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POETRY - 2020-2021

                                                                                                                                                     Click on title to see poem
June 17, 2021

Dias De Escola
May 21, 2021

The Impact of Social Media on Body Image 
May 21, 2021

Blue Skies -Free Verse Poem
May 21, 2021

The Loneliest Girl
April 28, 2021

Persephone, a sonnet
April 28, 2021

The Girl With Misty Eyes
April 28, 2021

The Remaining Hope
April 28, 2021

Join The Line
February 26, 2021

Sheer Cold
January 15, 2021

Where I'm From (Bee Kim)
December 16, 2020

Where I'm From (V. De Caria)
December 16, 2020

December 16, 2020

Blue Jeans
November 18, 2020

November 18, 2020

Smarter Than That
October 15, 2020


By: Anna C-J


They have done inspections on our connections

And they claimed that their objection is for our protection

They beat us in the street

Condemn what we do in the sheets

They put us in cells 

And tell us we are going to hell

They terrify and vilify

Because of how we identify

They kick and shove

Because of who we love

They try to make us disappear

Yet we are still here


Our love has been denied

Our pride has been tried

Told we should hide

In many places, our existence is yet to be dignified


And yet every year

We are still here


Our existence 

Is resistance

Our pride

Is wide

Our story

Is glory

Our heart

Is a work of art


We are here.

And proud to be queer.



May 21, 2021

By: Natasha Mazerolle

My feet drag

And my eyes are heavy

In my chair I tend to sag

But consciousness I must levy


A thought plagues my mind

That work must be done

But there is no unfinished work to find

And my workload is none


Alas there will be more work soon

There will be more until June

The days seem to go by fast

And yet time stills feels so vast

An eternity occurs between morning and noon


Taking a break seems a hard thing to do

When you expect to be busy every second

It’s a routine you get used to

Sometimes motivation has to be beckoned


It’s not fun but at least there are those who care

Answering questions, providing help where they can

It feels better that they are there


May 21, 2021

By: Natalie, Grade 12

They say to believe  in yourself,

But society makes it so hard for us not to,

The constant posts, videos, and advertisements we see,

Invade our lives every day,

They try to make us change ourselves constantly,

They think it’s for the better

But it’s doing much more harm than us to good,

Teenagers are supposed to enjoy their lives,

They are supposed to feel good about themselves

How can they do that when society tells us continuously to change our body

We are not supposed to obsess over how we look,

these numbers, the stupid scale they are supposed to mean nothing to us, 

Yet it’s what we as a  society spend so much time on

Body positive and self-love creators who are trying to lift others up,

Get constantly torn down for how they look,

While trying to help others,

They say we are supposed to feel confident in our own skin 

, but how can we do that when others are constantly trying to bring us down,

They say to believe in yourself but society 

makes it so hard for us not too

What we need to do instead is lift others up and share uplifting messages,

Share messages  about how exercise can make us stronger, and  it can make us feel good about ourselves when we exercise instead of doing it to lose weight,

Share constant positive affirmations and uplifting images instead, 

When we start to do this instead of forcing others to change themselves,

it can make us feel so much better about ourselves,

and help us to love and appreciate our bodies even more 


Free Verse Poem

May 21, 2021

By: Gabby Mosurinjohn-Lockey, Grade 12

Tiptoeing across the sweet summer grass
Damp with cold morning dew
Mosquitoes biting your legs, 
Arms, face
Wishing that sleep would leave your eyes
And hazy mind
Breathing in;
Desperate for fresh air 

Warm wind rustles leaves of the tall trees that surround
Fresh raindrops roll off circling down
Hitting your head
Carefully now, mud ahead
Dark and sour
Light clouds uncover the blue sky
Waving goodbye to the moon,
Pushing away the pink and purple morning
And the memories of yesterday
Welcoming a new start


Narrative poem inspired by The Loneliest Girl in the Universe by Lauren James


April 28, 2021

By: Gabby Mosurinjohn-Lockey, Grade 12

All alone,

Blank space surrounds

She was forced into the unknown

To find new grounds


Suns and planets pass by

On a spaceship set for the stars

Around her corpses lay

Awaiting their time in the sky


Waving goodbye to a planet she never stepped foot on

Regretting what life currently is


A glimmer of hope,

A message from someone new 

Instead of drifting through timeless space 

Perhaps now she will be happy

Or will this just become another chase?


Ghosts of her past crawl forward

Staggering through the blank empty halls

Creaking and screeching 

Dragging their long fingernails in hopes of tasting blood


A motherly touch perched on her cheek 

Released from a web of lies, while hope is ripped away

My dear, it has never been your fault

As you did not choose this life


Continuing on her adventure 

On a spaceship set for the stars

Around her corpses lay

Awaiting their time in the sky



April 28, 2021

By: Gabby Mosurinjohn-Lockey, Grade 12

Picking flowers out in the summer air

In an instant, he fell in love with her

How could one be filled with such beauty and care?

