are its soul, 

As much of it as it is of us. 

And so a city, 

Is a reflection of the people, 

Who reside within. 


Poetry Hides In… 

Nicholas H 

Grade 3 

The wind, as it brushes my hair. 

The world, as wonders are made. 

Fire, as it warms others. 

Birds, when they sing like a choir. 

Water, when it’s as calm as a sleeping fox. 


Revelations 

You say 

creation is arbitrary 

the progeny 

of a creature we call 

BIG BANG 

I say 

creation is a song 

whispered 

by rustling leaves 

and floating winds 

I say 

creation is a work of art 

painted 

with sweeping strokes 

of cobalt 

and magenta 

across the canvas sky 

stippled 

with patches 

of ochre 

and viridian 

on paper trees 

I say 

creation is poetry 

written 

by wave fingers 

on the sand 


Fatima U 

OAC

Beautiful - Toronto District School Board

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