He steals her away leaving just a blur


Searching the earth for the lost daughter

Nowhere to be found, as she is underground 

Taken by the god of death who caught her

His love for her as if he is spellbound


Just six seeds changed her fate forevermore

His heart fills with sorrow when she brings spring 

After four cold months, she can go outdoors

And there he sadly sits, the lonely king

Awaiting the season that brings his love back

For Persephone to walk into the black



April 28, 2021

By: MF

My feet by the water

Waves breathing great sighs

Was when I first saw her

The girl with misty eyes 


Asked if she was alright

And she nodded her head

Eyes bloodshot and swollen 

From the tears that she shed


Now I don’t know if it was a trick of the light

The sun playing games as it set into night

But the misty-eyed girl had a translucent feel

Shimmering faintly, like she wasn’t quite real


My mother had told me to be wary of spirits

Said they’ll draw you right in 

With their sweet, haunting lyrics

Don’t know what overcame me, but I wasn’t afraid

All I wanted was to come to her aid

I crept back to my house 

and I brought her some tea 

and I set in down right on that rock by the sea

Where the misty-eyed girl sat, expression profound 

She appeared to be floating right above the ground


I sat down beside her

As she picked up her cup

and blew at the steam

and watched it float up


The misty-eyed girl told me, “Thank you,” then shared,

“It’s been a long time since someone has cared.”

I opened my mouth but had nothing to say

Only hoping she wanted for me to stay


With the setting sun shining gold 

on the water

I stared at the girl

And finally caught her

Looking right at me, her misty edges curled

She leaned forward to kiss me, and my whole world unfurled. 



April 28, 2021

By: Natasha Mazerolle


"Dust flies into the air

The wind blows against the grass

A torn flag waves,

reminiscent of a time long past


A girl stands next to a crater

Of what was once her home

A compass in one hand

And in the other a tome


One relic to direct her

The other to teach her

Both will guide

To help her reach her



The ground is black

The ground is dead

The fight was lost

The renegades fled


There is nothing left

The battle salted the earth

But apathy will only make her as dead as the land

So she shall leave and find rebirth


A tear falls from her eye but she is not sad

She smiles

For that, some might call her mad

“Goodbye,” she whispers


She turns away

Her chin is high

Her eyes look forward to a new day

She doesn’t look back"




February 26, 2021


By: Anna Carsley-Jones, Grade 12


When you choose to stay comfortable,

Instead of helping the vulnerable,


And choose to be still and polite,

Instead of being brave and joining the fight,


The fight goes on longer.

Because some aren’t ready to be stronger.


Your silence is violence.

Avoiding the alliance.


Your complacency causes harm.

It's time to disrupt, dismantle and disarm.


Make the signs.

Join the lines.


March the streets.

As long as we need to, we will repeat.


Say their names.

Be ready to exclaim:


“Never again.”


The fighting spirit must remain.





January 15, 2021

By Madeleine Bhamjee

Sheer cold

It crawls over green, over warmth, over life, relentlessly 

It runs rampant and sees no end

How it glistens, how it gleams but its bitterness is overwhelming 

Its beauty is immeasurable and yet it is so destructive, so brutal and unloving  

Someday it will take its leave, for now it lives on comfortably, ruling over us 

Sheer cold



December 16, 2020

By Bee Kim, Grade 11

I am from the jukebox.

From the vinyl and the transition to CDs.

I am from the water, next to the woods,

(Untamed, sparkling, and uncanny.)

I am from the outdoor foraging, wild mushrooms.

Blackberry bushes with their thorns sharp.

I’m from the play fighting and the dance battles.

From Cavallo and el tic tac.

I’m from the fine line between belligerence and affection.

I am From an empty bag of Ms. Vickey’s chips.

From “Joyoung Yehae!” and “Exactly.”

I’m from the night walks with the full moon, stargazing.

I’m from the land of hope and night views, Yeosu, Korea.

From the apple foraging and a quirky guide to a secret tree.

The cooking, crying to movies and songs.

I am from the music, the woods, and the burst of laughter.

The photos, located nowhere but in our hearts.

Because time goes too fast to even savour the little moments.




December 16, 2020

By V. De Caria, Grade 11

I am from candles,
From sugar and leather.
I am from dust in the sunlight,
(Iridescent, Warm, slowly drifting through the air.)
I am from the white spruce,
The monterey pine cone,
Whose sap smells festive and crisp like blades of grass covered in frost.
I’m from homemade red wine and big green eyes,
From Andrea and Francesco.
I’m from the story tellers and stubbornness,
From practice makes permanent and non si tocca.
I’m from meatless Christmas eves and baptisms.
I’m from the halfway of Westboro and The Glebe like those before me.
Roasted chestnuts and fresh pastries.
From the bullet that grazed the side of my Great Grandfathers head while he fought in a war he
didn’t believe in,
The Great Grandmother from whom I share my name with.
In an unrevealed location lies a cold metal box,
Only my father is able to unlock,
For what’s inside is irreplaceable,
As priceless as a famous painting hung at the Louvre that people stop to admire.




December 16, 2020

By Linda Berry, Grade 12

We live in a world that is consumed by ourselves.

We can’t escape our need to be the best, to escalate, to be invincible.

When I say need, I mean need, because wanting it isn’t optional.

It isn’t enough to be good at something; we have to be good at everything.

So we have two people that we are trying to be. 


Someone that can be displayed to the world, who is smart, attractive, unstoppable.

Someone with a picture perfect smile, with teeth that are so straight they look unreal.

This person is unreal, and people say,  “I want to be them.”


Then we have someone who is hidden from the world. 

Someone who has bad days, and cries at night.

Someone with insecurities about their body, their abilities and their future. 

Someone who wakes up some days, feeling like they can’t take life any longer, and thinks, “how will I ever do this?”

Someone who is human. 


But so many of us have hidden this person for so long, behind filters on our phone, vacations in the sun, and an unwavering smile that only lets its guard down when we are alone with ourselves.

The only place where hiding from the world is finally over.

Because hiding was never the truth.

But some of us have spent so long hiding, we’ve forgotten the truth. 


This is considered normal.

It’s normal to hide, to ignore, to repress.

We pretend that we are better than others, and vice versa.

A story in our heads that plays out through our display to the world.


I hope someday this changes.

I hope that someday it’s ok to just do something that you love, not because you’re amazing at it, but because you love it.

I hope that it’s ok to care about humanity not just when it’s a fad, but all the time.

And most importantly, I hope it’s ok to post a picture on instagram not because it’s “cute”, but because it’s YOU.

I’ve been real in a fake world for so long; 

one day I hope to be real in a real world.



November 18, 2020


By Linda Berry, Grade 12

We buy them without thinking.

Fresh, soft, sky blue.

Rips and tears, the latest fashion.

We feel better, instantly when we get them.

Like a shot of adrenaline pulsing through our veins.


Because they’re so much more than just a pair of jeans.

They’re not at all like all the other pairs of pants we have- no, these ones are special.

Maybe they’ll make our crush notice us, or maybe someone else will.

Despite the fact that everyone else wears them, they’re unique.


Nevermind who made them.

That’s a different story.

One that we aren’t exposed to- a story that is far away from where we live.

In a country with a name we can’t pronounce, where the people speak a language we don’t know, where they experience a way of life we never have.

Somehow, this makes the other country seem like an alternate universe.


Maybe that’s why we don’t care. 

Because we can’t imagine that what we’re doing right here, right now, has any impact that far away.

Because we just can’t believe it.

We can’t believe how young they are when they begin work, or how they are treated, or how they live.

We think that because we’re kind, good people, we’re not the ones causing them any pain.

And we just want the jeans.


The jeans that we paid $20 dollars for, but that they were only paid pennies for.

The jeans that we bought in a cute store, that they made in enormous, overheated, overcrowded factories.

The jeans made by children who never got an education, an opportunity at life.


I guess it's easy to just pretend.

Pretend that we don’t know, or pretend that it’s not true.

Convince ourselves otherwise, then move on with our busy lives.

But the truth is, everyday we vote with our wallets.

And whether you vote for injustice or justice is up to you.

But your vote counts.

Every vote counts.

 Even if it's just for a pair of blue jeans.



November 18, 2020

By Anonymous



There was a time where they'd argue

You'd run into my room

And I'd shut the door and hold you tight

Like a dream fading from my mind

I'm sorry I can't always protect you

But when I can I'll be there

Looking across wherever we are

As if to distract them from the fact that I'm squeezing your hand so tight

Almost like I'm ready to run off

to protect you

And your happiness

From their fights

Even though they think they mean well


October 15, 2020

By a Grade 10 Student



It has been said

Your best was all you could do

And that’s enough


Moods and feelings are like seasons

They change so quickly

You don’t even notice until after the change

I felt good

I felt confident

I felt hopeful

But then that changed


It has been said

“You’re smarter than that”

My best was all I could do

And that wasn’t enough


I’ve always asked questions

I’ll always try to look for help

But that can’t always work

That hasn’t been enough


My disappointment will fade soon

I know

It will blow away like the leaves of Autumn

My tears will stop falling

I know

Dry up like a Spring in heat as hot as Summer


But words are like a plastic

They can stay composed for a thousand years

And both can do harm


I’ll try my best

Even if you think I’m smarter than that

Smarter Than That
Blue Jeans
Where i'm from ( Caria)
Sheer Cold
Join the Line
Girl with misty eyes
Remaining Hope
Social Media
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